Sutton’s tongue slid along hers, searching, finding, taking, and Charlotte, driven by her need to touch Sutton’s soft, warm skin, hurriedly tugged Sutton’s shirt from where it was still neatly tucked into her jeans.
They sighed into each other’s mouths as she dug her nails into either side of Sutton’s spine before scratching down, using her grip to pull Sutton more intently against her.
She vaguely registered, as Sutton pushed her against the back of the door, a vibration coming from her jacket pocket as it pressed more intently against her thigh, trapped between herself and Sutton, given how closely Sutton held her.
One of Sutton’s hands slid down, using her thumb to press under Charlotte’s jaw, holding her in place. As if Charlotte wanted to leave. As if Charlotte didn’t want, more than anything, to exist in this moment.
As her phone vibrated yet again, signalling another phone call, Sutton hummed against her. A vibration that was much more pleasant.
Disappointment rolled through Charlotte as she lolled her head back against the door, breathing heavily.
“This wasyourdecision, I must remind you,” Sutton breathed, still so close that Charlotte could feel her speak as much as she could hear it.
Everythinginside of her yearned to lean into Sutton. Formore. To keep going, even as she knew—as her phone vibrated yet again—that the calls were coming from Hamish to inform her that he was outside of Sutton’s home, ready to take her to the airport.
She groaned, the sound as painful and pathetic aloud as it felt inside. “Iknow. Trust me, I know.”
As she felt Sutton’s hot breath on her mouth, she’d never wanted so badly to tell Hamish to go home. To forfeit her position in the world and all responsibilities that came with it so that she could stay right here.
The feeling was sovisceral, Charlotte swore she could cling to it.
“I have to go. Ihatethat I do, but…” She trailed off, closing her eyes on a quiet sigh.
“I know,” Sutton murmured, reaching up and stroking Charlotte’s hair behind her ear. The touch was light, and Charlotte still shivered from it.
Sutton’s blue eyes were so dark, so hungry for her, even as Sutton pulled back, putting some space between them. “I want you to know that everything you said to Layla was… it was beautiful. I don’t enjoy going back to that house, even though this place feels far more like home than that one ever did. But being there with you, knowing that you truly have my back is—it meant the world to me. I’m already looking forward to seeing you when you come back, before you’re even gone.”
The words and the earnest way Sutton said them made everything in Charlotte absolutely sing. For so long—months now—there had been a part of Sutton that was held back from her. She’d been able to feel it. That sweet, sentimental, wholehearted part of Sutton had been reserved, and Charlotte had wondered if she’d ever see it again.
She’d found that she was head over heels for Sutton, regardless, but god, having that back felt like something that was crucial and had been missing slid back into place inside of her.
Sutton bit her bottom lip, her eyes searching Charlotte’s before she whispered, “I—” She cut herself off, though, closing her eyes and shaking her head. “I hope you’ll call or text whenever you can.”
“It was already a plan,” Charlotte assured her, meaning it with every fiber of her being.
She was obsessed with talking to Sutton whenever she could. So much so that it would have been embarrassing had Charlotte, well, been embarrassed by it.
“I’ll see you soon,” she promised, already mentally calculating when she could be back from New York down to the hour. “And talk to you even sooner than that.”
Sutton ducked down and kissed her once more, this time brief and sweet, a promise of the future, before she pulled back.
“Goodbye, darling.”
“Bye, love,” Sutton echoed the sentiment as she opened the door for Charlotte.
As soon as she shut Sutton’s front door behind her, Charlotte saw that Hamish was, indeed, waiting for her. She waved at him, an apologetic—as apologetic as she could muster, anyway, given that she was late due to kissing Sutton—smile on her lips.
She’d only taken a step before she paused, replaying Sutton’s term of endearment in her mind.
She hadn’t registered it as soon as Sutton had said it, but now—thirty seconds later—she was.
Love.
She wasn’t sure Sutton had ever called her that. In fact, sheknewshe hadn’t.
“Don’t jump the gun, Thompson,” she muttered to herself, shaking her head as she started toward the steps. “She will get there when she gets there.”
The door behind her opened, and Charlotte paused again, turning around in surprise as Sutton stepped onto her small porch. She hadn’t put her jacket back on, and they could see her breath puffing in the night air.
