Page 52 of On a Fault Line

“Drink it all.”

“No.”

“Telling me no is only adding kindling to a flame. Drink it all, Penny.”

She pouts out her bottom lip, and instantly I want to bite it. But she starts to comply, downing a large sip and flicking the lid at me—which I easily catch. I think my reflexes surprise her, and I resist chuckling.

“What if I have to pee?” she blurts out, a bit panicked.

It’s such a simple question and yet so human. My eyes soften. “Then I will find you a place to relieve yourself.”

Leaning over the center console, her expression turns serious. “What happens if I need torelievemyself in other ways?” And she has the nerve to spread those little thighs a few inches to punctuate her desire.

Fuck.

I should have known this is how the drive back to our apartment building would go with a tipsy Penny riding shotgun. Every time she drinks too much, her mouth loses its filter and her body craves to be worshipped.

At least the apartment is closer to us than the past two times at the club where the drive was over thirty minutes long.

I’m not sure how much I can take before losing all control.

After a long pause, I sigh and then ask, “Are you ready to go?”

“Back to the convent? I guess so.” Then she proceeds to mess with the seat adjustments. Busting out in laughter, she sits up so straight that there’s no way possible it could be comfortable. I just watch. And she just grunts and keeps playing with the buttons, making herself into a human accordion.

She’s a beautiful disaster.

“Are you okay?”

“I can’t get comfortable.” Her slurred words come out as a whine. Her bottom lip pops out again, and I doubt there can be anything more adorable in the world than this image. “Quit enjoying my struggle and help me.”

“Slide the button on the right toward the back seat and then tilt the back portion of that button down so that you can recline some. Just go slow.”

I start the engine when she seems to have found her sweet spot with the settings and pull out of the parking spot to merge onto the street.

Penny takes it upon herself to reset all my radio stations to some with static and classical music.

And I let her.

Even in her drunken state, she is angelic, with the sunlight causing her blonde tresses to shine gold. A fiery enchantress with the sweetness of a strawberry.

We drive in silence, listening to a choppy Mozart song.

In my periphery, I notice Penny doing some stretches.

Why she finds the need to perform chair yoga is beyond me.

But it’s her moaning that causes me to sneak a real glance.

Fuck.

“You’re just going to touch yourself while I drive you back?”

“I’m a passenger princess after all, right? I don’t know how to drive, and I don’t know how to go out without an entourage. So I might as well enjoy the benefits of self-care while having my ass toted about the city.”

I watch as her hand disappears between her thighs and under her skirt. “Penny…”

“Don’t worry. I won’t come all over your precious seats. I’m wearing panties today.”

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