“It is,” she confirmed, defensive yet confident. “And if that’s going to be a problem for you, then we’ll have to sort that out.”
She wondered if Layla would dare to mention anything about their custody arrangement again, like she had the night she’d found out about Charlotte. It had been shocking to hear because Sutton had assumed that both she and Layla knew where Lucy garnered the most stability between the two of them, given that they’d never had to argue about it aloud. Sutton being named the primary parent in their divorce had been silently understood and was never once debated.
And while she didn’t have any concern that Layla could have the ability to change their arrangement, even if they went back to their lawyers about it—today’s situation was just the latest example that Sutton could reference as to why Layla being Lucy’s primary parent would never work—she didn’t want to experience the drain on time, energy, and resources. Not when they’d finally found a cordial co-parenting situation in the last few years.
“No,” Layla finally said, her voice tight as she shook her head. “It isn’t going to be aproblemas long as you’re certain you know what you’re doing.”
“I don’t need your seal of approval as towhat I’m doing,” Sutton shot back, uncharacteristically sharply at the remark. “When it comes to Lucy, I’d like to think you know I will always put her first.”
That muscle in Layla’s jaw twitched again before she sighed. “Yes. I do.”
“Good. If that’s all, I’ll be going. Have a good weekend.”
Layla cleared her throat as Sutton started to turn away. “Sutton, I…”
She paused, throwing Layla a look over her shoulder. When Layla didn’t immediately speak—and when Sutton didn’t immediately understand the expression on her face—she turned more completely to look at her. “Yes?”
Layla cleared her throat. “Nothing. You have a”—her gaze drifted to Charlotte once more, and she pursed her lips—“good weekend as well.”
Sutton nodded, her gaze drifting to Charlotte as she unthinkingly murmured, “I will.”
Even though Suttonhadn’t necessarilyplannedto jump Charlotte as soon as they’d entered Charlotte’s home, it was exactly what happened.
It had started as Charlotte had been shutting the door behind them, as she’d spoken, “We can go out for dinner if you want, or?—”
Anything else she’d been intending to say had fallen right back down her throat as Sutton had reached out and grabbed Charlotte’s hips, pushing her back and lowering her mouth down onto Charlotte’s.
She didn’t care about dinner. She didn’t care about anything that wasn’tCharlottein this moment.
Every emotion she’d had to quell throughout the afternoon, due to Lucy’s presence, seemed to hit her in that moment.
Her heart felt so full, and those bird-butterflies were in full swing, and Charlotte had been there for both her and Lucy, and those things made Sutton feel so many grand, sweeping feelings.
They combined into a baffling, intensedesire. Maybe it was that her sexual desire—especially for Charlotte—and emotions were linked.
But she’d been animalistically attracted to Charlotte since first laying eyes on her, and this version of Charlotte was even more devastatingly appealing.
She’d pinned Charlotte against her closed door easily, holding her in place with her hips as her hands busily tugging Charlotte’s jacket off.
Charlotte had easily matched her pace, her mouth hot and answering every demand Sutton had for her, in spite of her obvious surprise. She’d dropped her bag to the ground with athunkthat Sutton had barely registered before she’d wrapped her arms around Sutton’s neck and pulled her down, securing Sutton against her.
That had been… god, Sutton didn’t even know how long ago, by this point.
By this point, they sat on the couch in Charlotte’s living room. They’d wandered in here, not breaking their kiss, after they’d stripped one another of their winter outerwear. Hands had been wandering, and she’d breathlessly, hoarsely giggled against Charlotte’s lips when they’d bumped into her coffee table before finally landing on the sofa.
Sutton supposedsittingwas not an apt term for herself.
Charlotte was sitting.
Sutton was straddling her lap, knees tightly bracketing Charlotte’s hips.
She swallowed every keening moan that worked out of Charlotte as Sutton slid her tongue over hers. She couldn’t seem to still her hands, not that she was trying to.
She wanted to touch everywhere; she wanted to touch all of Charlotte’s soft, wavy hair, clenching it in her hands, scratching against her scalp. She loved the way it made Charlotte gasp, then arch into her.
She wanted to touch Charlotte’s breasts as she strained her torso up against Sutton’s. She’d done that, too, dipping under the cups of Charlotte’s bra, feeling how hard her nipples were.
She wanted to trace her hands over Charlotte’s silhouette, the curves of her waist, outlining the whole of her.
