7. Sutton
SUTTON
A MONTH LATER
Standing in my bedroom doorway, I admire Foster half-naked on my bed, ankles crossed, back against the headboard, shirtless.
He hears movement and quickly holds up my phone. “Your phone chimed. I think it’s all charged now.” He jingles it in his hand and holds it out to me.
I flop onto my bed, still in my satin tank top and shorts, landing on my stomach with my phone.
I check my battery, spot the peak ovulation notification and briefly consider finding a birth control that works for me, before dismissing it.
Instead, I think about tomorrow morning and open the gym app—free membership is a Haven Crossroads perk.
“Anything riveting?” he asks as he swings his legs to the side, sits on the edge of the bed, and picks up his watch from the bedside table.
“I’m contemplating tomorrow’s Pilates class.”
He glances over his shoulder with a humorous glare while fastening his watch, likely worth as much as my rent. “You shouldn’t need one. Not after the last hour.”
I chuckle under my breath and drop my phone onto the mattress. “That was quite a performance.”
“We had to make up for lost time. I was away all week in Houston.”
That’s what has become of us.
Two people who, in blatant terms, have sex whenever we have a chance. That’s what it is. He and I both need a release from a stressful day and recognize that we are the perfect match to help one another.
But we also share dinners and send texts that aren’t sexual.
“Didn’t we need to burn off that BBQ?” I tease.
“Hey, that supplier’s dinner at a low-key BBQ joint that uses plastic forks was genius, delicious, and casual enough for them to warm to us.” He grins to himself. “I even asked for information to get some of that stuff shipped here.”
“Such a foodie. But I let you get away with it because I sent you a gazillion articles on some new restaurants…and you also bought me barely-there sleepwear that I’m thoroughly enjoying right now.”
He smirks sheepishly. In between food discussions, I sent him a few pics asking his preferences. Next thing I knew, a box arrived at my place.
As he yawns, Foster rubs his tired face with both palms. “It was also an exhausting few days.”
I crawl my fingers across the sheet, inching toward his arm. “Yet you made it here at 10 p.m. as soon as you landed.” I tap his elbow.
Foster gives me that sinful smirk. It’s knowing, slightly cocky, but completely for me. “Priorities.”
The room grows quiet as we stare at each other. I blush while his eyes remain on me, and a small smirk plays on his lips.
Normally, we part ways now, but lately, I’ve been struggling to ignore a growing wave of feelings I can’t quite name.
All I know is that we’re in our own bubble. Nobody knows what we’re doing. I’m convinced I’m the only one who sees him as he is with me: relaxed, funny, not at all how he is in the office.
“It’s late,” I say. Time for my attempt at a goodbye. We got what we needed.
“It is.” He glimpses real quick at his watch. “I have to be in the office by 7.”
“You need sleep then,” I say blandly, as our eyes lock.
His fingers brush my arm, his mouth dipping to place a gentle kiss on my shoulder. “It’s easier if I send my driver home and stay here.”
Relief fills me. I’d hoped he’d say that.
Alarm bells should be ringing, but they’re not.
“Completely.” My tone is neutral, with no ounce of joy coming through.
The corner of his mouth pulls knowingly, both of us aware we had only one outcome in mind from the start.
Our routine is familiar, almost like clockwork.
He quickly unclasps the watch he just put on and sets it on the table.
I sink deeper into the mattress, rolling onto my back while he shoots off a text.
The bed's warmth is a mix of him beside me and anticipation for what we'll do together. He switches off the light. As I settle on my side, he rolls to face my back, his hand tracing the curve of my body.
“You won’t be making that Pilates class in the morning,” he whispers gruffly into my ear, every word dripping with a heated promise.
I smile in the dark, pressing my body against his.
“Night, Foster.” I pretend to sleep, purely theater, as my fingers lace with his.
“Don’t you dare.” He scoots down the mattress, and under the duvet, his hands run along the length of my legs.
I’m helpless to resist, my body always responds to his touch.
He lies on his stomach and parts my legs, planting a kiss and another up my thigh.
My breath gets caught with every touch he gives as he moves up.
“We should sleep. We have a busy day at the office tomorrow.” My tone is playful, but thick with pleasure because his tongue swipes above my pubic bone, taunting my clit purely by not being close enough.
His chuckle is devilish, short, and deep in his throat. “Exactly why I need to destress… again. Now, be a good girl, or I will have to stuff your mouth so you stop talking.”
That’s it.
My breath hisses the moment his tongue lands on my clit. I’m completely at his mercy, and I already know it will be that way all night until we fall blissfully asleep.
And that’s a problem.
I don’t want any space between us. On New Year’s Eve, I realized something: falling asleep in his arms is heavenly. I sleep better; it feels safe.
We probably need to redraw our boundaries before things spiral, but for now, I’m letting that thought drift away.
With coffee in hand, I sit behind my desk, ready to start the day but taking a moment to unwind and mentally prep myself for a new week in the office. My mom is on the other end of the video call, smiling brightly.
“So yeah, I bought your dad an electric guitar for his birthday.”
I nearly spit out my coffee and laugh. “You what?”
“We’re not getting younger, and he’s always wanted to try. I remember when I met him and he wanted to buy one, but then, well… we got sidetracked.” She tips her head to the side with a wry smile.
My mouth stretches at her subtle reminder. "Sorry, I ruined his rockstar dreams." I was an accident, an unexpected pregnancy, and they married before I was born.
“Doesn’t matter. Look at us now.” She splays her hands out. “Retiring early and relaxed. I’m still folding his socks, too.”
It doesn’t faze me that they are a minority according to statistics of those who marry due to a baby and are still happily married decades later. But gosh, when I look at them together, I never remember seeing any moments of regret. They are love, funny, and quirky. An inspiration to many.
“Well, I’ll be sure to put in earplugs next time I visit,” I tease, setting my coffee down on my desk and opening my laptop.
“I’m holding you to that visit.”
“When I’m more settled in my job,” I remind her.
She nods, and our conversation quickly shifts from birthday gifts to the logistics of their house sale. She asks if I need to contact their agent in case I need to head to Everhope. We trade quick updates on friends before I say goodbye and start my workday.
My workday runs smoothly. I can’t say the same for Foster. I lean against Foster’s office door, hand on hip, waiting for him to finish his call.
“Easton, I don’t give a damn. Figure it out with Olivia.
Marketing and HR will be sharing the budget on recruitment this year.
” Foster sounds aggravated and impatient as he stands behind his desk, his eyes meeting mine as he continues to rant.
He shakes his head while he listens to Easton on the other end.
I only hear mumbles, but he isn’t pleased either.
“Don’t let me hear about this topic again.
And for the billionth time, stop calling her Olive.
She hates it, and we don’t need HR pissed off,” Foster bites out as he swipes his thumb across the screen to end the call, and he sets his phone down on his desk.
“Rough day?” I ask.
“No. Just those two are a headache.” He waves me in.
“I think it goes way back,” I say, strolling in.
His eyes bug out, and he cranes his neck. “What?”
I shrug and smack my lips, suddenly aware of how unprofessional this is. But it’s Foster—no holding back—and we have a rule to keep things between us. “Maybe they…”
Foster begins to grin as though he struck gold. “They what?” He won’t give up.
Blowing out a breath, I hate myself right now. “Her brother was in Easton’s fraternity, and maybe he and Olivia…”
Foster’s jaw drops slightly. “That’s why he calls her Olive. He’s more than familiar with her?”
“I don’t know. I assumed…”
His deep chuckle is devilish, and his grin is ear-to-ear. “No shit. He never mentioned. They act like they hate each other, and we all assumed it’s two personalities clashing.”
“Yeah, I noticed.” I refuse to continue this conversation. “I came here because I’ve been summoned,” I say as I sit down on the chair in front of his desk, crossing my legs and folding my hands on my knee, completely switched off from the fact that he was inside me the other day.
“I like it when you say you’ve been summoned.” He simpers as he unbuttons his suit blazer and slides it off, hanging it on the back of his chair before he plants himself down.
I gawk at him. We’ve been good at separating our two relationships. Let’s not start to go downhill now.
He clears his throat and switches on our conversation. "We finished the contract, and I thought that was it for a while. But I've been told you'll help me again with the renewal of our truck supplier's contract in Canada. Your colleague will be out recovering for a while."
"Right. We've done this before—work and play. I’ll review the contract and send over my points. It’s likely a quick amendment to the existing agreement. Nothing major."
“Exactly. If you have any questions, you can ask Chris in my department.”
Instantly, I huff a laugh because I’m amused. “Are you avoiding me?”
His eyes glint. "No. Is it safer? Sure, but I have to deal with the new forecast numbers. You can wrap this up by next week."
“Believable,” I confirm, but still smile wryly. “With that said, I’ll let you be.”
“Thanks.”