Page 8 of Bear
“Yeah, no thanks.” I wrinkle my nose, trying to play off the fact that I’m weirded out by his naked swims. It pains me to imagine how his buoyant man junk is floating about in there. “I’m not wearing a swimsuit.”
“You don’t have to wear one. Or any clothes, for that matter.” He gives me what I assume he thinks is a sly wink. Dude’s definitely got a lot to learn about flirting in particular and women in general.
I press my lips together and shake my head as I keep walking. “I’ll pass.”
“Figures. Can’t see a good thing when it’s right in front of you. Instead you’re fu—”
Stopping in my tracks, I pivot. That was one step too far. “I’m what, Pierre? May as well spit it out. I’m tired of the bullshit around here.”
He snorts to himself, running his hand through his wet hair, pushing it out of his green eyes, which take a leisurely tour up my legs, making me wholly uncomfortable. “Yeah, I bet you’re tired.”
My head rears back. “I’m sorry, what?”
“I’ve heard you’ve been fuckingbusyentertaining the guys on that end of the hall—or busy fucking? Maybe I’ve gotten that part confused. But if you want a really good time, you’ll bring that pretty cunt down our way.” His brows lift, anticipating a response, but all I can do is laugh.
“Pierre, you’re a huge dick, you know that?”
“Yeah. I do.” He grins, then reaches down into the water, grabbing himself.
Ick.
I walk closer, squat down, then peek over the edge into the water where he’s fisting his hard little peen. “Hey, baby. You know what?”
Eager, the idiot smiles widely at me as he strokes himself.
“I said youarea huge dick, not that you have one.” I roll my eyes skyward. “Like I’d be interested in that microscopic pencil you’re packing, Pierre.” I stand up and walk away, ignoring the ugliness he shouts at my back.Jesus.Warren wasn’t fucking kidding. Fucking entitled assholes.
Before I can get to it, the door to the pool house opens. “What the fuck’s going on out here?” Mason ducks his head out, eyes keenly and quickly assessing the situation. Thank fuck it’s one I was able to handle on my own.
I don’t bother turning around as Pierre sputters, “Sorry for shouting. I was just asking Lennon if she wanted to swim.”
“And I’m pretty fucking sure I said no.”
Mason shakes his head grimly, brows tugged tightly together, eyes focused on me. “You good?”
I roll my eyes, glancing over my shoulder toward Pierre, who has resumed swimming… only this time he’s doing a backstroke, and his miniscule erect cock is like a tiny man bobbing along, struggling to keep his head above the surface. I stifle a laugh. “Yeah. I can handle his kind.” My gaze swings back to his dark eyes, which are pinned on me, curious. “I was looking for you, actually.”
Mason bites down on his lip, scraping his teeth over it as he considers me. “You sure you want anything to do with me after last night?” His breathing is surprisingly steady, and he watches me with his head tilted to the side, a bit of a devilish attitude emanating from him. “I was pretty brutal.”
The sweep of his sinful gaze over my body makes shivers roll down my spine—and not necessarily in a bad way. I get the feeling that how we handle this exchange might influence the future of whatever relationship we have. Enemies? Friends? Lovers? There are only so many ways to take what he did. He put his hand on my throat and squeezed hard enough to discolor my skin, hard enough that I struggled to breathe.
He crosses his arms over his chest, arching a brow at me, and I can’t help but think he’s doing it again. Trying to get me to retreat, albeit in a calmer fashion in the light of day. I’m getting a very distinctCome on girl, you can’t be this dumbradiating from him. It pisses me off enough that my jaw locks up. My eyes flutter shut for a moment, disappointment hitting me hard. I hadn’t held out much hope, but I thought there was a slim chance we could get past this. There’s no way to do it, though, if he’s going to reinforce those walls around his heart.
“Don’t do this, Mason. Please.” Drawing in a breath, I glance over my shoulder. We now have an audience. Kai, Brendan, and Pierre watch with interest from twenty feet away. “I think the least you could do is talk to me and try not to act like a complete dick. Can we go inside?” I point toward the pool house doorway. “I doubt you want any of those jackasses to hear some of what I have to say.”
His chiseled jaw works to the side and to my surprise, he mutters, “Yeah, okay.” He steps back inside, gesturing that I should follow. He closes the door behind me, but instead of coming further into the room with me, he leans his back against it. Out of the glare of the sun, I notice the dark circles under his eyes. He hasn’t slept. Not a wink, if I had to guess. Doesn’t make him any less striking, though. Women would kill for the definition in his cheekbones. Perfect fucking lips. Casually messy hair that looks good no matter how many times he runs his hands through it. It only gets better from there, but I refuse to let my gaze wander over his body—a body I enjoyed very much last night. My heart stutters. But I shouldn’t be thinking about any of that right now. I need to focus on the things he said to me and find out if he was yanking my chain or if there was any truth to it at all.
I also absolutely refuse to hide the bruises he put on me. Peeling off my hoodie, I set it down over the arm of a spacious couch that sits in front of a television screen. Then, without offering him so much as a glance in his direction, I go a step further, tying my long hair in a knot at the back of my head so it doesn’t hide my contused neck.
Maybe it’s a little vindictive, but I want him to get a good look at what he did to me with those beautifully artistic hands of his last night. He deserves to be held accountable.
I feel his eyes roaming over me as I walk around the place, taking it all in. It’s furnished almost like a small apartment or a guesthouse, which I find kinda bizarre, but there are also two different bathrooms visible from here, and a shelf near the door loaded with neat stacks of fluffy towels. At least that part screams pool house.
“Kintsukuroi,” he gasps out as I turn around to face him. Something like remorse weighs heavily on his shoulders, dragging them downward. His eyes scan and inventory every visible inch of my skin. “I—” His hands grasp the juncture between his neck and shoulders, like he needs something to hang onto as he pushes off the door. Step by step, he crosses the room until he’s standing close enough that if he reaches out, he could touch me.
My breathing falters, lungs constricting, before I get ahold of myself. I have to maintain control here. I raise one brow. “You what?” I glance down at the purplish splotches on my upper arms, then lift one hand to carefully skim my fingertips over the bruising on my neck. I dampen my lips. “To be fair, my arms were already a mess when you grabbed me last night. But the marks on the sides of my neck? Those are definitely your doing.”
He bows his head, slowly shaking it while staring at the hardwood floor between us.
