Parents aren’t perfect, it’s impossible, and I know Mascen’s feelings toward his father have to be justified in some ways, but his dad clearly cares. It’s too bad it hasn’t been in the way his son needs.
“Just good?”
I spear my fork into the lasagna but wait to lift the bite to my mouth. “I mean, you know how things went down. It wasn’t exactly easy, but we made do.”
I don’t want to go into detail about my past with him—with anyone. I’d rather forget and move on.
He narrows his eyes and I think he senses there’s more to the story. I hate being secretive. Especially when him and his wife are opening his home to me for the break, but there are some things I just won’t talk about.
“You’re a freshman this year?” I exhale in relief that he’s moving on to another topic.
“I am.”
I’m an exceptional conversationalist.
“What are you studying?”
Mascen lets out a massive sigh beside me, slamming his palms on the table. Glasses clang and I freeze as everyone’s eyes go to him. “What the hell, Dad? You don’t need to ask her so many fucking questions.”
Silence fills the room. I want to fill it in some way, but I don’t know what to do or say.
“I was just getting to know Rory again, I’m sorry that bothers you.” Maddox’s voice is calm, but there’s something in his eyes, like he’s hurt but also pissed.
“That’s not getting to know her, Dad. That’s an interrogation.”
Maddox’s brows furrow and he turns his eyes to me. “I’m sorry if it seemed like I was interrogating you. That wasn’t what I meant to do at all. But a lot happens in ten years and—”
I hold up a hand to silence him. “It’s okay, I get it. I’m not very good at talking about myself and things weren’t the best when we left here.”
“You’re attending Aldridge so it couldn’t be so bad, right?” His sister Lylah asks innocently. “You guys still had money and did all right?”
I shake my head. “I’m actually there on a scholarship.”
Lylah’s eyes widen and her cheeks flood with color. “Oh, sorry.”
“It’s okay. I wanted to go there and I worked hard for a full-ride. I’m not ashamed of it.”
And I’m not. Despite the setbacks I faced I worked my ass off to make it happen.
The rest of dinner is a tad awkward but it could be worse. Mascen remains tense at my side only giving people one-word answers when he’s addressed directly. After dinner he immediately disappears to his attic room while I help his mom clean up and load the dishwasher.
Finally, I can head upstairs to shower and go to bed.
I glide my fingers along the shiny mahogany bannister. Despite the less than stellar way dinner went, I don’t find myself wanting to run out the door and return to campus.
In the guestroom I grab my toiletries bag and pajamas to change into. I didn’t feel tired before but suddenly I’m exhausted from the stressful day. I know these people aren’t strangers to me, once upon a time they were a big part of my life, but things have changed so much that I felt like I had to be on my best behavior.
Across the hall I close and lock the bathroom door. Spreading the things I’ll need on the counter I turn on the water and strip off my clothes.
The hot water cascades over me, loosening my tight shoulder muscles. Grabbing my shampoo, I lather the soap onto my scalp, humming to fill the quiet. I could stay there all night, but after cleaning my hair and scrubbing my body I force myself to get out and dry off. Tugging on my shorts and a t-shirt, I wrap my hair in a towel, before brushing my teeth and applying my nighttime moisturizer. If I don’t I’ll wake up with skin as dry as the desert.
Spitting in the sink, I rinse out the white foam making sure not to leave a trace behind. I don’t want to make myself a nuisance in any way. Letting my hair down from the towel, I gently run the brush through the strands so I don’t pull it. I’m taking longer than normal in my nightly routine, stalling for God knows why. Securing my damp hair with an elastic in a low bun I pack up my stuff and open the door. Immediately I’m shoved back inside. In my surprise I nearly fall to the floor on my ass.
Mascen somehow manages to keep me from falling while simultaneously closing the door silently and locking it behind him.
“M-Mascen,” I stutter, looking up at him with wide surprised eyes. “What are you doing?” My back thumps into the wall beside me, his right hand clasping the side of my jaw, fingers splaying down my neck. Satisfaction plays on his lips when he finds the unsteady pulse of my heart.
His gray eyes darken to a color like thunderclouds rolling in on a summer sky and his grip on my face tightens when his hand flexes. “I don’t know.” Something ripples across his face, like he’s surprised by his own honesty, but I don’t have time to analyze it before his lips crash to mine.
I’m taken by surprise, but my body immediately surrenders to the call of his. I arch into him, my fingers delving into his hair. It’s ridiculous how easily my body gives over to him. We might banter like we want to kill each other, and sometimes I do imagine my hands around his neck, but there’s no denying the chemistry between us.
He bunches the fabric of my thin cotton tee in his fingers. It pulls taught against my chest and I know if he looks down he’ll clearly see the outline of my nipples and areola. I’m sure he can already feel the hard nubs pushing against him, begging for attention. It’s scary how quickly my body reacts to him.
He tugs on my hands and I fight against him. I feel his grin against my lips as we kiss. “I love it when you fight me.”
Finally, he overpowers me and pins my hands above my head, using his hips to anchor me against the wall. His erection rubs against my pussy, barely covered by my shorts. The sensitive nub pulses begging for more friction.
His mouth is rough against mine. Demanding. Brash. There’s nothing gentle or sweet about it. He’s staking claim to me.
Holy shit.
I roll my hips down on him, the friction making me breathe harder. I’m so wound up it won’t take me long to orgasm.
“Let me touch you.” I hate myself for begging, but I need to touch him. I want to delve my fingers in his hair, hold him to me so he can’t leave.
“No,” he growls, biting my throat.
I squeak in surprise. There will be evidence left behind in the morning, I know it. He must know it too, because he chuckles and swipes his tongue along the spot like he’s soothing it.
He returns to my lips, nibbling on them like they’re the most delectable fruit he’s ever tasted. His tongue searches for mine and I give in easily. He’s a masterful kisser and I try not to think about how much practice he’s had. It’s not like I’ve been a saint.
“You drive me crazy.” He continues to hold my hands in one of his, lowering the other to grip my neck so he can tip my head up. He bites a spot before kissing it, repeating that down my throat. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
“Mascen,” I pant his name, a shudder lurching through my body. My eyes roll to the back of my head, the pleasure taking over. “Oh, God. I’m coming.”
He releases my hands and grips my hips as I ride it out. The orgasm goes and goes, my body shaking as I come down from the high. If I orgasmed like that with a makeout session I can’t imagine what would happen if we had sex. I might die from ecstasy.
Blinking my eyes open I find Mascen watching me with parted lips, eyes dilated. He licks his lips, dropping his gaze down. I wonder if he can feel the wet spot on my shorts. I’m drenched. He doesn’t say anything and I lower my feet to the ground. He keeps holding my hips, which is probably a good thing because I’m not sure I could stand upright on my own.
After a moment, he releases me and steps back, bowing his head so his eyes are on the bathroom tiles. “Get out.”
“W-What?”
He points to the door, still looking at the floor. “Door. You. Outside of it.”
“Mascen, I don
’t get—”
“Out.”
I don’t think Mascen would ever physically hurt me, but at his icy tone my stomach plummets with fear.
I slip out of it and run straight across to the guestroom. I close the door and lean my back against it.
Mascen has to be the most confusing motherfucker to ever walk the planet. He’s hot one minute, cold the next, and I never know what to expect. It’s exhausting but I’m not sure I can quit this. Whatever this is.
Across the hall the shower starts up.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Mascen
The water cascades over me, dripping from my hair to the floor of the shower. Rubbing my face, I push my hair back, tilting my head up to the ceiling. My cock is hard and throbbing, but I refuse to wrap my hand around it, choosing to punish myself instead. It would’ve been so easy to move aside the fabric of Rory’s shorts pull down my pants and fuck her against the wall. I wanted to. So bad. Especially when she orgasmed just from rubbing herself against me. But I couldn’t do it. It feels wrong because of Cole. Few people are loyal to me, and when they are I value them above everything else. Rory might’ve broken things off with him, but that doesn’t mean his feelings for her went away. I know I’d be breaking some kind of guy code by pursuing her.
But I can’t seem to stop myself from wanting her.
Gritting my teeth, I can’t take it any longer. Wrapping my fist around my cock I stroke it, closing my eyes and pretending it’s Rory I’m sinking into and not my fist doing all the work.
“Fuck.” My head lolls back. Bracing my left hand against the wall I fist myself harder, almost too hard, but the pain feels good because even though I’m giving in, it’s a reminder that I can’t do this. When it comes to her I need to get a better grip on my self-control.
I hope the shower is loud enough to drown out my moan as I come. My chest rises and falls rapidly as I struggle to catch my breath. Cleaning up I get out of the shower, wrapping a towel around my waist.
I don’t know what made me kiss her like I did. I was waiting outside the bathroom for her to finish and even though I was only waiting a few minutes the longer I stood there the more my brain decided to flood me with images. Ones of Rory standing in the shower. Naked and soaking wet. Her long hair hanging over her breasts.
As soon as she opened the door, I lost it.
Climbing up the stairs to the attic I drop onto the bed heaving a massive sigh. This is uncharted waters for me. I’ve never liked a girl, had this kind of connection, like I do with Rory. As explosive as our chemistry is, and as much as I want to fuck her, I’m worried even if I did it wouldn’t be enough.
When the door to my room opens I brace myself, expecting it to be Rory coming up to yell and berate me. Instead, my dad stands there. His arms are crossed over his chest. “We didn’t get to talk much tonight.”
I pick up the baseball from beside my bed, tossing it from hand to hand.
“No, we didn’t.”
He sighs, taking a step closer. His hands fall to his sides. “I’m sorry you thought I was interrogating Rory.”
I narrow my eyes. “You were but stop apologizing.”
He runs his fingers through his hair in agitation. “I don’t know how to talk to you.”
Sitting up, I swing my legs over the side of the bed. “You never have, Dad.”
His brows furrow in confusion. “What does that mean?”
Standing, I drop the baseball on my bed. “You’ve always cared more about Willow and Lylah. What they’re doing, what they like, showing up for them. But me?” I spread my arms wide. “You’re absentee. I can’t do anything right for you.”
His lips part in surprise. “Mase, I don’t know what you mean. I’ve always been here for you, but you’ve never seemed to need me like your sisters.”
“Really? Because that’s not the way I remember it.”
“How do you remember it?” His voice is soft, almost crestfallen which only serves to piss me off more. I want to see a fire in him, a fight to understand, not this dejectedness.
“I remember learning how to ride a bike but you were more concerned making sure Willow didn’t bust her head skateboarding. When we learned to swim at the sports center you stuck with Lylah and the lifeguard helped me.” I’m on a roll now, unable to stop. “When I started baseball, mom took me to practice. She sat in the stands. The times when you came you looked like you didn’t want to be there and numerous times you got up and left. My last game as a senior you showed up late and left before it was over. Nothing I’ve ever done has been good enough for you. You don’t ask me about school and how it’s going. You still don’t ask about baseball and last year Mom, Willow, and Lylah came to a game when we traveled to Virginia but once again you didn’t. I’m going to be a fucking doctor, but you don’t seem one bit proud of it while Willow walks on water and she’s a college drop out.”
He stands there stunned. My chest heaves. I didn’t even realize I’d gotten so heated and out of breath. I knew I’d bottled shit up, but I never intended to explode like this.
He nods up and down, eyes downcast to the floor. If I didn’t know better I’d think he was going to cry.
My dad’s a goofball, the one always laughing and having a good time. The life of the party. He’s a good guy, I know that, but even good people don’t always know how to do the right thing.
“I … um … goodnight.”
He slips out the door, closing it carefully behind him. The tiny click of it shutting feels like a gunshot straight to my heart. I don’t want to hurt my dad, I really don’t, but it’s true—nothing I’ve done has ever been of interest to him.
And at this point I’m tired of pretending it’s okay with me.
* * *
“Oh my God!” Rory’s hand flies to her heart when she opens her bedroom door and finds me lurking there. “Don’t scare me like that.” She swats at my arm.
Amusement curls my lips. “I want to take you somewhere.”
It’s after lunch and I’m desperate to get out of the house, so I started thinking of things I could take Rory to do. I’m sure she needs to get out as much as I do. Neither one of us has said anything about the kiss. I haven’t spoken with my dad either. By the time I got up he was gone to the studio.
“Take me where?” Her eyes narrow in suspicion. She never trusts me, rightfully so, but…
“You don’t trust me? I’m wounded.”
“You don’t give me very many reasons to.”
“But you’re not saying you don’t. You like chocolate right? Ice cream?” She nibbles on her delectable bottom lips and nods. “Then let’s go.”
She doesn’t protest this time, following me downstairs. Passing my mom in the hall I drop a kiss on her cheek and let her know we’re going.
Rory doesn’t say much on the twenty-minute drive into downtown. Pulling into one of the garages I grab the ticket from the machine and park.
Rory hops out, sticking her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. Her orange Aldridge sweatshirt makes her brown eyes seem more golden. She reaches up, adjusting her glasses like usual, oblivious to me staring at her. Smoothing a lock of brown hair behind her hair she motions with her arm. “Lead the way, Lestat.”
Exiting the garage at the other end we walk across the street and through an alley to get to the row of shops on the walking mall. Turning to my right, Rory struggles to keep up with my long-legged stride but I don’t slow down.
Sugarland comes into view, the old candy and sundae shop one of my favorite places in the whole town.
Holding the door open for Rory, I can be a gentleman when I want, I enter behind her to see her looking around in awe.
“I remember this place,” she gasps, head tilted back as she takes everything in. “My dad brought me here a few times. Well, me and Hazel.”
She doesn’t talk about her sister much and I wonder what’s going on there. Clearly things weren’t easy for them, but I would’ve thought it would have b
onded the two girls more closely. Obviously not.
The family owned store hasn’t changed much. I can see in her eyes she’s been taken back to another time.
She spins in a circle.
Standing back, I stick my hands in my pockets, watching her take it all in.
The red and white checkered floors, the ceiling with fake candy hanging from every inch of space, the old-time soda pop counter, candy stations, and the sundae builder. It’s a little kid’s dream—but the best part of being an adult is no one can tell us we can’t have too much.
The bell on the door clangs as someone comes in behind us. I move out of the way, letting them pass.
Finally, she lowers her head, and meets my eyes. “Thank you for bringing me here.”
I shrug off her praise. “It’s just ice cream.”
She shakes her head, her eyes shiny behind the frames of her glasses. “No, Mascen. It’s more.”
Placing my hand at the bottom of her waist I guide her toward the start of the line. Her eyes flick up to mine with surprise, forcing me to drop my hand.
“What can I get y’all today?” The lady behind the counter asks.
Rory’s eyes go from the menu to me, challenge glimmering in their depths. “Are you buying?”
“That was the plan.”
She points. “The Kitchen Sink, then.” Eyes back to me, she adds, “And I’m not sharing.”
“Are you sure, dear? It’s huge.”
“I’m positive.”
“It’s fifty dollars,” the lady says, like it’s not listed plainly on the menu.
“Don’t worry, Mascen can afford it.”
The lady looks back at me and pales realizing who I am. Most people in this town are used to my family and don’t give us much notice, which is nice. Basically at this point they’re so used to us that we’re not exciting anymore.
Bad Boys Break Hearts Page 20
