Page 25 of On a Fault Line

It’s impossible to look at Penny and not want to give her the world.

And no matter how many times I remind myself that this arrangement is only temporary, I know that I won’t be able to completely eradicate her out of this apartment when our time is up. Her memory and the little trinkets she’ll leave behind will be permanent reminders of something that I had possessed and then lost.

Between Penny’s hair bands showing up on nearly every doorknob and the place always smelling like a movie theater with her need to serve popcorn as if it belongs in its own food group, I don’t think I realized just how much I needed her in my life to shake things up. And now I can’t imagine her not being in it at all.

But long-term isn’t realistic, and the false safety of forever isn’t in the cards.

Every day Penny wakes up in my arms, I imagine the day when the only version of her I have will be a ghost of the memory.

Bending down, I turn on the water for the bath and secure the stopper into place. I add some bath products that smell like strawberries and help Penny slide into the bubbly water.

“Ahhh, this feels so good.”

I smile at my sweet girl, as she closes her eyes and rests her head back along the edge of the tub.

She makes me wild with desire, and deep down, I worry that my possessive nature will scare her beyond repair. It’s not in my DNA to do things halfheartedly.

I want all of her. I won’t leave any part of her unexplored. I am that greedy.

But it’s Penny that holds the power to destroy me.

And that feeling of being out of control is what drives me to want to put up those emotional barriers.

“I am lonely,” she whimpers, as her hand slides between her legs under the water. “And…”

“And?”

She wiggles, making the bubbles dance along the surface and causing a few to float up before popping from the pressure. Her brows knit together, and it’s that pained expression that has my own emotions on overdrive. “It’s just that…”

I sit along the edge of the tub, reaching over to gently move Penny’s chin so she is looking me in the eyes. “You can tell me anything, Pen. And you will tell me what has you so distraught.”

“I think when I was”—a blush blooms on her cheeks—“getting railed early this morning and then coupled with the angle that I was grinding you on the terrace caused a bit of a brush burn inside of me. Ithink. I honestly don’t know. But it feels funny now that I’m in the water.”

I knew we were being too rough, but I didn’t weigh the consequence of her getting hurt.

Fuck.

“I am sorry I hurt you.”

“No.” She shakes her head adamantly. “No, no. It actually doesn’t feel funnybad. It feels”—she twists her legs under the water—“like I can’t stop thinking about my…” Her throat clears. “Pussy. It’s making my mind hyperaware of the sensitivity.”

I inwardly groan at her sweet innocence. It’s that part of her that I’ve been tainting and stealing every chance I get.

But how does someone not react when this little princess is struggling to say dirty words and trying to explain the sensations she is feeling?

Drunk Penny is sassy and stubborn, but Sober Penny is sweet and shy.

I am a fan of both sides.

Reaching down between her thighs, I gently touch her under the surface of the water, watching her squirm as my fingers come close to slipping inside. She clenches her thighs together as tight as she can, forcing me out.

My eyes darken at her blatant refusal of my touch. “I just want to check you and make sure everything is okay.”

I probably created little tears inside of her that need some time to heal.

She shakes her head no. “I can’t. It’s too intense.”

The gentlemanly thing to do would be to give her that needed space to get better.

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