“Will that come out I hope?” Mason tightens his belt and watches me rinse my dress in the bathroom sink. Our gazes lock in the mirror. He looks regretful. “Really, really sorry.” He bends down and kisses the side of my head.

I smile, wringing out the material and turning off the water. “I’m going to get it dry-cleaned. That’ll be a fun stain to illuminate on.” I pretend I’m handing off the garment. “My boyfriend got a little excited during anal. Can you press this for me?”

Mason rubs at his face, groaning.

Lord, his embarrassment is adorable.

I laugh and elbow his stomach as I move past him.

“Wanna watch a movie? We can order take-out and stay in.”

He nods. “Yeah, all right. What movie?”

“I don’t care. I have a bunch out there in my room if you wanna look. There’s more out by the T.V.”

I throw my dress over the shower curtain rod so it will dry. I can drop it off at the cleaners tomorrow when I go to work.

“I’m just going to use the bathroom and then I’ll be out.”

He jerks his chin and steps out into my bedroom, pulling the door closed behind him.

I use the toilet, looking up at my dress.

My boyfriend got a little excited during anal.

Or . . .

The man I want to spend forever with got a little excited during anal.

Mm, yes. I like that better.

After washing my hands, I stand in front of the bathroom mirror and run my fingers through my messy hair. It looks lifeless. I tug on the ends and my curls spring back. I twist the front pieces. A sticky substance clings to the pads of my fingers.

“What the . . .” I hold my hand in front of my face, grimacing. “Really?”

I grab my shampoo out of the shower. Gathering my hair over one shoulder, I bend over the sink and scrub my ends, rinsing out the suds and semen.

Only you, Brooke. Only you would get cum in your hair after spending hours styling it.

I laugh when I think about Mason finding out he got his spunk in my hair.

Would he be as apologetic as he was for my dress?

I towel dry the ends a bit so they aren’t dripping and tuck the front pieces behind my ears. I pinch my cheeks and apply some chapstick from the drawer before padding out into my room.

“Finding anything? I’m in the mood for something funny,” I yell out, grabbing a new pair of panties out of my dresser and slipping them on.

Mason doesn’t answer. He’s probably engrossed in whatever it is he picked out.

I open another drawer and pull out a pair of linen shorts and a tank, tossing them on my bed. I apply another layer of vanilla body lotion to my arms, legs, and neck before getting dressed and moving through the doorway.

Mason’s back is to me as he stands beside the couch, blocking my view of the T.V., the remote in his hand.

Nothing is playing. At least I don’t hear anything.

Why didn’t he answer me?

I come up behind him and slide my hands around his waist. His body tenses.

“Hey,” I whisper. “Pick something out?”

“Yeah, sure did.” He quickly steps out of my arms and moves beside me, freeing up my sight. “Care to explain this?”

Startled at his abrupt pull-away and the tone icing his voice, I glance up at the T.V., at the stilled image of myself, naked and straddling another man. The camera angled on me from the side.

I remember setting it on the hamper before I crawled on the bed.

Fuck, I forgot about this.

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.