Page 8 of Mason
I saw it coming, but it’s still a shock to hit the water. I allow myself to sink down until my feet hit the bottom. The laughter from the brotherhood is distorted, coming to me faintly as I push off the tiles and swim upward. I break through the surface, gasping for air and treading water. Arik and Quincy pop up seconds later, sputtering and gagging like they swallowed half the pool when they went under. Duke, Bear, and Mason stand right at the edge, the younger brothers directly behind them. Their amusement is obvious.
Dipping backward, I smooth my mane of wet hair from my face before taking inventory of what I’ll be running my ten laps in. My flip-flops float about six feet from me, not that I’d wear them anyway. And fuck me, I changed out of the black tank for a white T-shirt. It’s one of those thin, slub-material ones. Practically transparent when wet. Beneath that, I hadn’t even put on a proper bra, just a lacy bralette.
The other two guys head for the side of the pool while I continue to tread water in the middle. It’s critical that I don’t show any hint of embarrassment or fear.
“What’s the matter, Stella? Got an issue?”
I steel my nerves and swim to the edge where Duke shoots me a wicked smile before bending down to hold out a hand to help me up.Fuck you, fucker.
I reach up, grasping Duke’s hand, and yank as hard as I can, sending him over my head where he splashes into the water behind me. I try not to laugh at the coughing as he comes up with a mouthful of pool water. Quickly, I plant my hands on the edge of the pool and push myself up, nimbly climbing out on my own.
I’m so pleased with myself I almost forget that everyone has a fairly decent view of my tits through my sopping-wet shirt.
Mason’s brows shoot up when his eyes land on my chest.
“Oh, fuck.” Bear runs a hand over his jaw.
I turn my back on them, staring down at Duke as he swims to the edge.
“Nice tits. Your nipples are hard. What is it that’s got you all worked up, Stella?” He gives me a sly grin.
I can either race back into the house, covering my all-but-exposed breasts with my arms, or— I put one hand on my hip, cocking it to the side as I look down at him in amusement. “Look all you want, but you can’t touch, big brother.” Without further ado, I peel the offending shirt off, whipping it at him. It smacks into the water right under his chin, but I swear he doesn’t notice as his eyes are stuck to my chest like they’re glued there.
I give him my back. He doesn’t deserve to look at my body. On full display to the rest of the brothers, I shrug. “When you’re done drooling like animals, maybe close those mouths you’ve left hanging open. I’ll be running my laps.” I take off like a shot, determined to finish quickly so I can be alone in my room. I don’t hear the other two behind me, and I don’t give a shit.
A minute later, as I round the corner of the house, completing the first lap, I create quite a stir. There are a fair number of catcalls and whistles, and a whole lot of clapping as I race by, well aware that my tits are bouncing like crazy in this ineffective excuse for a bra. I’m beyond caring. I am, however, very pleased with my stepbrother’s reaction.
Duke’s face is absolutely rigid, a fun shade of cherry red high on his cheeks, yet he can’t pry his gaze from me. Good. Asshole.
“Dear fucking god,” Bear groans out. “This might be more torture for us than for her. She’s fucking fast, too.” He gives me an appreciative look and a simple nod of his head.
Mason subtly readjusts himself before shouting, “Go, baby sis!” Then he snorts with laughter as Duke cocks his arm back and punches his bicep.
I smirk as I pass them, blowing a kiss as I continue on to my second lap.
FIVE
MASON
My eyes blink open,and I lie in my bed for several seconds before it dawns on me that I must have heard something that pulled me out of a deep sleep. I hesitate, doing my best to steady my breathing, listening to the thudding of my heart and the quiet of the night.
Wait.Am I awake? I close my eyes again—or I think I do—and attempt to get my brain to focus on something else. But I never have peaceful dreams, whether I’m asleep or awake. Never. Rolling over, I reach out for my phone, which I left charging on my bedside table, and pry my eyes open again to see it’s 4:15 a.m. I haven’t had a good night’s sleep since about the age of eight, but lately, man, it’s really bad.
Feeling groggy, I roll to my back again, peering up at my phone as I hold it in the air over my face. I should put it down because it never fucking helps to stare at the bright screen in the dark when I should be trying to sleep, even if it does pass the time. Frustrated and out of it—no doubt from the Tylenol PM I took a few hours ago—I toss the phone down on the mattress and groan, covering my eyes with my forearm. Maybe I should head up to the attic and get some work done since it’s clear all I’ll ever do is go from one nightmare to the next.
God, I’m fuckin’ dramatic when I’m awake in the middle of the night.
But then I hear the noise again, throwing me into high alert. It’s a door opening. Or maybe closing. And not far away either. My brow furrows, my mind racing. Slowly, I pull my arm away from my face and open my tired eyes. I swear the sounds are coming from the direction of the balcony. My heart lodges somewhere in my throat, and I turn my head on my pillow, blinking through the dark of the room to the equally pitch-black night. There’s a violent lurching in my chest, my lungs have trouble deciding in what manner to function. A cold sweat breaks out all over my body, clammy and unsettling. I shove the light sheet covering me to the side and slip from the bed.
My face crumples at what I see through the glass panes of the door. The ache I feel is so fucking intense, I wish I could tear out my goddamn heart.No. Why are you out there? No.Sick rises up in my throat, preventing me from screaming at her, and I swallow it back down, unwilling to let her do this to me again.
An unexpected surge of anger hacks its way into my chest, replacing the sadness, and I bolt across the room to throw open the balcony door. With my entire body heaving, I stare at the wildness of her hair as a balmy breeze blows gently over us, her long, blonde locks floating out behind her. As I watch her standing there, she grips the railing, and her toes curl a bit, as if the stone of the terrace is cold, which it might be because it’s the middle of the fucking night.
What the fuck am I thinking?She’s not here.She can’t be here. My heart alternately hammers and clenches behind my rib cage. I stalk over to her—this fake, this imposter. This can’t be her. She’s a riveting,awfuldream. My unending nightmare. I reach out, grip her shoulders, and tear her away from the railing.
She turns in my arms, unbalanced, her eyes unfocused. My jaw tightens as I grasp her by the upper arms and shove her back against the railing, putting my face right in hers. “You’re not real,” I growl, my voice scratchy from sleep. Swallowing roughly at the faraway look in her eyes, I repeat myself, punctuating every word with an angry huff of breath. “You’re. Not. Real.” Rage coursing its way through me, I shake her violently. “You’re not fuckin’ real! You’re not! You can’t be!” My jaw clenches as my mind turns over and over on itself until I don’t know which end is up. I don’t know what’s real and what’s not.
Her eyes finally focus on me as my hands slip up to curl around her throat. Blood pounds through my head in a frantic rhythm. I know I’m losing it. I’m on the verge. But I can’t see past the raw anger boiling inside me. Can’t hear a fucking thing but her breath rasping in and out.
