8. Sutton
— ? —
Sutton
Spencer called my name, his voice a distant hum I didn’t have the air to acknowledge.
I was already gone, shoving past mahogany tables and startled guests, my lungs burning as if the air in the ballroom had turned to lead.
The doors swung shut behind her, but I caught them, the vibration rattling up my arms as I lunged into the corridor.
She was halfway down the hall. Walking fast, heels clicking against the marble.
“Charlotte, stop!” I roared, the sound echoing harshly off the stone walls. “Don’t you dare walk away from me.”
She spun around so violently I thought she might fall. Her face wasn’t just flushed; it was a map of total emotional collapse. Her eyes were wide, bloodshot, and frantic, darting around the hallway as if looking for an exit from her own skin. Her chest heaved in ragged, shallow jerks.
“Or what?” she shrieked, the sound raw, stripping the elegance from the hallway. “What are you going to do, Sutton? Stand there and look at me? Judge me? I am finished! Do you hear me? I am at the absolute end of what I can carry!”
I closed the distance between us, my shoes loud against the floor. My hands were shaking. I shoved them in my pockets so she wouldn’t see. “You don’t get to throw a tantrum and storm off like you’re the victim here.”
“A tantrum,” she repeated, her hands curling into fists at her sides. I watched the tendons in her neck go taut, watched the anger flush up her chest and into her cheeks. “You think this is a tantrum.”
“I think you’ve been hiding in Newport for six months, playing the wounded party, and now you’re running again because you can’t handle being in the same room as me,” I said. My chest was tight. My jaw was aching from how hard I was clenching it.
Her chin lifted and her eyes flashed. “I’m not running from you. I’m walking away from a conversation that serves no purpose.”
“Walking away is what you do best, isn’t it?” I asked, stepping closer. I could smell her perfume now, that same scent she’d worn when we were together, and it hit me like a punch to the gut. “You walked away from us. And then you went right to him.”
“You don’t know anything about what I did,” she said. Her voice cracked on the last word and I saw her catch it, saw her force her expression back to stone.
Her hand came up and I caught her wrist before she could make contact. Her skin was hot under my fingers. Her pulse was racing, hammering against my grip. I held her there between us, close enough that I could see the gold flecks in her eyes.
“Let go of me,” she said through her teeth.
“No,” I said, pulling her closer. Her body was rigid, fighting me, but she wasn’t pulling away. “You don’t get to hit me and walk away. You don’t get to disappear again.”
“I don’t owe you anything,” she said, trying to twist her wrist free. Her breath was coming fast now. I could feel it against my face.
“You owe me the truth,” I said. “You owe me an explanation for why you divorced me and a year later you marry someone else like I meant nothing.”
“You want to talk about nothing? You made me feel like nothing for two years. Every canceled plan. Every forgotten promise. Every time you chose your work over me.”
“And Reynolds was the answer?” I asked, letting the contempt drip from every word. My heart was slamming against my ribs. “Reynolds with his family money and his perfect pedigree? That’s what you wanted? Someone who’d never challenge you? Someone who’d just show up and go through the motions?”
“Someone who’d actually be there,” she spat. Her eyes were wet now, but she blinked hard, refusing to let the tears fall.
“I’m here now,” I said.
“Now doesn’t count,” she said.
“Why not?” I asked, pulling her closer still. Our chests were almost touching. I could feel the heat radiating off her body. “Because you’ve already made up your mind? Because it’s easier to hate me than admit you still feel this?”
“I don’t feel anything for you,” she said.
“Liar,” I said. My voice came out rough, raw. “Your pulse is racing. Your breath is short. You’re shaking, Charlotte, and it’s not from anger.”
“It’s absolutely from anger,” she said.
“Then why haven’t you pulled away?” I asked. “Why are you still standing here, letting me hold your wrist, letting me get this close?”
She didn’t answer. Her chest was rising and falling fast, her lips parted, her eyes locked on mine. I could see her swallow. Could see the flutter of her pulse in her throat.
“That’s what I thought,” I said.
“You don’t know what I’m thinking,” she said. But her voice was weaker now.
“I know exactly what you’re thinking,” I said. “You’re thinking about what it felt like when I touched you. About all those nights we spent together, all those mornings I woke you up with my mouth on your skin. You’re thinking about how Reynolds has never once made you feel the way I did.”
“Stop it,” she said, but she didn’t move.
“Does he know?” I asked, stepping closer, crowding her back toward the wall. “Does Reynolds know what you sound like when you come? Does he know the spot on your neck that makes you gasp? Does he know how wet you get when someone touches you the way you need to be touched?”
Her back hit the wall. I planted my hands on either side of her head, caging her in. Her breath caught. I watched her pupils dilate.
“You’re disgusting,” she said, but she didn’t push me away.
“Maybe,” I said. “But I’m not wrong. Am I?”
“You’re wrong about everything,” she said.
“Then push me away,” I said. “Tell me to leave. Walk away like you always do.”
She didn’t move. Her breath was coming fast and her cheeks were flushed and I could see her pulse fluttering in her throat. My whole body was aching to touch her. My hands were trembling against the wall.
“God, Char, you have no idea how much I’ve missed you,” I said, and I kissed her before she could respond.
She made a sound against my mouth, half protest, half surrender. Her hands came up to my chest like she was going to push me away and then her fingers were fisting in my shirt, pulling me closer.
I kissed her hard, my tongue sliding past her lips. She kissed me back with the same fury, her teeth catching my bottom lip, biting down hard enough to make me groan. The pain shot straight through me, mixing with the want until I couldn’t tell them apart.
I pulled back just far enough to look at her. Her lips were already swelling, her eyes dark and wild. My chest was heaving. My hands were shaking against the wall.
“Tell me to stop,” I said.
“Go to hell,” she said, and pulled me back down.
The second kiss was rougher than the first. I grabbed her hips and lifted her, pressing her harder against the wall. Her legs wrapped around my waist, her heels digging into my back, her hands clawing at my shoulders. I could feel her nails through my shirt.
My tongue stroked against hers, deep and demanding. She whimpered into my mouth and the sound went straight to my cock. I ground my hips against her, letting her feel how hard I was, and she gasped, her head falling back against the wall.
I dragged my mouth down her jaw, down the column of her throat. Her skin was hot under my lips, salty with sweat.
I found the spot below her ear and bit down gently, then soothed it with my tongue. She moaned, a low desperate sound that made my whole body ache with need.
“Does Reynolds make you sound like that?” I asked against her neck. I sucked at the sensitive skin, hard enough to leave a mark. “Does he know this spot drives you crazy?”
“Shut up,” she breathed, but her hips were rocking against mine, seeking friction. I could feel the heat of her through our clothes.
“Answer me,” I said. I kissed lower, along her collarbone, my hands sliding up her sides. Her ribs expanded under my palms with each ragged breath. “Does he touch you like this? Does he make you this desperate?”
“I’m not desperate,” she said.
“No?” I asked. My hand found her breast through her uniform, my thumb brushing over her nipple. She arched into my touch, a whimper escaping her lips. I could feel her nipple harden under the fabric. “Your body says different. Your body says you’ve been waiting for someone to touch you like this.”
“My body doesn’t know what it wants,” she said.
“Your body knows exactly what it wants,” I said. I rolled her nipple between my fingers and watched her eyes flutter closed. Her mouth fell open. Her hips jerked against mine. “Your body wants me. It’s always wanted me. No matter how much you try to pretend otherwise.”
I kissed her mouth again, my tongue sliding against hers in long deep strokes. She melted into it, her fingers tangling in my hair, her body pressing against mine. I could feel her heart pounding through her chest, could feel the way her breath hitched every time I touched her.
My hand slid down her stomach, over her hip, down to her thigh. I hooked my fingers under the hem of her skirt and dragged it up, exposing more skin. She shivered at the contact, her breath catching. Her thigh was smooth and warm under my hand.
“If I touched you right now,” I said against her lips, my voice rough, “if I slid my hand between your thighs, what would I find?”
“Don’t,” she whispered. But her legs tightened around my waist.
“You’d be soaking wet,” I said. “Wouldn’t you? You’re wet right now just from this. Just from my mouth on your neck and my hands on your body.”
“You arrogant bastard,” she said, but there was no heat in it. Her voice was breathy, wrecked.
“Tell me I’m wrong,” I said. I pressed my thigh between her legs and she moaned, grinding down against me.
I could feel the heat of her, could feel the way her body responded to the pressure.
“Tell me you don’t want this. Tell me you don’t want me to rip these clothes off and fuck you against this wall until you can’t remember your own name. ”
“We can’t,” she said, but her hips kept moving, riding my thigh. “We can’t do this.”
“We already are,” I said.
I kissed her again, swallowing her moans. My hands were everywhere, her breasts, her hips, her ass, pulling her tighter against me. She was trembling in my arms, her whole body shaking, and I could feel how hot she was even through the layers of fabric between us.
I broke away from her mouth and dragged my lips down her neck, biting and licking and sucking. She threw her head back and moaned, loud enough that it echoed off the corridor walls. The sound made my cock throb.
“That’s it,” I said against her skin. “Let me hear you. Let me hear what I do to you.”
“Sutton,” she gasped.
“Say it again,” I said. I bit down on the curve of her shoulder and she cried out, her nails raking down my back. “Say my name.”
“Sutton,” she moaned. “God, Sutton, please.”
“Please what?” I asked. I slid my hand higher under her skirt, my fingers brushing the inside of her thigh. Her skin was so soft.
“I want…” she started, then stopped, her eyes flying open.
I could see the war happening behind her eyes. Her whole body went rigid in my arms. Her hands flattened against my chest and she pushed. Hard.
I stumbled back a step. She dropped down from my waist, her feet hitting the floor, her skirt falling back into place. Her chest was heaving. Her hair was wrecked. Her lipstick was smeared across her chin.
“Charlotte…” I started.
“Don’t,” she said, holding up a hand. She was breathing hard, her whole body shaking. “Just don’t.”
“What’s the problem?” I asked. I stepped toward her and she stepped back, putting more distance between us. “Two seconds ago you were grinding on my thigh and moaning my name.”
“That was a mistake,” she said.
“Didn’t feel like a mistake,” I said.
“It was,” she said. “This is a mistake. All of it.”
“Is that what you’re going to tell yourself?
” I asked. I moved closer and she held her ground this time, her jaw tight, her eyes blazing.
“Is that what you’re going to tell Reynolds when you go home to him tonight?
That it was all a mistake? That you didn’t mean to let another man put his hands all over you? ”
Her face went white.
“That’s what this is, isn’t it?” I asked, pressing my advantage. “You’re another man’s wife now and you’re standing here in a hallway with your skirt hiked up and my marks on your neck. What do you think Reynolds would say if he could see you right now?”
The slap came fast.
Her palm cracked across my face with enough force to turn my head, enough force to make my ears ring, enough force to send me stumbling back. My cheek exploded with pain. I pressed my hand to my face and stared at her.
“Fuck you,” she said. Her voice was shaking with rage. “I didn’t marry him. And even if I had, you have no fucking right to call me a slut.”
I went still. The words didn’t make sense.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I asked.
“I never married Reynolds,” she said again. Her eyes were wet now, tears spilling down her cheeks despite how hard she was trying to hold them back. “No thanks to you.”
“That’s not…” I started.
“I stood in that dress,” she said, her voice cracking. “I stood in that church and I waited for you to come.”
“Char… what do you…” I said.
“But you never came,” she said. “You never showed up. You never even tried. So I ran. I couldn’t marry him. I couldn’t do it. Not when you were the only person I wanted.” Her voice broke completely. “And you weren’t there.”
“I didn’t know,” I said. “I had no idea…”
“You should have known,” she said. “You should have cared enough to find out.”
“I saw the announcement,” I said. “I thought…”
She scoffed. “Of course you did,” she said. “Of course you just believed what was easiest to believe. You never bothered to check, never bothered to call, never bothered to look for me.”
“Charlotte, please, just let me…”
“Well, it’s like you to be in denial,” she said, cutting me off. Her voice was cold now, all the heat replaced by ice. “Fuck you, Sutton. Stay the fuck away from me.”
“We need to talk about this,” I said.
“I said stay the fuck away from me,” she said.
She turned and walked down the corridor. I watched her go, my cheek still burning, my whole body frozen in place.
I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t do anything except stand there and watch her disappear around the corner.