Chapter 42
Bath time had wiped out the last of Lynlee’s energy.
Now she was tucked into a queen-size guest bed, swallowed whole by one of Colter’s soft cotton T-shirts with a faded University of California Davis written across the chest, and sleeves hanging past her elbows.
She looked like a baby bird nesting in a pile of borrowed fabric.
Sutton wasn’t much better in her own oversized loaner—the shirt draped down to mid-thigh, smelling faintly of detergent and some woodsy aftershave that made her hormones misbehave.
She smoothed damp curls off Lynlee’s forehead. “Special day, huh?”
Lynlee nodded, eyelids drooping. “My favoritest part was da horse ride with Colter.”
Of course it was.
“Yeah? You liked that?”
“He held me so I wouldn’t fall,” Lynlee said, voice syrup-thick with sleep. “And he said I was brave and that Posey would be proud. And he’s comin’ to my play.”
That one pierced.
“That was very nice of him.”
Lynlee hummed in sleepy agreement. “I love him.”
Sutton’s heart tripped. Kids handed out love like stickers—but still. Hearing it was a whole different weight.
She kissed Lynlee’s temple. “He’s easy to love.”
A tiny yawn. “Mommy?”
“Mm?”
“You had fun too?”
Sutton hesitated because fun wasn’t the word.
Her favorite part hadn’t been the ponies or cupcakes. It was the stolen moments—glances over ice buckets, the warm scrape of his eyes against hers, the way his smile kept sneaking out like he didn’t mean to show it.
It was noticing him notice her. Again and again and again.
She brushed her hand along Lynlee’s back. “Yeah, pumpkin. I had fun too.”
Lynlee nodded once, then went fully boneless, asleep in an instant—just a tiny breathing bundle wrapped in borrowed cotton and cowboy magic.
Sutton lingered another beat, watching her daughter exhale peace. Then she turned toward the hallway—toward the awareness waiting in the next door.
There were three guestrooms and yet Lady Rea and Vivi had made up the one next to Colter’s bedroom. It was a setup, plain and simple. They were plotting against her.
She closed Lynlee’s door with a soft click, dim hallway light spilling across her bare knees and the hem of Colter’s T-shirt. The ranch was quiet—kids gone, parents gone, Eli in the bunkhouse, Boone and Vivi somewhere downstairs raiding the leftover queso.
Sutton leaned against the door for a breath, pressing a palm flat over her chest.
Guilt clawed up first.
She needed to tell him about Lynlee’s conception. About how that sweet, sleeping five-year-old was his. He deserved the truth now, before this went any further. No matter what the outcome for Sutton, he deserved to know the truth and Lynlee deserved to know him as her father.
That was, if he wanted to be a part of her life like that.
You know he does, Sutton’s gut said. Hell, he already acted more like a parent than most dads do.
She took a shaky breath and walked down the hall, rehearsing sentences she hated:
You don’t know what you’re walking into but you deserve a choice.
I never meant to hide anything from—
She clicked the door shut—and there he was. Leaning against the doorframe of the room across from hers in bare feet, boxer-briefs and arms crossed, as if he’d been waiting.
Her stomach flipped.
“Colter,” she started, voice small but steady. “There’s something you need to hear. Something I should’ve told you a long time ago—about Lynlee’s father. Or lack of one. I should—”
She didn’t get to finish.
Because Colter pushed off the wall in one decisive step, caught her by the waist, and drew her into him. His forehead dropped to hers, breath warm, voice rough.
“No talking,” he murmured. “No apologies. I’ve been waiting all damn day to get my hands on you.”
Her pulse tripped hard. “But we need to talk—”
He cut her off, but not with words—with a kiss that landed soft first, like he was asking permission, then deeper when she answered him back. He cupped her face like he’d been imagining the shape of it in his palms since sunrise.
When he finally pulled back, his thumb grazed her lower lip.
“That’s all I wanted,” he said, voice low. “Just to touch you again. To know today was as special to you as it was me.”
Sutton closed her eyes, an exhale shivering out of her. Her truth could wait one more breath.
Because right now—she was being seen. Being chosen and being wanted and she could no longer deny that he’d worked his way into her heart.
“Today was perfect.”
Perfect didn’t touch it. Her tongue in his mouth felt like sin wrapped in invitation.
It took him about two breaths—and a gentle nip at his lower lip—to understand that while he’d been bracing for her to say that the other night was a one-time thing, Sutton Rose, queen of boundaries and emotional seatbelts, had curled herself into him like she’d stopped bracing for impact.
If that wasn’t a green light, the way she slid a hand into his hair and pulled his mouth down to hers sure as hell was.
And it wasn’t some polite, PG-13 good-night kiss, either.
Nope. This was a melt-the-paint, take-no-prisoners, I-want-to-fuck-you kind of kiss that erased every kiss he’d ever shared with someone else and told him exactly where things were going if he didn’t screw this up.
Right then, Colter made a decision. He’d follow this woman wherever she led.
No disclaimers. No exit plan.
He’d spent years keeping people at a safe distance, convincing himself attachments were optional, and temporary was easier. But this wasn’t just anyone.
This was a woman, who’d never had a parachute a day in her life and didn’t look like she wanted one now. She just wrapped her arms around his neck, ready to free-fall like gravity was a suggestion. And damned if that didn’t make him want to jump with her.
She shifted, deepening the kiss, and a soft sound escaped her—relief, maybe or finality. He didn’t know. But his hands were already memorizing the lines of her back, the curve of her hips, anchoring her like he was afraid she’d vanish if he didn’t hold on.
Was he terrified? Absolutely.
Was he hooked? No question.
If this was what happened when two adults finally talked instead of running, he was about to become a valedictorian of communication.
Maybe even sign up for one of those relationship workshops Vivi kept threatening him with.
Because this—this fire-and-honesty collision—was the best exchange Colter had ever had.
It was intense and overdue, like it was heading straight toward something that felt suspiciously like a future.
He dragged his mouth from hers just long enough to breathe and whispered against her skin, “You better get inside before we’re caught out here like a couple of high schoolers sneaking into my bedroom.”
“Maybe that’s what I’m doing,” she murmured, and then, with a little hop, she wrapped her legs around his waist like she had every intention of being carried.
He caught her easily, hands palming her silk-clad ass as he walked her toward the bed, every step a promise.
They never broke contact—mouths fused, breath shared, kissing all the way to the mattress like letting go might ruin them. He lowered her onto her back, but her legs never unlocked, ankles still crossed behind him like she was keeping him exactly where she wanted.
She tightened, thighs flexing, and the press of her body ground right against his dick, dragging a rough sound out of him.
“Freckles,” he warned on a breath. “Much more of that and I’m going to forget every sensible thought I’ve had all day.”
Her voice came out low and sure, no hesitation anywhere. “Good, I’m tired of sensible thoughts.”
He pulled back just enough to see her eyes, which were hungry and daring—more like mischievous—and it punched right through him.
“I no longer want to be a man of half-measures when it comes to you,” he murmured.
She squeezed again and—bingo—he was going to come and he hadn’t even taken his briefs off.
“If this is half, I’m not sure I can handle the whole shebang.”
Colter grinned. “You’ll handle it just fine.”
“That so?”
“Yeah, because I’m not stopping until you’re shaking and telling me you can’t take another inch. And then I’m giving you one more just to hear you whimper.”
Her answering laugh was slow and dark—like she’d been handed a weapon and couldn’t wait to use it. “You talk a big game for a man who’s two seconds from losing it in his underwear.”
He swallowed, because she wasn’t wrong. “Maybe I just like the way you make me lose it.”
“Maybe you need to lose it.”
He dragged a hand down her thigh, voice strained. “Let me see you, Freckles. Please.”
She cocked her head, amused. “Begging already?”
“Yeah,” he said without shame, because pride had officially left the building. “I want to see all of you. I want to earn it.”
For a beat, she just studied him—like she was deciding whether he’d behaved well enough. Then, without a word, she lifted her arms in silent invitation.
“You may,” she said sternly, like some fucking high school principal and he was her errant student.
Hell, she could be his teacher any day.
She wasn’t wearing much—just a whisper of fabric pretending to be a thong, silk-smooth skin everywhere he looked, and a pair of perfect tens that short-circuited his brain. He actually had to blink, twice, like processing her was a full-time job.
“Speechless?” she asked, satisfied.
“You’re gonna have to give me a damn minute.”
“Oh no,” she said, curling a finger and beckoning him closer. “You begged for a look. Now you work for the rest.”
“Then you might want to hang on to something, Freckles,” he murmured, voice all gravel and promise. “Because I’m about to prove exactly how hard of a worker I am. I’ll break you open so deep you won’t ever get me out of your system—even if you wanted to.”
“Talk’s cheap. Prove me wrong.”
He didn’t bother with another word. He just lowered his head and dragged his tongue straight up her center. One slow, possessive lick and her head thunked back against the mattress with a choked sound.