Fuck! How much has he watched?
“You made a sex tape, Brooke? Are you fucking kidding me?” His voice booms through the condo, echoing off the ceiling.
The hairs on my neck stand up. I’ve never heard him this angry before.
I’ve never heard him angry at all.
Lowering my hand from my mouth, I turn to Mason. “Where did you find this?” I ask, moving closer.
“Your room. It had your name on it. I thought it was a home video or something.”
His shoulders stay hunched forward. His gaze straight ahead, burning into the screen.
I picture the disc on my shelf. I had stuck it up there and left it. I haven’t touched it since.
“You as a kid, or with your mates. I wanted to see that,” he adds, rubbing at his mouth. “Not this,” he mumbles.
I pinch my eyes shut, then shake my head, looking up. “I forgot it was in there. I’m so, so sorry. Here. Turn it off.”
He wrenches his arm away when I reach for him. His cold eyes send a shiver through me. “Don’t.”
I pull back. He doesn’t want me to touch him? “Mason.”
“You were in there awhile. I got to watch the whole thing. You and him.” He jerks his head at the T.V. .
The pain in his voice distorts his accent a bit. His words sound stiff. Fully pronounced, unlike the lazy, sluggish speech I’m used to hearing and loving.
I press my fingers to my mouth, shaking slightly.
Oh, God. He watched the whole thing.
“No,” I whisper.
Any part of this, a second or a glimpse is too much for him to see. But all of it?
He slowly turns his head, his blue eyes so dark they almost look black. “The whole fucking thing, Brooke.”
My stomach drops. “Mason, I . . . just, turn it off.” I reach out again. “Let’s get rid of this. You shouldn’t keep looking at it.”
“Why not?”
He tosses the remote. It hits the coffee table with a loud pang.
I jump. “Mason.”
“Why the fuck not? I’ve watched it. It’s out in the open now. It’s no longer a secret.”
“It was never a secret.”
“Yeah? Everyone knew about it but me, huh? When was this taken, Brooke?” he asks, looming over me. His pain shifting to a louder reaction. Anger. “When I wasn’t fucking you? Did you go out and get it somewhere else?”
“W-What?” I blink up at him, my voice sounding miles away.
Is he seriously implying I’ve been screwing around on him?
“No! This was months ago. Before I met you. How could you say that?”
“How could I say that?” he laughs darkly. His lips curling against his teeth. “I don’t know. Maybe because that’s all you’ve cared about this entire time. I was just a hard dick you wanted, right? And you weren’t getting it.”
“No, you weren’t . . .” My voice shakes. Tears well up in my eyes.
What is happening?
“No?” he asks, disbelieving. He runs a rough hand down his face. I catch the slight tremble in it. “Jesus Christ. Why do you even have this? Do you fucking watch it? Do you and your mates sit around and get off on this together?”
I gape at him, expecting him to recoil at his own words. To apologize and take them back, but he doesn’t. He stares at me with nothing but disgust and anger swelling in his eyes. Maybe a hint of sadness. A shred of what I’m feeling.
I’m having a nightmare. This can’t be real.
I ball up my fists as tears spill onto my cheeks. “No, we don’t. I have it so he doesn’t have it. I took it months ago, after it was filmed, months ago. I’ve never watched it. What is wrong with you?”
He gestures at the T.V., bending to get closer. “I just watched you getting fucked by someone else. You. And you’re going to ask what’s wrong with me? I just saw another man having his hands on you, his dick in you, and the woman I care about more than anything getting off on it. I just watched you fucking come!”