Page 166 of If Our Hearts Collide

Yes.

I help her snap her belt into place because she’s clearly incapable of taking care of herself right now.

“It’s because of the fact that if we are in an accident, the pressure from the airbags exploding will cause your femur to snap in half.”

“Okay, Boy Scout. Always going straight to da worst-case scenario.”

My eyes twitch over the usage of a childhood nickname that she’d have no way of knowing was assigned to me at a young age due to my resourcefulness.

“Do it, Penelope.”

“Fine, fine.”

If I wasn’t certain by the way Penny is slurring her words that she is drunk, then it is abundantly clear by how she is finding humor in everything.

What is she doing?

Why are her legs spreading like that?

What is she doing?

“Collins?”

I’m not sure how my name has evolved into having four syllables, but Penny seems to enjoy her nonjoke, so I don’t try to act like she is out of sorts.

I ignore how Penny’s skin ripens to the softest shade of pink when she laughs.

I ignore the way her voice heightens in pitch when she giggles.

And I ignore the fact that I can see the lace of her fucking panties every time she shifts in her seat.

Please shut those delectable legs.

“Yes, Penny?”

“I want you to touch me. Right”—she spreads her legs wider and cups the mound of her pussy—“he?—”

“I know where!”

She readjusts herself in her seat. “Why are you yelling at me?”

“Sorry.” I clear my throat to try to remove some of the hoarseness. “I didn’t mean to raise my voice.”

“Do you think someone could die from horniness?”

What the actual hell? Is this a real question? And why has she deemed me the expert? This is going to be the longest twenty-seven minutes back to Sky View Apartments.

I swallow the saliva pooling in my mouth, keep my eyes trained on the other parked cars surrounding us, and manage not to choke on air.

“I was just thinking”—her leg kicks up and soon her foot is dangling into my side of the vehicle—“how sad it would be to not be thoroughly fucked and then to not make it until tomorrow. Tra-gic-c.”

Lovely. She is getting extra creative with her mispronunciations, which just lets me know she has had way toomuch to drink tonight. Reaching into my center console, I pull out a bottled water. “Drink.” My one-word directive comes out hoarse.

“Ever the sex muffin of a Boy Scout. What else you packing up there in secret? But quit distracting me. Let’s get us back to dying of horniness… Thoughts?”

I take a deep breath, not sure if I should even contemplate answering, but Penny saves me the trouble of deciding by filling the space with more drunken word vomit.

“I mean…there’s only so much comfort a toy can provide a pussy cat before it craves the real cream. Do you agree?”

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