Page 63 of Now and Then

“I thought you hated cop shows?” she says, breath warm against my thigh.

I run my fingers through her hair, then twist a strand around my finger. I hadn’t kept track of how long she’d been asleep or how many episodes I’d watched until Netflix’s Are you still watching? message popped up, and I realized my ass was completely numb. “Turns out, this one is not horrible.”

“Excuse me, sir,” she says, lifting her face slightly to look at the TV. “You watched almost the entire season without me?” She flops her head down and groans. “You broke the cardinal rule of Netflix and chill.”

I playfully squeeze her hip. “I’m not sure that means what you think it does.”

She snorts. “We’re chilling and watching Netflix, what else would it mean?”

I ignore her question as the show restarts. Sutton doesn’t say anything else, but I know she’s awake. My thumb lazily rubs circles along the baby-soft skin of her exposed midriff.

I pause for half a second, waiting for her to tense.

She doesn’t.

If anything, she presses closer.

“That feels good,” she whispers.

My fingers drift higher, slower. Testing. Waiting. Sutton wraps her hand under my thigh, eyes locked on the screen. When I slip my fingers beneath the edge of her leggings she doesn’t stop me.

“Sutton? Do you want—”

“Yes,” she blurts.

I laugh. “I haven’t asked you anything yet.”

“Yeah, well, whatever you’re about to ask, the answer is yes.”

My hand stills. “You’re sure?”

She rolls onto her back. Her gaze finds mine, and I drag my fingers through her hair and fan it around her head. She looks like a siren.

“Yes and no,” she says.

“That clears things up,” I say with a perked eyebrow. “Explain.”

“No, I’m not sure, because what if we do this and we fuck it all up and I lose you.” She releases a heavy breath and looks at the ceiling.

I don’t say anything, hoping to force her to string together all the thoughts likely spinning in her mind.

“But,” she says, her eyes locking with mine. “I can’t deny we have this connection. And I—” She starts to look away again, but I shake my head, silently urging her to hold my gaze.

My heart pounds.

She’s either about to shatter it or make it whole.

She takes another deep breath, her cheeks puffing out as she exhales, and says, clear and steady, “I want you too much not to explore whatever this is.”

Her words hang in the air between us.

My pulse thrums in my ears, drowning out everything. I want to close the distance between us, but I can’t. Not yet. I have to do this right.

“Once we cross this line,” I say, “there’s no going back.”

Her cheeks flame a deep crimson, and she nods. “I think I might be okay with that.”

“Might be?”