24. Hunter
Hunter
She’s already slipping out of bed when my eyes open. Instinct kicks in, and I reach for her before she gets too far. Sutton squeaks as I pull her back into the covers, wrapping my arms around her waist and chest. “Where are you sneaking off to?” I murmur against the warm skin of her neck.
Her lips press against my forearm in a tender kiss. “Going to get some work done before we leave.”
I roll over, bracketing my arms on either side of her head. “But what you really mean is you’re going to assess the damage in the kitchen for the tenth time while trying to come up with some way to become a catering expert.”
Her green eyes flare, and she purses her lips. “I mean, technically, that is work.”
“Technically”—I lean forward and plant a kiss on her lips—“I told you to take the day off, and you agreed.”
She snorts. “I’m almost positive I didn’t actually agree to anything. You just took charge like a bossy ass—”
“Watch it,” I say. “Or that mouth’ll get you in trouble before the sun’s even up.”
I can practically see the wheels turning in her mind, but instead of flinching or retreating, she stays exactly where she is, and I’m not sure if I want her to listen or fight me a little.
I know Sutton is a strong-willed, fiercely independent woman and is used to taking on the world. And for years, I let her lead, if only to keep some kind of peace between us. I didn’t want to push her any farther away than she already was.
But now that we’re here? Together? My only wish is for her to let go sometimes and let me lead too. Not because I don’t think she can, but because when she’s with me, I want her to feel safe enough, protected enough, to stop thinking. To stop worrying.
“What kind of trouble?” she whispers.
“The kind that we’ll both like.”
Her eyes flicker, her throat bobs in a swallow, and her fingers curl against my sides. And then she softens. Just enough to let me see the truth: she wants this. Wants me. Wants the space to collapse into something that isn’t responsibility. I feel it like a damn earthquake.
She leans up, lips centimeters from mine, her voice barely there. “Maybe I want that.”
I ease down and kiss her shoulder, her collarbone, the place beneath her jaw that makes her wrap her thighs around my waist. It would be so easy to spend the day wrapped up in one another, but I can’t miss the meeting I have with Logan.
“Let me grab us breakfast for the road while you shower,” I say. “Then, we’ll get going. No work for you. No more worrying.”
“But I thought we were going to . . .” Her voice fades off.
I press into her warmth. “We can do that later.”
Her body relaxes under me, and for a second, I think I mean it. That I can walk away, grab breakfast, and be responsible.
But then she shifts against me, her fingers brushing up my sides, and it’s enough to undo every good intention I had.
My forehead drops to hers, breath uneven now for an entirely different reason.
“Or maybe,” I murmur against her lips, “we don’t wait.” I grab her hips. “And I join you in the shower and we pick up food on the way.”
“I like that idea.”
Her hands are moving already, tugging at my shirt, as I kiss her again. I help her, pulling the fabric over my head before reaching for the hem of hers, my fingers skimming warm skin as it lifts and exposes her body to me.
We stumble toward the bathroom in a quiet rush, half-laughing, half-breathless, like we’ve done this a hundred times and still can’t get enough.
The shower turns on, steam rising behind her as I push her under the spray. Water hits our skin as I lift her in my arms. Her legs wrap around my waist, holding me there.
“Oh god.” Her head drops back as I drag myself through her center, and for a second, I lose track of everything but her. I’m not sure I’ve seen anything more beautiful than her right now—letting go and letting me lead.
I glance down between us, wanting nothing separating us. “Sutton, can I—”
“Yes, please, baby.” She buries her face against my neck, hips moving in my hands. “Please . . . I want you. I want to feel you.”
A rough breath leaves me as I move with her again, slower this time, dragging out just enough to make her gasp.
“I don’t have time to be slow and gentle.”
Sutton’s head falls back, eyes locking onto mine as she lowers herself onto me, taking me fully. I groan, fingers tightening at her hips and thighs, at the heat of her, the way she pulls me in.
“I don’t need gentle.” She rolls her hips. “I just need you.”
The words hit me like a match to gasoline.
I steady her against the shower wall, driving into her in a rhythm that’s anything but controlled. Her breath against my shoulder, her grip tightening, matching every movement.
My name falls from her lips, no longer whispered but shouted into the space between us, and it’s enough to push me further, to make me lose control completely.
Pleasure builds fast and sharp as she tightens around me, her body already giving in.
“You should see yourself.” I lick up the side of her neck, my pelvis grinding against her. “You look so good like this . . . Let me see you fall apart.”
Her fingers dig into my shoulders as she does, her body giving way all at once. The way she holds on to me, the way she comes undone, pulls me right to the edge with her.
I won’t last much longer.
I pull out, setting her down carefully, my hand still on her as I fist myself and release onto her belly. My head drops forward as pleasure continues through my body.
For a second, everything goes quiet except the sound of the water and our heavy breathing. When I look up, Sutton’s eyes are glued to the mess I’ve made of her.
I tilt her chin, bringing her eyes back to me. “You okay, babe?”
“More than okay.” She grins. “That was so hot.”
I huff out a quiet laugh, pulling her back under the water. We move through the rest of the shower quickly, trading off, hands slower now.
I grab two towels and wrap her up in one.
“I want to start every morning like that.” She steps out, glancing back with a look that tells me if we don’t put clothes on soon, I may not make my meeting.
“I love you.” I press my forehead to hers. “Now, go get ready.”
She tilts her head and kisses me. When she pulls away, her eyes are full of desire, but most of all, trust.
Outside, the truck waits, warm sunlight spilling across the hood. The storm that’s been sitting over our town all week has ended, and ribbons of retreating clouds paint the blue sky. The air feels sharp, as if the storm ushered in winter before fall even stood a chance.
Sutton comes prancing out of the house looking like a model from a magazine.
Wide-leg jeans paired with a tight cream tank and a deep navy, cable-knit cardigan accentuate every dip and curve of her body.
She tosses her hair over one shoulder as she checks the contents of her bag.
Now, I don’t know much about bags, but this thing looks large enough to hold a bank ransom.
“What all you got in there?” I gesture toward her bag with my chin as I hold open her door.
She pulls out her wallet, a pair of gloves, a protein shaker bottle, what appears to be hand cream, a granola bar, a hair brush, and what I think might be a baseball. Seemingly satisfied, she looks up at me, beaming, and says, “Sorry, did you say something?”
“Are you worried about the apocalypse or what?”
“Har, har, very funny,” she says. “You failed to tell me exactly what our plans are today, so I brought a little bit of everything.”
I offer her a hand, which she readily accepts. She shoves her bag on the floorboard of the truck, steps in, and shimmies across the bench seat.
“I’m sure we’ll need the banana,” I tease, pointing at the very green banana sticking out of a side pocket.
Sutton rolls her eyes. “Get in the truck, Hunter.”
A flash of desire sparks in my vision at her bratty behavior.
I pulled strings at a spa in the city and booked a couples massage. I figure a day of shopping while I meet with Logan, good food, and a little pampering is just what Sutton needs to unwind and relax a little.
Ground Up is our first stop, and, much to my pleasant surprise, Navy isn’t working. Not that I’m scared of her or anything, but I’m glad I don’t have to listen to her poke holes in what Sutton and I are finally building.
I know she loves Sutton like a sister and only wants the best for her. And logic tells me she’s right—Sutton does have a lot to work through. But I’m ready to take on whatever that might look like.
While we wait for our food, Sutton makes one final bathroom pit stop. My phone pings, and I pull it out to see a message from Logan.
Logan: Hey man, you on your way?
Me: Grabbing coffee, then we’ll be on the road.
Logan: Between what little Daley said, we’ve got a good list of possible locations.
Me: Good to know. Meet at your office? I’ll drop Sutton off at the home store first.
Logan: You’re letting an unaccompanied Sutton roam free in that store?
Me: I’m sure it’ll be fine.
“Order up,” James calls from behind the counter.
I startle and drop my phone. It clatters to the floor, but thankfully, the screen is still intact.
“What’s got you all . . . whatever this is?” James asks. He puts two forks and napkins in our bag.
I shake my head to clear out the bullshit. “Nothing, just stuff at work.”
“That’s right. Detective Michaels.” He slides the bag to me. “How’s that going?”
“Honestly, man,” I say, “it’s a lot more than I thought it would be.”
“What is?” Sutton’s voice catches me off guard when she steps beside me.
“Hey, Sutton.” James’s smile turns up about ten notches. “You look nice today. I mean, you look nice every day.” He snaps his mouth shut, cheeks turning a slight shade of crimson. “Your hair. It’s different.”
Sutton bites her lip, suppressing a crooked grin. “Oh, yeah, I’m trying something new, leaving it down every now and then.”
Like it has a mind of its own, my hand grazes along her back and into her hair. James doesn’t miss this—his eyes dart from Sutton to my hand very intimately resting on her neck. I clear my throat rather loudly.