Page 254 of On a Fault Line

I glare at Collins over my shoulder. “You are so…”

“Resourceful?”

“Barbaric.”

He shrugs. “I love it when you talk dirty to me.”

I roll my eyes. “Shut up.”

“No, thanks. I much prefer getting under your skin.”

It’s working, but I don’t share that. Collins doesn’t need any more ammo to use against me. “I’m going to go back to Ivan. He’s probably wondering where I am.”

“Just explain that you were getting railed against the tiled wall in the restroom by the man who owns your greedy pussy.” He shrugs and has the nerve to feign innocence. “I’m sure he’ll understand.” He taps his jawline. “Now, that there is what I’d call barbaric.”

I shake my head at him. “You really can be so smug.”

“Confident,” he counters.

“You need to stop.”

“You know what, Princess?”

I look at him expectantly. I really wish he’d stop using my nickname, the one I once loved but no longer can stand hearing. “What?” I snap.

“I bet you don’t have to say a word to your date.” He spits out the last word like it tastes like poison.

“And why not?”

“Because he’ll probably be able to smell the scent of our cum mixed together that is now leaking out of your pussy from a mile away.”

“Go home, Collins.”

“Only with you.”

“No. You took from me enough tonight. So leave me alone.”

“Maybe I didn’t make myself clear, so let me reexplain. There’s no scenario where I walk out of here without you beside me.”

“Beside you or behind you? Because let’s face it, now that you suddenly want to be honest, you have never put me first.” As soon as the words fly out of my mouth, I instantly realize that they aren’t true. But I’m too committed in this fight to back down now.

“I’ll always put you first, Princess.”

Ignoring him, I walk back to my table with Ivan who is nearly done with his meal.

Was I gone that long?

“I’m sorry,” I mumble.

My lemon pepper fish and tomato cucumber salad rest untouched at my place setting.

He gestures to my dish. “Please eat.”

So I do, but only because I’m too nervous to hold a real conversation.

“I would love another date.”

I shovel in another forkful of fish and pretend to chew it way more than it actually needs. But if I’m chewing, I’m not talking, and that’s the best alternative to letting him down with a rejection.

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