12. Hunter #2
“Yeah, live here for a few weeks while she’s gone.”
“I thought you said you’d be fine at your place. Is the cot in your room not working out?” Try as she might, there’s no hiding the nervous edge to her voice.
“Sure, if I don’t mind living under a few inches of sawdust. And I’ve had enough with the sawing and banging.” I pull two plates from the cabinet. Having eaten in this kitchen since I was a kid, I know where everything is.
Sutton grabs napkins and silverware. “Don’t they have some kind of vacuum or something so they don’t make a mess of the entire house?” Her bracelets jingle with each movement.
“Normally, yes, but theirs broke mid-job, and they kept going.” I take the napkins from her hands. “Why don’t you go change, and I’ll get the rest of dinner ready?”
Sutton’s a creature of habit. I know the first thing she enjoys after getting home is showering off the day. I try not to picture that part for too long.
Only ten minutes later, she reenters the kitchen. “It smells so good,” she says.
Her face is now clean of makeup, and her curls are free from the confines of her bun. She’s wearing black leggings and thick socks along with my old gray hoodie. She notices me noticing her and looks down at her toes.
Someday, she’s going to stop looking away.
“Sit,” I command, tossing my beanie on the side counter. “Food’s getting cold.”
We eat in almost total silence, each of us too famished to stop shoving our faces with steak and potatoes. After we finish—like always—we work side by side getting the dishes and kitchen cleaned while rehashing our days.
“I’m sorry I didn’t offer you Luke’s room earlier.”
I nudge her arm with my elbow. “Sure you are.”
Her eyebrows furrow. “I feel bad now. I should have thought of that. It’s like we’re short on extra rooms over here.”
“You’ve had a lot on your mind. Luke did offer his place.”
Our eyes meet at the same time, and we burst out laughing.
“You wouldn’t have gotten any sleep over there,” she says through a fit of giggles.
“Isn’t that the truth,” I say, gathering a soda pop. “Want to watch a movie or something?” I head toward the living room.
She plops into the corner of the couch and makes gimme hands at the blanket I dug out of the basket for her. I hand her the blanket and remote.
“There’s this new detective show that I’ve been . . .” Sutton stares directly at my exposed stomach as I slowly pull my hoodie over my head. I toss it at her face, jolting her from her stupor.
She catches it and sets it next to her on the couch. “I—um, what was I saying?”
“Something about a lame cop show.” I toe my boots off, grab my own blanket, and sit next to her.
“C’mon, Hunt.” She rolls her eyes. “It’s supposed to be good. You can keep your judgments of how fake it is to yourself.”
I zip my lips and sink deeper into the couch as she cues up the show. It won’t matter how bad the show is because I’ll be snuggled up with her.
Hours later, she’s asleep, her head in my lap. I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Sutton?” I whisper.
She mumbles and tucks her hand beneath her cheek. I groan when it comes precariously close to my dick.
“Sutton?” I whisper again, louder this time.
“What do you want, Hunter?” she mumbles.
I pull her blanket over her shoulder. “Where’s the remote?”
“Under my butt cheek.” She lifts her hips, and I dig my hand underneath her warm body to find the remote. I click to the next episode and return my arm under the blanket, curling my hand around her hip.
“I thought you hated cop shows?” she says, breath warm against my thigh.
I run my fingers through her hair, then twist a strand around my finger. I hadn’t kept track of how long she’d been asleep or how many episodes I’d watched until Netflix’s Are you still watching? message popped up, and I realized my ass was completely numb. “Turns out, this one is not horrible.”
“Excuse me, sir,” she says, lifting her face slightly to look at the TV. “You watched almost the entire season without me?” She flops her head down and groans. “You broke the cardinal rule of Netflix and chill.”
I playfully squeeze her hip. “I’m not sure that means what you think it does.”
She snorts. “We’re chilling and watching Netflix, what else would it mean?”
I ignore her question as the show restarts. Sutton doesn’t say anything else, but I know she’s awake. My thumb lazily rubs circles along the baby-soft skin of her exposed midriff.
I pause for half a second, waiting for her to tense.
She doesn’t.
If anything, she presses closer.
“That feels good,” she whispers.
My fingers drift higher, slower. Testing. Waiting. Sutton wraps her hand under my thigh, eyes locked on the screen. When I slip my fingers beneath the edge of her leggings she doesn’t stop me.
“Sutton? Do you want—”
“Yes,” she blurts.
I laugh. “I haven’t asked you anything yet.”
“Yeah, well, whatever you’re about to ask, the answer is yes.”
My hand stills. “You’re sure?”
She rolls onto her back. Her gaze finds mine, and I drag my fingers through her hair and fan it around her head. She looks like a siren.
“Yes and no,” she says.
“That clears things up,” I say with a perked eyebrow. “Explain.”
“No, I’m not sure, because what if we do this and we fuck it all up and I lose you.” She releases a heavy breath and looks at the ceiling.
I don’t say anything, hoping to force her to string together all the thoughts likely spinning in her mind.
“But,” she says, her eyes locking with mine. “I can’t deny we have this connection. And I—” She starts to look away again, but I shake my head, silently urging her to hold my gaze.
My heart pounds.
She’s either about to shatter it or make it whole.
She takes another deep breath, her cheeks puffing out as she exhales, and says, clear and steady, “I want you too much not to explore whatever this is.”
Her words hang in the air between us.
My pulse thrums in my ears, drowning out everything. I want to close the distance between us, but I can’t. Not yet. I have to do this right.
“Once we cross this line,” I say, “there’s no going back.”
Her cheeks flame a deep crimson, and she nods. “I think I might be okay with that.”
“Might be?”
I drag my hand from her belly up over her shirt to the front of her chest and wrap my fingers around the side of her neck. She sucks in a breath, eyes settling into molten lava.
“The time for might bes is gone, baby girl. If you want to actually give us a chance, it’s either yes or no.”
She folds her lips between her teeth, chest rising and falling. I raise one eyebrow in question.
She sits up to face me. “Yes.”
My chest nearly splits open at her answer. After all these damn years, I never thought she’d get out of her own way. I cup her cheek.
“You don’t know how fucking happy that word makes me.” I lean in close.
She bites her lip, eyes flitting to my mouth. “Hunter?” She covers my hand with her own.
“Yeah?”
“Will you kiss me already?”
Never have five words made me so nervous. I’ve pictured kissing the woman so many times. I rest my forehead against hers, our breathing in sync. When I pull away, her eyes are wide, a shy smile tugging at her lips.
“I thought you’d never ask.”
I don’t know who moves first—her or me—but our lips crash together.
Sutton moans, hands finding the sides of my face, thumbs brushing over my jaw. Every nerve in me tightens, but it’s not just desire. It’s relief. It’s years of waiting. It’s her. I feather my hands into her hair, letting the press of our bodies speak what words never could.
Her lips are soft against mine. I feel her pulse beat fast and wild, matching my own.
Everything disappears. There’s just us.
I pause long enough to catch my breath. “Sutton,” I murmur, voice low.
“Hunter,” she whispers back.
In one single, unforgettable kiss, our whole lives have changed.
My hand grips her hips, rolling her more firmly into my chest. Suddenly, Sutton scrambles to her knees and straddles my lap. Her body is warm and soft against mine.
She kisses me this time with such intensity, I forget to breathe. When she tugs my lip, I groan, losing all sense. Her hands fumble at my chest, and I catch her fingers, holding them gently, letting her know I’m right here.
I’ve never wanted anything more than this moment, this closeness, this her. My hands trace the curve of her waist under her hoodie, memorizing the way she responds. She presses closer, welcoming every touch.
“I—” She takes several quick breaths.
“Just breathe, baby girl. I’m right here.”
“It’s nice not to have to pretend.” Her voice comes out low as she buries her face against my neck.
“Pretend?”
“That my hands are yours when I touch myself.”
I groan and feel myself thicken even more. There’s no way she doesn’t feel how she affects me. I pull her to me and slip my hands beneath her bra, wanting to explore every inch of her.
“Can I see you?” I motion to her hoodie.
Sutton bites her lip and lifts the hoodie off. My breath catches. Her hands drift lower, and she watches me like she’s daring herself not to flinch.
“All of you?” I say, shaking my head to focus.
She rises without breaking eye contact and removes her leggings and underwear.
“You’re perfect.”
When she settles back on my lap, my hands tighten on her hips. I’m so tempted to flip her over and taste her, but this is not where I thought tonight would lead, and I want to savor these moments with her.
“Hunter?” She holds my face in her hands.
I drag my gaze up her body and dive into the emerald green sea of her eyes.
“Are you just going to stare at me or are you going to touch me?”
The hint of brattiness rattles me in a good way, and I flip her onto her back, pressing her into the couch. Her legs fall open, and the air between us goes tight.