Page 137 of On a Fault Line

Collins’s hands massage the tension out of me, kneading my muscles and sending ripples of pleasure through all of my limbs.

“I don’t want you worrying another second over the bastard.”

He may not be worried over the trial, but I sure am.

Yet, I have other reasons to worry over my own mental health. At this point in our contract, I’ve already tied those invisible strings from each of our hearts, and with each memory made by spending time together, I am making the knots get stronger.

We are living on the same wavelength, hoping that time slows down.

Saying goodbye is going to destroy me.

Rolling over, I nuzzle my nose into Collins’s neck. “You smell so good.”

His arms and legs wrap around me, locking me to him like a vise.

“I never want to let you go.”

Same.

But that’s the thing… We are living life on a fault line.

Our phones both start vibrating simultaneously from the nightstand.

“Unbelievable,” I groan. “Can’t anyone respect the need for sleep?”

“It’s almost noon, Pen.”

I thrust myself out of bed, running through my mental list of plans for the day, and then realize that my days consist of two things…pleasing Collins and being pleased by Collins.

“I really need to get a job. I mean, I have one but something more consistent.” Maybe then I wouldn’t find my only purpose for the day to be sneaking my way between Collins and the mattress.

And the man finds it comical when I try to veer from the plan—to change things up—when I always end up defaulting back to being his little slut for the day anyway.

Granted, I’m not complaining. I also know that I’m never going to find a job with as good of a benefits package as his. But Plus None is pretty perfect.

Collins leans over my boneless body to grab our phones, passing mine to me.

“It’s Graham,” he says with a nervous edge to his tone.

I can already tell that a little bit of guilt is slithering into our day—and it hasn’t even officially begun.

“Days can’t start until I am out of pajamas.” I wiggle under the sheets and realize I don’t even have those on. “Ha. I’m not wearing any. Oh well, clothes are overrated anyway.”

I glance over at Collins whose focus is on the screen of his phone.

“Get dressed.”

“What does Graham want?”

“He’s in the lobby.”

“No.”

But Collins doesn’t joke.

Oh, hell.

“He wants to check out your new place,” he continues.

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