Chapter 35
“What if I told you Lynlee’s at Ms. Tutty’s until nine?” Sutton said, her voice low and confident like she’d already made up her mind. “And that for one night, I want to be something other than a mom?”
Colter felt that land deep. Not like a temptation, more an invitation.
He shifted her to the end of the seat, until her ass was barely hanging on. Close enough that the space between them felt charged. So close he could smell the season on her skin, see the streetlight glimmer off those cobalt pools, the unmistakable want in her eyes.
“I’d say that one night isn’t going to be nearly enough time for everything I’ve been thinking about.”
He let his hands slide slowly and deliberately, memorizing the way she felt under his palms.
“You’re trouble,” she said lightly.
“You say that like it’s new information.” He dipped his head, brushing a kiss where her pulse fluttered. “And none of those thoughts involved you holding back.”
“You get one hour,” she said firmly. “Then I go back to being a mom and you go back to being you. So make it count, doctor.”
Colter lifted his head, studying her face, the determination there. “Did I ever tell you I’m good at negotiating?”
“One night.”
“I like a challenge,” he said, smiling.
She didn’t let him finish.
Her hands slid up his chest and suddenly she was kissing him again—no hesitation or second-guessing, just heat and intent and all the things she’d been holding back crashing forward at once.
He groaned softly against her mouth, hands tightening at her waist as she pressed closer, like she’d decided this moment mattered and she was done pretending otherwise.
There was nothing more captivating than a woman who knew what she wanted and that changed the balance of things. Especially when what she wanted was him.
Her scent hit him first—warm and spicy, like wine and something darker beneath—and it tangled with her taste until his thoughts scattered. When her mouth softened against his, when her breath hitched just slightly, something inside him snapped clean in two.
He’d barely been able to think straight when she was a restaurant’s length apart. Now, knowing how much she’d been holding back? He was finished.
He slid his hands up her ribs until he reached the undersides of her breasts, pulling her closer, grounding himself in the curve of her body, the way she fit against him like she’d always known exactly where she belonged.
She shivered at the contact, a soft sound slipping from her lips as she pressed closer instead of pulling away.
“Not here,” she murmured against his mouth.
But she didn’t stop him. If anything, she leaned in closer, breath unsteady, nails skating down the back of his neck.
“Okay,” he said, voice rough, even as he kissed along her jaw, her throat, lingering just long enough to make her inhale sharply. “Then tell me where.”
She tried to answer, but her hands betrayed her—sliding over his shoulders, tugging him closer. God, she was intoxicating like this. So open and wanting and completely unapologetic.
He kissed her again, slower now, like he was memorizing her. Every small reaction—every breath, every tremor, felt like permission.
“My place,” she whispered, the words barely audible but unmistakable.
That did him in.
He shifted, leaning back just enough to really look at her—to take her in. The way her clothes were rumpled, the way she looked at him like she was standing on the edge of something dangerous and choosing it anyway.
“Your place it is.”
The trip to Sutton’s place took less than she expected. In fact, they made the five minute drive in under three and when they reached her apartment building they both sprinted up the pathway.
Colter had a longer stride, so he was practically pulling Sutton along.
The closer they got to Sutton’s place, the higher her anticipation grew.
By the time they reached her front door, nerves were buzzing through her veins—right alongside want and adrenaline and the very real awareness that this moment mattered.
She shivered.
Colter noticed immediately, his hands sliding down her arms, grounding, steady. “You cold?”
“No,” she said honestly. “Nervous.”
He searched her face, softening. “There’s still time to change your mind.”
That—right there—did something to her. The way he offered an out, giving her the pace she needed without expectation. The way he meant it and the fact that he was choosing her pace instead of pushing his own made heat curl low in her stomach.
“No,” she said again, firmer this time. “My head’s just scrambled. Mostly by your smile.”
His mouth tipped into that smile—warm, crooked and so addictive she craved it—and butterflies took flight in her chest.
“Someone reminded me tonight,” she went on, breathless now. “That instead of doing what everyone expects, I should do something for myself.”
“And what do you want to do?” he asked, teasing just enough to make her pulse spike.
She loved this version of him—relaxed and unguarded, fully and completely present. She hadn’t realized how long it had been since she’d really seen him like this. The last time had been breakfast at Miss Kitty’s.
“You,” she said. “I want to do you.”
Colter kissed her like he’d been holding back all night, one hand sliding to her cheek, the other pulling her close, sealing her to him. The world tipped. Her thoughts scattered. Everything narrowed to his mouth and the way he kissed like he meant it.
“Inside,” he murmured against her lips. “Before I lose my mind out here.”
“Inside works,” she breathed.
She fumbled for the door, and they stumbled in together, laughing softly as they bumped into walls and furniture, unable—or unwilling—to put space between them. When she tripped, his hand was already there, steadying her, holding her like he always would.
“Obstacle course,” he murmured.
“Temporary.”
“Then let’s get rid of the layers,” he said, voice rough, hands warm and confident as they worked together to shrug off her coat. When it finally hit the floor, his hands slid over her back, her hips, reverent and appreciative.
He kissed her like it was something to savor, not to rush, but slow, deep, and intentional.
After a moment, he pulled back just enough to look at her, flicking on the light and taking her in fully. His gaze was unfiltered, appreciative and quite possibly a little awed.
“Seeing you like this…”
She shook her head, laughing under her breath. “You’re going to have to be more specific.”
His eyes darkened as he stepped close enough that she could feel the heat rolling off him, close enough that backing away would’ve taken real effort.
“This,” he said, one hand lifting, stopping just short of touching her. “The way you look at me when you stop pretending you don’t want this. The way you’re standing there like you’re daring me to make the next move.”
Her breath hitched. “Colter—”
“I know,” he cut in, quieter now but no less intense. “Believe me, I fucking know all the reasons we shouldn’t. I’ve memorized them.”
“And yet,” she said, barely a whisper.
“And yet,” he agreed, his mouth curving into a smile that was all heat and no humor. “Here we are.”
The silence between them pulsed, and when he finally reached for her, it felt less like a decision and more like surrender.
No one had ever looked at her the way Colter was looking at her now.
Not like she was something to hurry through or turn the lights off for.
Not like she was familiar or expected or easy.
He looked at her like she was a revelation—like he was cataloging every inch, committing her to memory, savoring instead of rushing.
It made her ovaries ache.
He took a seat on the couch and, leaning back, cupped her hips and gently guided her toward him. He opened his legs so she could slide between them, then looked up at her and, sweet baby Jesus, he made her want to do filthy, filthy things.
In the past, sex had been … was fine the word she was searching for? Predictable was more like it.
Lights dimmed. Sheets pulled high. Her body treated like something functional instead of something worthy of attention.
But Colter wanted to see. And she wanted to let him.
“Can you—” Her voice wobbled, so she steadied it. “Can you unzip my dress?”
“Yeah,” he said softly. “I can do that.”
His fingers brushed her back—slow, reverent—as he found the zipper and drew it down inch by inch. The sound felt impossibly loud in the quiet room. The fabric loosened, slipped away, until the dress pooled at her feet and she stood there in nothing but mango-colored lace and nerves.
He exhaled, low and stunned. “Christ, Sutton.”
Heat rushed to her face. Instinctively, she crossed her arms, trying to hide the parts of herself she’d learned to apologize for.
“I know. I don’t exactly—” She gestured vaguely. “This is what happens when you have a c-section.”
Her gaze dropped to the faint stretch marks at her hips. The softness. The way things weren’t where they used to be.
Colter didn’t let her finish. He gently caught her wrists and, pulling her hands away from her body, held her arms out to her sides—not exposing her, but steadying her.
“Hey,” Colter said quietly. “Your body isn’t something that happened to you.” His thumbs brushed the inside of her wrists. “It’s something you did that is incredible.”
He met her eyes, unflinching. “It carried a child. It protected her. It gave her life.” His voice softened. “That’s strength, Sutton. And there’s nothing more beautiful than a woman who’s lived in her body and come out stronger for it.”
The truth of it hit her harder than she expected. Not because she hadn’t known it, but because no one had ever said it to her like that—without pity, without qualification. Just fact. Just pride. And surprisingly, she let herself believe him.
“Every part of you tells a story,” he continued. “A story that takes my breath away. A story I want to be a part of.”
The words scared her more than she wanted to admit. Her story wasn’t neat or whole—it had gaps, sharp turns, chapters she’d skipped just to survive. Letting someone be part of it meant letting them see all of that. And yet… wasn’t this exactly what she’d wanted?
She looked up, breath caught as his thumbs brushed soothing circles over her wrists.
“You’re beautiful,” he said, like it was a fact, not an offhanded compliment. “All of you.”
Something in her chest cracked open. The kind of crack that let the light in. And standing there, held in his steady hands, seen without flinching, Sutton felt like the most beautiful woman on the planet.