Page 65 of On a Fault Line

That’s the thing with injectable birth control—some women get sporadic periods, albeit lesser in intensity. If I was responsible enough to manage taking the pill, at least then I would know exactly when I would start my period.

Regardless, I’ve never met someone of the opposite sex that didn’t shy away from all things pads and tampons—ever. He is definitely breaking down some stereotypes that memes are made from.

He sets me gently onto the side of the bathtub and busies himself getting it ready for me. I watch with awe as he adds some essential oils to the water before helping me settle in.

Collins steps out of the room and returns with hot tea, a glass of water, some crackers, and a container of ibuprofen.

“You think of everything.”

“You make me want to be the best version of myself, Penny. And caring for you is the easy part.Youmake it easy.”

“I’m really sorry about the bed. I’ll wash the sheets.”

“Stop worrying about something so insignificant.”

I take a few sips from the mug that Collins hands me. “Hmmm…chocolate-covered strawberry tea. Delicious.”

“Glad you like. Are you in a lot of pain?”

I shake my head. “Not a ton, but the cramping seems to be picking up. I usually get pre-period cramps to warn me that it will be arriving soon. But this time I didn’t get much foreshadowing. I should have been watching the calendar. I am one of those unfortunate ones who still get a period on the injectable birth control. I’m forever unlucky.”

Collins shakes out a couple of pills and hands them to me. “Here. Make sure you eat some crackers with them and drink a lot of water. Staying on top of the pain will be best.”

I relax into his version of pampering, allowing him to take care of my basic needs.

Sitting on the edge of the tub, Collins massages my neck and shoulders.

“You keep rolling out the red carpet for me, and I’ll never want to leave.”

It doesn’t take long for the massages to move lower, over my heavy and sore breasts that get so sensitive around this time. Collins adjusts his pressure based on the tightening and loosening of my body, using my reaction as feedback on what I like and don’t like.

My head tips back, resting against the side of the tub and between Collins’s legs that are soaking in the water. He’s still wearing his boxers.

“Is there room for me in the tub?”

It’s a silly question because we’ve spent time in the water together, so I take it as if he wants to ensure my comfort level is okay—which is weird. If anyone should be uncomfortable, it should be him with sharing the same water with me.

I nod, craning my neck to give him a smile. “There’s always room for you.”

If Collins is fine with it, then maybe I should be too.

I revel in the front-row view of Collins undressing, enjoying every ripple and flex of his muscles.

The man is built like a statue made of steel.

“There’s no part of you, Princess, that I am not enchanted by,” Collins says, adjusting himself behind me so I can sit on his lap.

My legs splay open, allowing my knees to be on the outside of his. His fingers play with my inner thighs, walking along the path upward to my core.

“You always make me feel so desired.”

“You are,” he agrees. “And I know that there are ways to ease some of the tension from your cramps.”

His fingers massage northward, getting dangerously close to my pussy.

Will he really want to sink his fingers into me when I’m on my cycle? Surely not.

Even being in the water, it has to be mentally weird.

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