I CHECK THE TIME on the hotel clock on the nightstand, the red neon numbers glowing 9:45pm. It’s not quite eight o’clock back in LA, and Sutter knew I’d be Face Timing him around this time, so the fact that he isn’t answering is cause for concern.
I’ve been filming in the Bayou for three weeks now, which means it’s been three weeks since I kissed him goodbye, three weeks since I felt the heat of his mouth and the flutter in my chest when he looked at me.
Seeing him on a five-inch phone screen isn’t the same.
My thumb hovers over the green button. I don’t want to keep calling. Our relationship is still so new and I don’t want to come across as some psychotic girlfriend who blows up his phone because she thinks she should be his number one priority.
He has his brother to look after. I wouldn’t dare demand sweet Tucker slides into second place for my sake. Never in a million years.
I sit my phone down and shuffle to the hotel bathroom, washing my makeup-caked face and brushing up for bed. The days are a little slower out here, but the five AM call time comes early.
When I’m done, I crawl into bed beside Murphy, situating us between the cool hotel sheets, and then I check my phone, hoping for a moment that I maybe missed a call …
But nothing.
Reaching across the nightstand, I click the button on the side of the lamp and the room goes dark.
It isn’t until my eyes are closed and I’m halfway to dreamland when I hear a knock at my door. I roll to my side. No one would have a reason—or at least a good reason—to bother me this time of night. We’re all exhausted, we’re all supposed to be resting up for the big scene tomorrow.
Sliding my hand under the pillow, I squeeze my eyes tight. Whoever’s at the door must have the wrong room number. They’ll figure it out and leave in a minute.
But the errant visitor knocks again.
And again.
The AC unit kicks on, filling the room with something that can only be described as a hybrid buzz and hum noise, the second-best sound to fall asleep to (second only to the thunderstorm app on my phone).
Exhaling, I fling the covers off, I make my way to the door, rising on my toes to glance through the peephole. The tiny blast of light stings my vision at first, and I step back to rub my eyes. When I take another look, I almost swear I’m dreaming.
This can’t be real.
“Sutter?” I say his name as I fumble with the deadbolt and chain lock in the dark. I yank the door open a second later and jump into his arms, nearly toppling him over.
He catches me, greeting me with a dimpled grin and my favorite sparkling hazel eyes.
The hotel room door slams behind us.
Shit.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, cupping his handsome face in my hand, almost as if to make sure he’s real. “This is insane. I thought you had court this morning?”
Since I left a few weeks ago, he’s been embroiled in a custody battle over his brother. I guess he tried to pursue this once before, many years ago, and his father made it impossible, refusing to give up any rights and always putting on a good show any time someone from the state came to investigate Tucker’s living situation.
Sutter wasn’t sure what to expect this time around, and he hasn’t been too vocal about any of it. I haven’t pressed. I figure if he wants to talk about it, he’ll talk about it. I’m sure it’s on his mind twenty-four seven. He doesn’t need me bringing it up, forcing him to rehash everything.
“We had a preliminary hearing this morning,” he says. His hands slide under my thighs and I wrap my legs around his sides. “So far, so good.”
“He’s not fighting it?”
Sutter’s eyes rest in mine, like he needs to take me in for a second, and then he shakes his head.
“I’m sorry.” I swat my hand. “You came all this way … We don’t have to talk about this. I just thought you had court today, so … seeing you here … in my hotel … I’m just in shock.”
I kiss him before he has a chance to respond, and his lips taste like spearmint and cherry Chap Stick.
Sliding down his sides, I don’t take my eyes off him for one second, irrationally sure that if I did, he’d disappear.
“We’re going to have to get a spare key from the lobby,” I say, nodding behind me toward the locked hotel room door. Sliding my hand into his, I’m prepared to lead him to the elevator so we can head downstairs, but his feet remain planted. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I stifle a chuckle as he takes me in like he’s seeing me for the first time again.
Sutter takes a step closer, narrowing the space between us, and he breathes me in.
“It’s been a long day, Melrose. A long week—a long three weeks.” He closes his beautiful eyes and exhales, pressing his forehead against mine for a moment. “It’s just really good to see you again.”
“Did you miss me?” I wink.
His mouth inches up at one side and his hand slides along my jaw. My heart catches in my throat the instant his lips graze mine.
“Like hell,” he says. “I missed you like hell.”
I want to ask him how long he’s staying and where his luggage is. I want to ask if he’ll visit again. I want to ask if he had this planned all along or if he spontaneously bought a ticket today after finishing court. I also want to ask where Tuck is, who’s caring after him … but all that matters in this moment is that he’s here.
Sutter kisses me again, his mouth hot and his body pinning mine against the wall. The outline of his hardness brushes against my hips and the hallway grows ten thousand degrees hotter.
It’s just us here, in our own little world (or at least it feels that way) and someone walking by or Snap Chatting our little make out session is the last thing on my mind.
But all those couldn’t-care-less thoughts come to a scrambling halt when the familiar sound of Murphy’s little black nails scratching at the door steal the show.
I peel myself off him. “We really need to get that key.”
He smiles, scratching at his temple and taking a step back. “Yeah.”
I drag him to the elevator and press the button for the lobby, never once releasing his hand from mine. But to be fair, he’s holding mine just as tight.
The second the doors close, he corners me, stealing another kiss. From my periphery, I catch glimpses of us in the mirrors that line the inside of the elevator. Watching us getting hands-y from all angles is kind of hot …
It isn’t until a woman clears her throat do we realize we’re no longer alone. We must have picked up another guest on one of the floors on the way down.
I lift my fingers to my swollen lips and exchange a bitten smirk with my boyfriend. The woman eyes us from the side, holding her nose high, and then promptly steps out of the elevator the second we’re deposited outside the lobby.
Padding across the marble floor in bare feet, I sheepishly make my way to the front desk.
“Locked out, Ms. Claiborne?” the clerk asks.
“Something like that.” I wink.
“One minute, please.” He squints as his long fingers tap the keyboard, and then he retrieves a plastic keycard from a drawer before scanning it. “There you are.”
“Thank you,” I mouth before spinning on my heel and returning to a grinning Sutter.
Within minutes, we’re back in my hotel room. I’m fighting off yawns and trying to ignore the fact that my phone alarm is set for four AM.
His hands tug at my pajama top, yanking it over my head. The clink of his belt buckle in the dark follows. I can’t see a thing, but I can feel everything.
His heat.
His hardness.
His heart as it thrums steady beneath my palm.
“God, I missed you,” he whispers into my ear. His words tickle and my lips curl into an enormous grin he’ll never get to see. “So fucking much.”
And then it happens.
The words …
They appear out of no where …
No warning, no nothing …
“I love you.” I blurt the words without an ounce of finesse, like they were eating away at my insides and I had to get them out as quickly as possible.
His hands, which were roaming my half naked body a moment ago, stop.
Oh, god …
My chest is frozen. I’m pretty sure I’m not breathing. And I’m pretty sure if he doesn’t say something in the next five seconds, I’m going to pass out from lack of oxygen and embarrassment.
“Melrose …”
I don’t like the way he says my name. I don’t like that it sounds like he’s about to drop some kind of truth bomb on me.
We stumble in the blackness until we find the bed, but he never lets me go. Pulling me into his lap, he hooks his hands along my sides.
“I’ve never said those words to anyone.” His admission is delivered with a heavy breath, a long sigh of sorts.
“You don’t have to—”
“—no,” he cuts me off. “Let me finish.”
“Okay …”
“I’ll be the first to admit, I don’t know what love is. I’ve never known it. Never received it. I don’t have anything to compare this to … this … thing we have. You and me.”
I say nothing as I’m glued to his every word.
Sutter clears his throat before continuing. “All I know is that what I feel when I’m with you, feels different than anything else I’ve ever felt in my life. And I can only assume that what this is …”
My heart pounds in my ears, the whooshing nearly drowning out his sweet confession. I want to bottle this moment. I want to wear it in a charm around my neck, keeping it near my heart always.
“I love you, Melrose,” he finally says. His fingertips skim my jaw and he guides my face closer to his. “Incoherent bullshit rambling aside, I guess that’s what I’m getting at.”
“It’s not incoherent bullshit rambling,” I say. “It’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard. Can you say it again? One more time?”
He doesn’t speak. Not with words. His hot mouth presses against mine, followed by the dancing of our tongues. When we come up for air, I need a moment to catch my breath. My entire body is lit, all that exhaustion from earlier just … gone. In its place is pure euphoria, and I’m never letting it go.
“I love you, Melrose,” he says again. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”