Page 51 of Faultlines

She breathes out a throaty reply, “Yes.”

That’s all the answer I need. I slide my hands under her skirt, the silk cool against my fingertips, exposing her white lace panties. I move them to the side before lowering my face, finding the warmth between her thighs with my tongue. I swipe up and down her folds—once, twice—before I dive in. She tastes sweet and sharp all at once, and I breathe her in.

I explore every inch of her wetness, teasing her with soft flicks of my tongue. Adjusting my pace and intensity based on her sounds. She grabs my hair and pulls, her nails scratch my scalp, her hips beginning to move in rhythm with my mouth.

I slip a finger inside her, working my mouth and finger in tandem. The taste of her is an intoxicating combination I can’t get enough of. Her moans grow louder, more intense, and I know I’ve found the spot that will send her reeling. I increase the pressure with my tongue, my fingers finding that spot inside her, and she begs for release, her voice raw.

She cries out and I love the way she trembles beneath me, her skin slick with sweat. When I look up, I see that her cheeks are flushed.

I move and sit on the couch, the worn fabric squeaks against my skin, and I pull her to straddle me. She struggles to unbuckle my belt, her fingers fumbling with the metal. Once free, I lift my hips and slide my pants down, the denim rustling as I release my straining cock.

She glides her wet pussy along my cock, then positions herself and slides down in one quick motion, causing both of us to cry out.

“Oh God, Brooke,” I say, as I grab her hips. It takes everything in me to still her body so I don’t embarrass myself.

I kiss her gently, holding her still as we explore each other, my fingers tracing the curve of her spine. Every moan she makes tightens something low in my stomach until I can’t hold back, and I thrust up into her. Her breasts bounce in my face, and I grab a nipple with my mouth, switching back and forth between each.

“More,” she pleads. I grab her hips and take over, driving her down onto me again and again until all I can hear is her breath punching out of her in short, broken gasps.

I circle her clit with my fingers. She cries out, a sharp gasp and her hips quicken there rhythm. Matching her pace, I increase my speed. I can feel her clench around me, and we’re both shouting, our voices strained, as we release.

We cling to each other, slick with sweat, my pulse loud in my ears. As the intensity fades, reality comes rushing back. The musty theater air, thick with old makeup and dust, presses in. There’s no defense for what we’ve done.

My hand stills on her back when the thought hits me. “We didn’t use a condom.”

Her body tenses under my palm. “Oh.”

“I’m clean,” I say, the words sitting wrong in my mouth. I taste copper, realizing I’ve bitten my cheek.

When did I last even think about this?

“Me too,” she replies.

My gaze drifts to the door which now hangs slightly ajar. A chilling awareness hits me: anyone could have walked in. The cheap wood paneling seems to mock our recklessness.

Brooke follows my eyes, her own widening with dawning panic. “We should get going.”

She’s right. I nod once, the movement stiff, as she pushes herself off me.

We find our clothes scattered around the room. The rustle of fabric is loud as we dress. Each step toward the exit feels wrong, yet staying feels even more so. The silence is filled with unspoken consequences.

CHAPTER TWENTY

EPICENTER

Claire

The equestrian showcase starts at noon. The gala follows at seven. I gave up on sleep around four, running through mental checklists.

Grabbing my phone, I notice it’s a little after seven. I already have three messages from Lucy. She wants me to come early and assess the damage from last night’s earthquake.

Several more messages wait—from volunteers, the caterer, and other vendors—all asking the same question. How bad is it, and can the fundraiser still happen?

Beside me, Ethan shifts. “Why are you getting up already?” His voice thick with sleep. He must have come in late—conveniently late.

“There’s damage at the ranch from the earthquake.”

A strange expression crosses his face at my words.