Chapter 19 #2
I've been carrying it for months — letting it exist somewhere below articulation, something I knew the shape of without giving it its name. And then Caleb was standing there with his rage and I opened my mouth and the truth came out before I'd decided to say it.
I love her.
Three words. The most accurate three words I've put together in ten years. I hear them in the silence of this penthouse and I don't flinch from them. I don't reach for anything to soften the weight of them.
I think about Giselle. Not the way I've thought about her for the past decade — not as a verdict, not as proof of something irreparable in me.
I think about her clearly, from a distance that time has finally created.
We were two people who made each other into something neither of us intended.
She needed more than I knew how to give.
I gave what I had and it wasn't enough and we both paid for that.
But Sutton is not that story. She has never once asked me to be less than I am.
She has never needed managing or appeasing or careful handling.
She shows up every day at full capacity and she asks for the same in return.
She called me out in my own office when I was wrong.
She walked into a room full of my world and made it her own.
She looked at me in a hotel corridor in New York and didn't look away.
I have been punishing her for a failure that belongs to a different time and a different version of myself. That ends tonight.
I pick up my phone. I get my jacket. I call the car.
The drive to Pacific Heights takes twelve minutes.
I know the building — my driver has pulled up in front of it more times than I've counted.
I've sat in the back of this car and watched her walk through that door and then driven away.
Every time I told myself the distance was correct. Every time I was lying.
The car stops at the curb. I sit for a moment looking at the building. The lights are on — several floors, no way to know which are hers. I pick up my phone. I call her.
She answers on the second ring.
"Logan?"
"Are you home?" I say.
A pause. "Yes. What's going on?"
"Are you alone?"
Another pause. Longer.
"My roommate's out of town." Her voice shifts — alert now, careful.
"Logan. What's happening? Are you okay?"
"I'm downstairs," I say.
"I need to see you. What floor?"
Silence for a moment.
Then: "Fourth. Unit 4C."
I hang up. I get out of the car, and stride through the lobby and up the elevator in a haze of anticipation.
She opens the door before I knock. She's in an oversized sweatshirt, her hair down, her feet bare on the hardwood.
She looks at my face and whatever she sees there makes her step back immediately to let me in.
I walk into her apartment — warm, lived-in, bookshelves and photographs and the specific texture of a space that belongs to someone who actually inhabits it.
She closes the door. She turns to face me.
"Caleb came to see me tonight," I say.
Something moves across her face.
"I know," she says.
"I saw him."
I look at her. "When?"
"Tuesday." She meets my eyes steadily.
"We had coffee."
"You didn't say anything."
"No." She doesn't flinch from it.
"I didn't know what to tell you. I didn't know what I was going to do with the conversation yet." She pauses.
"I was still working through it."
I hold her gaze.
"What did he say?"
"Things." Her voice is careful.
"Some of it genuine. Some of it designed to land somewhere specific." She crosses her arms — not defensively, just holding herself.
"He said you'd keep me in a box. That it's what you do. That you'd let me get close enough to matter and then restructure everything so I fit somewhere manageable."
The words sit between us.
"Are you okay?" she asks.
"What happened tonight? What did he say to you?"
"He was angry," I say.
"He had a right to be. We said things that have needed to be said for a long time." I take a breath.
"And I told him something. Something I should have told you first."
She waits. Her eyes are on mine and she doesn't rush me and she doesn't look away.
"I told him I love you," I say.
The apartment goes very quiet. Sutton looks at me. Something is moving through her expression that she's not containing — not trying to. It moves openly, honestly, and what I see in it is more complicated than I expected.
She doesn't say anything for a moment.
"Say something," I say.
She exhales.
"You told your brother before you told me."
"Yes."
"You've had months," she says. Her voice is steady but there's something underneath it.
"Months, Logan. And I've been here the entire time, wondering. Trying to read what I mean to you by what you do because what you say has never been enough to go on." She looks at me directly.
"Do you know what that feels like? Being with someone and not knowing if you're real to them? Not knowing if you're a secret or a choice?"
"I know."
"It felt like Caleb," she says.
"Not the same — you're not him and this isn't that. But the shape of it. Being kept somewhere undefined. Being the thing nobody talks about." Her voice doesn't break. It stays level and that levelness is more devastating than any raised voice would be.
"I told myself you showed up in ways that mattered. And you did. But Logan — I needed the words too. I needed to know I wasn't just something you were managing."
I step toward her.
"You're not."
"I know that now." She looks up at me.
"But I needed to say it."
"I know." I stop in front of her. Close.
"I hear you. Every word of it. You were never something I was managing. You were never a secret I was keeping because I could. I was keeping you because I was afraid." I look at her — at this woman who has taken every wall I've built and found the door in it without ever trying to force it.
"I'm not afraid anymore."
Her eyes are bright. She presses her lips together for a moment.
"I love you," I say again. Quieter this time. Just for her.
"I love who you are in every room I've ever watched you walk into.
I love that you don't let me get away with anything.
I love that you show up at full capacity every single day and you expect the same from me and you're right to expect it.
" I reach up. My hand finds her face — my thumb at her cheekbone, her jaw warm in my palm.
"You're not in a box. You're not a chapter. You're what I want. All of it. Every room. No more margins."
She looks at me for a long moment.
Then she says: "I love you too. I've loved you for months and it terrified me."
"I know," I say. "Me too."
She lets out a breath that sounds like something releasing. Her hand comes up and covers mine where it rests against her face.
Before she can say anything else, I grab her waist, pulling her close to me in one swift motion.
She doesn’t resist, her body soft and pliant as I caress her flesh.
My hand moves to her chin, tilting her face up to meet mine as I lower my head, my lips claiming hers in a kiss that’s all heat and possession.
She melts against me, her hands tangling in my shirt as her body presses to mine.
I kiss her harder, deeper, my hand moving to the back of her neck to hold her in place.
She responds with the same intensity, her nails scraping lightly against my chest as she matches my pace, our mouths moving together in a rhythm that’s anything but gentle.
I guide her backward, our lips never breaking, until her legs hit the edge of the sofa.
She pulls at my shirt, her fingers fumbling with the buttons as I slide the sides of her sweatshirt down her shoulders, exposing the soft curve of her skin.
My hands find her breasts, cupping them, squeezing them, relishing the way her body responds to my touch.
She sinks onto the sofa, her eyes locked on mine as she pulls my shirt open, the buttons scattering onto the floor. I shrug it off without a word, my focus solely on her as I reach for the buckle of my belt. Her gaze drops to my hands, her lips parting slightly as she watches me unbuckle my pants.
When I step out of them, her eyes widen, and when I pull down my briefs, releasing my rock-hard cock, her lips part even further. She looks up at me, her expression a mix of surprise and hunger that makes my chest flutter.
I run a hand through her hair, and without saying anything else, she nods, her tongue darting out to wet her lips as she leans closer. The sight of her, so willing, so eager, sends a rush of heat through me, and I grab a fistful of her hair, guiding her mouth to me.
Her lips part, and I groan softly as she opens wide and takes me into her mouth, her warmth and softness almost undoing me on the spot. My hands tighten in her hair, my control slipping as I guide her movements, the sensation overwhelming in the best possible way.
“Just like that,” I murmur, my voice rough with need.
She moans softly, the vibration sending a jolt of pleasure through me, and I curse under my breath, my hands gripping her head as she moves faster, sucking me with hollow cheeks.
Her mouth sliding over me with a skill that leaves me breathless.
My hips move instinctively, matching her rhythm as she takes me deeper, her hands gripping my thighs to steady herself.
The pleasure builds quickly, my control unraveling with each passing second.
I groan, my voice low and desperate as I feel myself reaching the edge.
Before I lose myself completely, I pull her up, gripping her hips as I lean her back against the sofa. Her hair spills across the cushions, her chest heaving as she gazes up at me. I spread her legs wide, the damp fabric of her panties clinging to her wet center.
I don’t waste time. My patience is already thin. Sliding her panties to the side, I position my cock at her entrance, gripping her thighs as I slide inside of her with ease. The slick heat of her pussy walls surrounds me, and I bury myself deeper with a strong thrust.
She cries out, her back arching, her nails digging into my shoulders as I begin to move.
My hips snap against hers, rough and relentless, the sound of our bodies colliding filling the room.
Her moans are music to my ears, her hands gripping the sofa cushions as I take her with an intensity that leaves us both breathless.
Her legs wrap tightly around my waist, her body shaking as her release builds. I can feel her walls tightening around me, and it’s enough to push me closer to the edge. Just as I feel myself about to cum, I pull out, stroking myself as I stand at the edge of the sofa.
“Open your mouth,” I command, my voice a low growl.
Her lips part immediately, her tongue darting out as I guide my cock to her mouth.
A guttural groan escapes me as I release, my cum spilling onto her tongue and dripping down her chin.
She swallows all of my seed, sucking my tip as she pulls herself back.
The sight of her, flushed and eager, leaves me utterly undone.
“I’m not finished with you yet.” I admit, my voice still rough as I reach for her hand, pulling her to her feet.
Scooping her into my arms, I carry her to the bedroom, laying her down on the bed. Her hair fans out against the pillows as I settle between her legs, lifting her hips over me to position her on my face.
My tongue flicks over her clit, and she gasps, her hands clutching the headboard as I delve deeper. I grip her hips tightly, holding her in place as I eat her out furiously, savoring her taste, tongue fucking her wet hole.
She moans loudly, her voice trembling as she grinds against my face.
Her thighs shake, her body arching as I bring her to the edge.
Her release comes in a rush, her juices flooding my mouth as she cries out my name, her body trembling with the force of her climax.
I lap up every drop, holding her tightly as she rides out the waves of pleasure.
I slide her body down and pull her into my arms, her body still trembling against mine.
But the heat between us is far from extinguished.
As my arousal builds once more, I roll her beneath me, capturing her in a possessive embrace.
We spend the next hour having maddening sex.
Stopping and starting after a few minutes each time to catch our breath.
Each climax is overwhelming, sending waves of pleasure that leaves us both breathless and trembling.
We finally collapse onto the mattress exhausted, ending the night as we begin to fall asleep in each other’s arms, exhausted and soiled with the juices of our combined pleasures.We are tangled together under the sheets, our breaths mingling, our hearts finding the same rhythm. I drift off into a dream.