Page 54 of Fault Line

I pull the sheets up to my chin, a faint blush creeping across my cheeks. My skin still tingles from his touch, the ghost of his lips on my neck, my collarbone. Every time I close my eyes, I’m transported back to last night, to the way he took control again, the way he made me feel so fucking wanted.

I was fully content beneath him here. Invigorated in a way I haven’t been in years.

I can still feel the pressure of his body against mine, the way he moved inside of me, each thrust pushing me closer and closer to the edge.

As I sit up in bed, I’m greeted by the familiar scent of lavender wafting from my bedside diffuser, mingling with the soft murmur of voices from my neighbors beyond the thin walls.

My gaze drifts to another handwritten note and a piece of peppermint candy lying on my nightstand, and a smirk tugs at the corners of my lips as I pick it up. My fingers trace over the slight curves and loops of Holden’s neat handwriting:

K,

Gameday. Sorry for leaving before you woke up. I’ll be thinking about the sounds you made all day.

H

I shake my head, a bubble of amusement rising in my chest as I fire off a quick text.

Kaia

what’s with the candy?

Holden

just something to sweeten your day. besides, it’s all I had in my pocket. well, that and another condom but it didn’t quite hit the same

Kaia

you really know how to make a girl feel special

Holden

thought you might eat it and think of me. you know, something else to fill your mouth with

Kaia

gross

Holden

you’re welcome

I roll my eyes, my lips curving upward despite myself. It’s ridiculous how easily he diffuses the tension, how he can dispel all the lingering doubts in a matter of seconds—quiet those nagging fears that always seem to swirl around in my head.

After a quick morning routine, I slowly wake my way into the empty dining room, thankful that I can spend another quiet morning alone. Or, at least, another morning without Lizzie pestering me about Holden’s dick size.

As I sip my coffee, the weight of the past week melts away, memories of last night sparking beneath my skin. It’s a bittersweet feeling because I know I have my work cut out for me today. And our upcoming advisor meeting looms over me like an ever-present shadow.

But first, I allow myself a few minutes to bask in the afterglow of a night well spent. If I’m correct in my calculations, those seven sweet hours make up the most consecutive sleep I’ve had since my junior year of high school.

Slowly, the day wears on, and I bury myself in my studies, my eyes scanning the pages of countless academic journals. I scribble notes across the margins of my notebook, but every so often, my thoughts drift back to Holden—to the way he held me, worshipped me, fucked into me, until the sensation of his touch is as tangible as the sun’s rays streaming in through my window.

But I can’t afford to be distracted for long.

I need to do well on this lit review, to prove to Dr. Khatri that I’m a force to be reckoned with. As the sun finally begins to dip below the horizon, I force myself to set aside everything else and focus on the task at hand.

When I finish up, well into the late evening, the relief is like a soothing balm to my overwrought mind. I know that I’m one step closer to achieving my goals and proving to our advisor—to myself—that I’m capable, credible, and highly competent.

That I’m worth a solid recommendation for Coastal’s graduate program.

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