Page 100 of Now and Then

“Bullshit.”

Her tongue licks at the corner of her mouth, her eyes narrowing on me. I’m not trying to pick a fight with her, but I was also serious when I said I was done with not saying what we’re thinking and keeping things buried inside.

“It actually makes me sad.” She folds her hands in her lap.

Each word pierces my chest.

“And why’s that?” Hope bubbles to the surface, but I do my best to play it cool.

“Because I’ve gotten used to having you around.”

“And do you like having me around?” I hold my breath as I wait for her reply. Rain splatters against the windshield, making it almost impossible to see anything outside.

Her lips quirk to one side, and there are several seconds of silence as she fidgets with her fingers. Something flashes in her eyes as she blurts, “I like it. A lot actually. I didn’t think it would be this easy.”

I exhale loudly, all nervous anticipation leaving my body. “You know,” I say, “I don’t have to leave.”

Her lips tug into a sweet smile. “That might get weird when Mom gets home.”

She’s not wrong, but I’d do almost anything to make Sutton get out of her own way. Reaching forward, I fold her hands between my own. “When will your mom get back again?”

“Last I talked to her, she wasn’t sure. Living alone in a two-story house with a broken leg isn’t the easiest. My guess is Mom will stay with her sister a while longer than she originally anticipated.”

“If it’s okay with you, how about I stay with you until she comes home?”

She scoots closer to me. Her bent knee bumps into mine. As if it has a mind of its own, my hand sweeps up the expanse of her jean-clad thigh and grips around her hip. I don’t miss her body’s reaction to my touch—goosebumps pepper her arms, nipples barely visible under the fabric of her thin black sweater. All I want is to hold her in my arms.

I squeeze the flesh of her hip and pull. “C’mere,” I say.

She moves closer, throwing one leg over mine, and settles her weight on my lap. Sutton has a slight body, but it is pure strength. The weight of her on top of my lap is almost too much to handle. I wrap my hands around her waist, one coasting up her back to pull her to me. She braces her hands on my shoulders and sweeps them up the back of my head and into my hair.

“I think maybe”—Sutton dips her head to mine, stopping when her lips are a few centimeters from mine—“I’d like to try sleeping over at your place every now and then.”

Outside, thunder rumbles as wind rushes around the truck.

My heart rate accelerates at her words. “Do you—”

“I’m not moving in.” Her lips brush mine in a soft kiss.

I pull her to me, capturing her mouth again. Sutton’s lips are incredibly soft, the bottom so plump I can’t help but take it between my teeth and tug gently. This earns me a soft moan that I long to hear again.

I kiss the corner of her mouth, my hands spanning the width of her back, pulling her closer. Her chest presses against mine as she leans her head back, exposing her neck to me. I place open-mouthed kisses along her cheekbone, down to the corner of her jaw. Her hands tug at my hair, holding me to her.

Her pulse beats rapidly beneath her skin. I lick her pulse point and suck not so gently at her porcelain skin. It pulls a long, low moan from her.

“I love that sound,” I say between kisses down the slope of her collarbone.

My fingers dig into her shoulder blades, wishing her sweater wasn’t in the way. Sutton’s legs open wider and she presses more firmly against me, but not close enough, with the steering wheel taking up the space she would need to fully straddle me.

Kissing my way back to her lips, my hand dips beneath her sweater. Baby-soft skin meets the rough texture of my own palms, but the callouses don’t appear to phase her. Instead, my touch pulls yet another moan from her, and she buries her head against my neck.

When she kisses and sucks at my neck, I slip my hands further up her back, forcing them beneath her bra. She kisses the dip below my ear. Her warm breath coasts over my skin, and I almost lose focus.

“Hunt . . .” The hooks of her bra give way. She freezes, her lips resting on the flesh of my ear.

Her bra loosens from her body, the band snapping from my fingers and allowing me access to the full expanse of her back. My hands move up and over her shoulders, pulling her more firmly into my lap—steering wheel be damned. With one hand cupping the back of her neck, I take my other and gently trail it down her spine, over the curve of her hip, and up the side of her rib cage.

Sutton’s breathing slows, and she lays her head against the side of mine. It’s as if every ounce of tension disappears from her body, and she becomes putty in my hands. My thumb traces the side of her breast. She sighs in response. I freeze at the sound.