13. Sutton
Sutton
The absolute best-worst sound in the entire world is listening to the man I love pleasure himself in the shower. Wait, no, scratch that. It’s listening to him moan my name when he climaxes.
I lean against my bedroom wall that shares a side with the bathroom. The shower runs for a bit longer and finally shuts off. The last dregs of shaving cream forcing their way through a can pierces the air. I mentally add the item to my shopping list.
I picture Hunter lathering his cheeks. Is he naked?
Or does he have a towel wrapped around his waist?
I press my ear flat against the wall. If I’m going to lurk, I might as well make it worth it.
I hear the tapping of a razor against the sink and the splash of water.
A buzzing I know belongs to his electric toothbrush comes next, making me think of a different buzzing.
The door to the bathroom unlocks, and I peek out the small crack of my barely open door.
Hunter steps into the dimly lit hallway and tilts his head as if hearing something in the distance. Then he drops the white towel on the floor and struts into his room. His firm ass cheeks flex with each step, and I audibly groan.
“You know,” he says, catching me off guard. “You don’t have to hide.”
I suck in a sharp breath. “I am not hide . . . okay, I’m totally hiding. But what the hell else am I supposed to do when I wake up hearing you in the shower?” I raise an eyebrow.
“Could always join me next time.” He winks and disappears out of sight.
I huff and flop onto the bed. I don’t have any idea what I’m doing here—I’m so far out of my element—but I’ll be damned if I’m not intrigued and excited to finally explore things with Hunter. If Greer can be brave despite the hardships in her past and step into the unknown, I can too.
My phone buzzes from the nightstand. I know it’s Greer because she’s the only one of us who’s up before the sun.
Greer: I’m going to leave the brushes and paint trays on the front porch. You can pick them up whenever you want.
Me: Great, thank you!
Me: I’ll swing by this morning on my way to the house.
Greer: You’re not painting by yourself, are you?
Greer: We know what happened to me when I did that.
Me: I’m not going to fall. Plus, everyone is working today.
Greer: Isn’t Hunter off?
My heart picks up speed at the mention of his name.
I haven’t told the girls anything about Hunter and me.
I know they’ll be happy for us, but I’d like to enjoy a bit of anonymity for a while longer before our relationship becomes public knowledge.
If it’s even a relationship. Maybe I’m the only one labeling it that, and Hunter views it as a situationship.
Me: No, he has to work today.
Greer: Be safe and text me if you need anything later. I’ll be done with school around 4.
I heart her response, toss my phone onto the bed, and head to the shower. The bathroom is still thick with steam and the heavy scent of Hunter’s body bar. It’s a hard one to forget—Irish Spring. I could buy him any luxury brands, and he’d still use his tried-and-true products.
I strip down and turn on the water. My bracelets and rings clink when I set them in the glass tray on the counter. I twist my hair high on my head, put on my shower bonnet, and step under the spray. I shower quickly, not wanting to miss Hunter leaving for the day.
I step from the shower, towel wrapped around my body, when there’s a tap tap tap on the bathroom door. My heart flops over, picturing Hunter stalking into the small space, stripping the towel away, and kissing me like he has all the time in the world.
“Sutton?” he calls through the still-closed door. “Can I come in?”
I shout, “Door’s unlocked.”
Hunter opens it, and his jaw drops in sync with mine. He looks incredible in dark wash Wranglers, a teal pearl snap, and his black Stetson. His face is smooth except for his mustache.
Goosebumps cover my body at his blatant appraisal of my towel-clad body. I fidget with the corner and tuck it more firmly underneath the edge of the towel. My body tingles with the intensity of his gaze, remembering the other night.
“Take it off,” he commands.
I swear, I don’t know what it is about this man and bossing me around, but . . . I think I kind of like it. I drop the towel, leaving my body completely exposed to his hungry gaze.
“I could get used to this,” he says, bracing his hands on the top of the doorframe.
Me too. I look at my toes and shuffle my foot nervously over the plush bathmat.
Before I completely combust, I turn back to the vanity and grab my comb, but it’s at this exact moment I realize I’ve still got my shower bonnet on.
My face heats, and I glance at Hunter through the mirror. He steps up behind me.
“Can I?” He gestures to my bonnet.
My cheeks turn a deeper red, but I nod. He carefully lifts the lavender silk from my head, releasing my wild mane. I shake it out, the ends brushing along my collar bone.
“I love your hair like this.”
He leans forward, sets his hands on the counter, and blocks me from escaping. Hunter dips his head down and places a soft kiss on my shoulder. My eyes close on their own volition.
He drags his nose along my skin, up the column of my neck, and gives me an open-mouthed kiss right below my jaw. I stutter out a breath. His lips pepper kisses along the back of my neck to my other shoulder at the same time my hands caress over his.
“I can’t wait for tomorrow night,” Hunter says as he steps away.
My eyes snap open from his abrupt departure, and the cool air left in his absence sends shivers down my spine.
I huff. “That’s really not fair.”
“What’s not fair?” His smirk gives him away too easily.
“First, I have to listen to you pleasuring yourself in the shower, and now this,” I say. “I think if you don’t touch me again soon, I might actually die.”
“Baby girl,” he says, his voice deep and gravely, “you might like to control everything and be in charge out there in the real world, but when it’s just us . . .” He licks his lips.
My breathing accelerates. “When it’s just us, what?”
“I’m going to need you to let go.”
“Okay.”
I’m slightly shocked at my immediate acceptance.
But I know he’s right. I’ll need to loosen the grip I keep on every aspect of my life—thinking and overthinking everything imaginable.
Thinking and worrying and worrying and thinking gets exhausting.
I’d love to turn my brain off every now and then and just be, but it’s harder than it looks.
“You look really handsome,” I say in an attempt to veer us to safer, less combustible territory.
He holds his arms out to the side and does a half turn. “I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to not having to wear a uniform for work.”
I step into the hallway now and crowd him. I stand on tiptoes and capture his lips in a kiss. “Have a good day, baby.”
His eyes flare at the nickname. Warm hands smooth over my hips and settle on my low back. Hunter lifts me off my feet, and I wrap my thighs around his waist. His thickening cock strains against his jeans. He walks me into my bedroom, not saying a word, and lowers me onto my unmade bed.
“I wish I had more time,” he says, “but I’ve got to get going.” Hunter crawls over me, placing his knee between my thighs. He reaches for the top drawer of my nightstand and pulls out my vibrator. The soft hum fills the room as he switches it on and hands it to me.
“How did you—”
“Because I know you, Sutton.” He bends his head and places a kiss on the side of my breast. My entire body goes numb.
I dip my roller in the tray of blush-colored paint and watch the color spread across the wall with each smooth stroke. You’d think the repetitive motion would calm the buzz of emotions swirling inside my head, but it only seems to magnify them.
After years of what-ifs and almosts, Hunter and I have crossed into something more.
My chest tightens at the thought of our date with a mix of anticipation and something I can’t quite name.
I haven’t been on a date in well over six years, and I’ve certainly never been on an official date with Hunter.
Suddenly, the door downstairs slams open, followed by two voices echoing through the empty house. I freeze, and my heart leaps, but then I recognize the very distinct tones.
Navy and Greer.
I glance at the clock. Of course. I should have known they’d come by right after work. Instead of heading home or doing whatever they usually do when they get off, they’ve decided to ambush me. I roll my eyes, a small smile tugging at my lips.
Navy’s voice carries up the stairs, laced with dramatic suspicion. “Do you think she’s hiding now that she knows we’re here?”
“Who knows?” Greer says. “But either way, she has questions to answer about a certain someone.”
This is classic Navy and Greer, always too curious for their own good.
I can’t help the laugh that bubbles up. These two are impossible not to love. I set the roller down, wipe my hands on my jeans, and head toward the staircase. “I’m upstairs, you nosy Nellies!”
Their footsteps echo as they climb the stairs. Navy appears first with her trademark grin, Greer right behind with a coffee in hand.
“Please say that’s for me?” I can’t remember when I last had anything to eat or drink.
“Duh,” Navy says. “I drank enough at work to fuel a jet airplane for a week, and Lord knows Greer has an IV drip of caffeine connected to her now just to keep up with thirty second-graders.”
I take the paper cup from Greer, savoring the warmth that seeps into my cold hands. Normally, I’m one that treats coffee as an indulgence, but right now, it’s a necessity.
“Well, this room is very”—Navy spins in a slow circle, taking in the wall color—“pink.”
I roll my eyes and try not to laugh. “It’s not pink. It’s blush. A very soft and subtle—”
“Pink,” Navy deadpans. “I also think you might be confused about your definition of subtle. It looks like Barbie’s Dreamhouse.”
I gasp, feigning offense. “Okay, first of all, Barbie’s Dreamhouse is iconic, and second, it’s blush—not pink.”