Page 80 of Fault Line

Holden and I share an incredulous look, and I almost let out a full-bodied laugh. Somehow, I manage to restrain myself, and we roll ahead with our introductions. After placing our orders, Sofia turns her attention to Holden.

“So, Kaia tells me you’re a hockey player,” she says.

Holden flashes his signature smile, a grin that could light up the entire room. “That’s right.”

She cocks her head, feigning innocent curiosity. “So what is it that your parents do?”

“My father’s a partner at Becker and Slate.”

Andrew snorts. “Ah, so a real job, then?” he mutters under his breath.

Holden bristles at the comment. “Hockey’s a real job, and I fucking love it.”

Sofia raises a skeptical brow. “But don’t you think you could be doing something more stable? Something more ... practical, like working at your father’s firm?”

“I’m doing what makes me happy,” Holden says. “Isn’t that what’s most important?”

“But what happens when you get injured?” Andrew chimes in. “You’ll be out of a job with nothing to fall back on.”

“I have a backup plan,” Holden says coolly, narrowing his eyes. “Kaia and I share the same major, actually. And I’ve been looking into the possibility of biomedical research. I could use my degree to help people in a different way than my dad does.”

Sofia looks impressed. “That sounds like a solid plan.”

“Sounds like a pipe dream to me,” Andrew says dismissively. “I mean, what’s the likelihood of that actually happening?”

“I have faith in myself and my abilities,” Holden says firmly, working to keep his jaw from clenching.

“Still seems like a lot of uncertainty.” Andrew scoffs, his tone petulant. “At least I know where my future’s headed. My father has connections at Piper and Ellis, you know?”

Holden rolls his eyes. “Good for you. I don’t see how your father’s connections are relevant to this conversation.”

“At least I’m not wasting the privilege I’ve been given,” Andrew snaps.

Oh, Jesus Christ, I can’t take this anymore. “Can we please change the subject?” I say, my voice sharp.

Sofia tilts her perfect little head. “Why? Is our discussion bothering you, Kai?”

“Yes,” I snap. “It’s bothering both of us. Holden’s hockey career is important to him, and it’s not something to be made fun of.”

Holden squeezes my hand under the table, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. “That’s my girl,” he says, voice low, an endearment meant just for me.

Sofia and Andrew exchange an irritated look, but thankfully, they drop the subject before my sister can resort to her favorite insult. It’s good for everyone involved because her calling me a brat again certainly would’ve thrown me over the edge.

The rest of the dinner is awkward, with Andrew mostly talking about himself and his upcoming career prospects. But Holden doesn’t let it get to him. He knows that he’s on the right path for himself, even if it’s not the most traditional.

Instead of engaging further, he sneaks his hand under the table to rub my knee. His fingers slowly work their way higher and higher, brushing my dress to the side as they dance toward my inner thigh.

I gasp, poorly attempting to disguise it with a cough, and nudge him with my elbow. But as he continues to rub circles against me there, my breathing turns shallow. I work hard to tune out the two assholes across from me, focusing instead on the sensation of Holden’s hands on my skin.

His fingers reach the fabric of my panties, and he pauses when I involuntarily clamp my legs together. I glance over, making eye contact, and give him the tiniest nod of encouragement.

If my sister and her boyfriend can’t show us their basic respect, then they certainly haven’t earned ours in return.

With my consent, he moves full steam ahead, sliding his fingers up and into my panties. I’m soaking wet for him like I always am. And the smirk on his lips, the sparkle of mischief in his eyes, has my pussy clenching around nothing.

I’m at a public diner—sitting across the booth from my nearly estranged sister—and I want Holden’s fingers to fill me up. But instead, he works his thumb over my clit, pressing and rolling it between the rough pads of his fingertips.

It feels so good, so fucking dirty, that I can’t stay quiet for much longer. I need him too badly. All of him.

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