Page 153 of On a Fault Line

Chris gets up, a little too reluctantly. “Oh, c’mon. I need to see what happens.”

“The boat sinks,” I deadpan.

“Wow, way to ruin the entire movie!”

I look at him as if he’s lost his mind. Clearly he has. “It’s theTitanic.”

Meanwhile, Penny can’t stop from laughing and spilling popcorn all over my pristine living room. This place hasn’t been free of crumbs since before she plowed her way into my life. And I still haven’t adapted to the shock of someone so small making such a big mess.

But oddly, I’m not upset by it in the slightest.

She belongs here—crumbs and all.

But this fucker who is enjoying time with my princess? No.

He needs to go.

My eyes catch Chris’s feet as he walks past. “Dude, where are your socks?”

For fuck’s sake…

“They are inside my shoes near the door.”

“Why are your toenails painted?” I snap.

“It was pedicure day.”

I must have entered some type of alternate universe.

“There’s paint left if you want yours done too,” Penny says with a smirk. “I’m sure your shade is Grumpy Grey.”

“Yeah, Redeye, men should never neglect their cuticles.”

I can’t even with them right now. I help usher Chris out the door, smacking him on the back—probably a little too hard—as he leaves.

Then I stalk back toward Penny, who now has popcorn surrounding her on the couch and the floor. I wonder if she actually consumed any or missed her mouth entirely with each attempt? At least the piece in her hair is gone. That one was irking me.

“No sharing couches or Netflix or fucking popcorn with other men.”

She hums.

“Did you even hear me?” I ask. I can tell my temper is rising exponentially with each passing second.

“Honestly, I’ve blurred out most of it. Why are you ranting again?”

She’s being way too sassy today.

Stalking toward her, I grab her chin. Despite being furious with her, I keep my touch gentle and revel in how she just melts into my palm.

I pet her cheek. “I can see you want to be brave today. Is your mouth filter broken?”

Her eyes find me, and I want to get lost in their crystal-blue depths. “Maybe.”

“You don’t need to work for my attention, Princess. You already have all of it.”

“But Chris is so?—”

My touch turns more intentionally firm. “Do I need to fuck my memory back into you? Or wash your mouth out with my cum to remind you not to speak another man’s name when we are together?”

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