Page 136 of On a Fault Line

I’m the one who is corrupting her.

I’m the wolf that is salivating over the little lamb.

My smile can’t be contained around this girl. “Hi.” She doesn’t seem sick, yet I can’t help but ask, “Are you feeling okay?”

Penny swallows. “I think I just need some water. My throat is dry.”

I nod in understanding. The later part of the evening consisted of more alcohol consumption, so it’s no surprise that she is slowly feeling the negative effects of those choices now.

I get us into the elevator and up to my floor. As soon as the door clicks into place and the security system is set with just the push of a button, I feel like I can finally relax.

This entire day was one big stressful event. Between the fear of casting suspicion on our arrangement and the desire to bury Ivan in the field behind the Hoffman house, I’m ready for some downtime.

All of the things I will need to handle can wait until tomorrow.

Right now, focusing my attention on taking care of my princess is just what I need to distract me from the life that is lived outside of these walls.

I toe off my shoes. Penny follows suit with hers, flinging them across the room in opposite directions.

Why do I find her chaotic behavior that is so opposite of my rigid routines charming?

Before Penny, any amount of mess would have sent me on a mental tailspin. Yet now I find the clutter comforting.

That’s what Penny does to my space—my life.

She shakes it all up.

26

PENNY

Collins and I are a bundle of intertwining limbs when I start to come out of my sleep coma. I love these lazy mornings with him, where we have no place to be but in bed together.

I breathe in his clean, masculine scent. He smells like a beautiful rainstorm in the middle of an evergreen forest.

He makes it easy to lose track of time—and often days.

We have fallen into a peaceful rhythm of enjoying each other’s company, while fucking each other into oblivion.

Every activity spent at home turns into me getting railed and impaled.

I’ve gotten very comfortable walking around naked in his space. It honestly makes it easier to enjoy a movie or chores together, when we both know how the task will end.

Collins makes me forget that just weeks ago, I was slipping into a bad state again at the photoshoot. It’s as if he is consuming all of my waking thoughts, and if I just take that plunge, maybe he’ll be the center of my life—and not the looming sense of doom that is surrounding the upcoming Mark Tanner trial.

“Your mind is elsewhere, Pen,” he warns.

I know. And I feel guilt over it. It’s not like I enjoy my negative thinking. It just seeps through sometimes—and especially in the morning when I’m lying in bed and it’s quiet.

“Do you think I have to testify? I don’t want to. What happens if I freak out on the stand? I don’t want to see his face anymore. It freaks me out to think about him staring at me in court. I just don’t want to do it. But I’ll have to. Right?”

Collins tucks me tighter into his side. “I want you to listen to me, okay? Trust me that I will protect you, and your brothers will protect you at all cost. Do not worry about a trial.”

Turning to look at him, I try to seek out the reason. “But what if?”

“I don’t want you worrying over this. I will handle it.”

“But maybe I should talk to the lawyers to see if they will delay the trial. I just don’t think I can emotionally handle anything right now.”

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