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Hands instantly squeeze my ass and spread my cheeks only to roam their way up to my hips in a slow, tantalizing gesture meant to inflict sweet torture before wrapping around my waist and pulling me flat against his front. His teeth graze the shell of my ear, where he murmurs, "This better not be something you were planning to wear on vacation."
I don't even get a chance to respond before he's turning me around and covering my lips with his. He plunges his tongue into my mouth, making sure to plunder every inch, taking what he knows belongs to him without abandon before reaching down to grab my ass. He squeezes hard enough to cause a whimper to escape my throat. The sting only stokes the fire that started building in my core the moment I laid eyes on him. I can feel his hard length pressed against my belly, making my insides clench in anticipation. Reaching down, I try to stroke him, but I barely graze the tip before he breaks our kiss and stills my hand. He's panting as he rests his forehead against mine.
"Baby, I want you so bad you have no idea. I was not expecting you to come out wearing lingerie. You may think this is a swimsuit, but this is a fucking thong meant for my eyes only."
He's moving his fingers up and down under the band that rests between my cheeks as he tries to stave off his arousal and stabilize his breathing.
"August, what's wrong. What's so important that it can't wait until after?"
I grind myself against his length, and he lets out an agonizing groan of discontent before breaking away. Which leaves me feeling a tad insecure. I mean, I just came out wearing a hot-ass swimsuit with "fuck me" written all over it, and he's basically turning me down.
"I wanted to talk to you about something, and it's kind of important."
Oh geez, I thought I was escaping this conversation earlier when we stopped talking about the heavy, but when it comes to Mason, August can't help himself.
It turns out that Mason was the tipster that alerted the Feds to Eduard's whereabouts. We only learned that this past week when court documents from Eduard's arrest were unsealed. Unfortunately, Eduard wasn't arrested until six months after Mason moved to Silicon Valley to expand his dad's IT company. This means for all that time he was still watching out for me.
To this day, Mason and I haven't talked. It hurts, and doesn't, all at once if that's even possible. I reached out to Vivian when we got the news about Mason's involvement because she still occasionally talks to Mace. She said he threatened to hang up the phone when she asked him about it. Vivian told me that for the first week after he left, he constantly contacted her asking for updates about me. But then, one day, it was like a flip was switched, and he stopped. I haven't tried to reach out to him, and in the beginning, that pained me deeply, but now it's turned into resentment.
"What's wrong, baby? Talk to me." August is always so in-tune with me, so how he is dumbfounded by my sulky mood now is baffling.
"Oh, I don't know, my boyfriend just got me all hot and bothered only to turn me down. You know I don't wear stuff like this, and I wanted you to like it, but–"
He crosses the hot tub and pulls me to him. "Baby, I more than like it. I fucking love it—"
"Apparently not enough." It's my turn to cut him off. "If it was enough, we wouldn't be talking right now, not to mention you cut me off to talk about another man."
Releasing me, he jerks back like I've just slapped him.
"What are you talking about, or better yet who are you talking about?"
"Oh, you mean to tell me you didn't want to talk about Mason and pick my brain about how I feel regarding his involvement in the arrest? August, I do not have feelings for Mason. Yes, he was a big part of my life, and I have regrets but not the type of regrets you think."
Before I can finish my tantrum, he throws his hands up in defeat and says, "Okay, I guess we're talking about this."
I’m not sure why he’s acting like this isn’t what he wanted to discuss, so I get to it. This is the last thing I want to talk about, but it needs to be said. "August, Mason held me back. For as much as he helped me, he hurt me, and it kills me that you think for one second that I have regrets about choosing you. I don't talk about him with you because I don't want to bring up an ex—if you can even call him that. He is a sore subject for me. The ‘what if's’ have festered like a sickness threatening to choke out any love I may have once held for him. But I know that I'm looking to place blame. He's an easy target because he left. It's easy to say because of him, I lost a week with my dad, and because of him, people died that maybe wouldn't have if you and I had been given a chance to figure things out organically. The problem is that I only bury myself under my own mountain of regret for all the blame I place on him. I need you to know finding out that Mason was still involved in everything long after he cut off communication with me doesn’t change anything."
"Gigi, I know that you believe Mason didn't love you the right way, and I'm not trying to say that he did or infer that I know anything about what you guys had outside of what you've told me. But I know Mason cared about you deeply. I worked with him to get you back and watched him selflessly put aside his desires to keep you. He told you back then that this was the last thing he would help you with, and I think he was simply seeing it through. Mason couldn't stand that Eduard got away any more than the rest of us could."
I know August is probably right, and the chances of Mason indeed still carrying a torch for me are slim, but it doesn't mean I don't hurt inside. Losing someone who had a starring role in your developmental years is hard. Nine years of friendship just up and walked away. I understood his need to not see me daily, to keep his distance, but it's been a year.
Standing up, I start making my way over to the bottle of wine I brought out, wishing like hell I would have had the foresight to pour my glass before ever entering the hot tub.
"August, when I told you I wanted to wake up and look forward, not back, I meant it, but I still feel guilty as hell about how I handled everything with Mason. If I had done things differently, I could have spared him—"
“Stop.” He cuts me off with one word,
"Don't do that to yourself. Mason chose to do everything he did. You can't keep beating yourself up about the choices he made. They were his mistakes to make just as much as they were yours. You were upfront with him from the beginning, and he stayed. He knew the risks."
Once I've poured my glass, I glance over at August, who has his eyes keenly glued to my every move. That's when I decide to twist the knife. He's the one that wanted to have this god-awful, pointless conversation in the first place. I don't need to pop up out of the water to reach the glasses, but I take a step up anyway so that my ass is out of the water just enough to tease him. After my glass is poured, I sweetly ask, "Would you like a glass?"
When I turn back to face him, he bites his lip and shakes his head no.
"I know what you're playing at Gigi but Mason was not what I wanted to talk about."
I purse my lips as I consider his words, making sure to give him an incredulous glare as I make my way back to my seat opposite him.
When I get settled, I hold his eyes across the hot tub for a few long moments, both of us unmoving. I'm trying hard to get a read on his emotions, but I keep coming up blank. I have no idea what he wants to talk about. Then I remember he mentioned us staying at his parents' house for a few days while we were in Cayman to have alone time. The problem is, I think he knows I'm not comfortable staying there.
