“You hurt me.”
“Another truth,” I exhale.
Then before I know what’s happening, my mouth is against hers. I don’t know who kisses who first, but I know who is going to control it. Lifting my hand, I twist my fingers in her hair and tilt her head to the side. Sliding my tongue into her warm mouth, I’m sent straight to fucking heaven as I consume her.
She tastes better than I remembered and I’ve thought about her kisses for a long fucking time throughout my life.
She jerks her head away from me, but I don’t let her go. Holding her close to me, I dip my chin and place my forehead against hers.
“Goddamn, Hutton. You been practicin’, babe. Don’t remember you kissin’ that good back in the day,” I breathe.
She pushes away from me again, this time I allow her to take a step back. Her breath is coming out in pants, her nipples so goddamn hard and tempting that it is taking all of my willpower not to strip her right here, right now.
“You’re a complete jerk, Beaumont,” she seethes.
“Yeah,” I snort.
Without another word, she spins around and stomps out of the room, slamming the door behind her. I allow it. I do because tomorrow morning I’m going to need a haircut and she’s the only person I’m going to allow to touch my hair.
Fuck me.
I want Hutton Baker.
She’s the one that got away and she’s practically been hand-delivered to me. I’m going to accept the challenge that is her.
HUTTON
“Where is Laurie? Where’s my ride?” I snottily demand as I step out of Beaumont’s dressing room, my breath coming out in short puffs.
Ford’s eyes meet mine and I watch him smirk. Obviously, he thinks all of this is just as funny as can be. I don’t. Not a single bit. I’m lightheaded, fool-hearted, and turned on. I hate that I want him and that I allowed him to kiss me, that I kissed him back—that I want him.
“I’ll take you home,” Ford announces. I shake my head, looking around the hall for Laurie or any of the other girls. “They all left,” Ford says.
Gulping, I lift my gaze to his. “Ford…”
He shakes his head, pushing off of the wall he’d been leaning against, taking a step toward me. “Hutton, if I thought any part of you were available, I’d slide right in there. I know it ain’t.”
“It isn’t?” I breathe.
He snorts. “Figured it out all those years ago, honey. I get it, probably more than you even realize.” I blink up at him, completely confused by his words. His lips tip into a smirk. “You’re cute as fuck, Hutton. But you’re also so into Beau that it wouldn’t be fair to either of us or him to pretend otherwise.”
I open my mouth to tell him that he’s wrong, to deny his claim, but even I can’t pretend that I’m not into Beaumont. I can’t pretend that our relationship didn’t mark me in a way that even after nine years it still feels like a fresh wound. I’m just not sure that I’m into him the way that Ford thinks, or I’m just in need of closure.
“Let’s get you home,” he murmurs.
Sitting next to him in his truck, I bite the inside of my cheek as he drives me home. My mind isn’t on Ford, even though he’s silently sitting next to me, just like he was six years ago and in the same position. Instead, it’s on Beaumont. No matter how many years pass, I still want him.
It’s the lack of closure. I nod to myself, my decision made. I’m going to talk to him, make sure we both get the closure that we need. I’m not going to allow him to kiss me anymore. I’m going to demand he goes away, leaves me alone, and that we both move on with our lives.
I snort, I don’t know why I would tell him to move on with his life, I think that he has without issue. I’ve seen him with movie stars, models, and other artists.
He’s moved on just fine, it’s just me who hasn’t. Pathetic little shy, introverted, awkward Hutton who hasn’t been able to get over him in the past nine years.
“Let me walk you in,” Ford offers.
I blink, looking to the left and seeing that he’s pulled up in front of my house. I had completely zoned the entire time he drove from the bar to my place. Shaking my head, I reach for the truck door handle.
“I’m okay, thank you though.” I smile.
He reaches toward me, his warm, calloused hand wrapping around my forearm. “Whatever you’re strugglin’ with, Hutton, it’ll work out.”
I shake my head, my eyes shifting down to my lap, then lifting to meet his. “How? How do you get over someone that you only spent a year with almost a decade ago? He should not affect me the way that he does. What is wrong with me?”
Ford dips his chin, his eyes focused on mine and never leaving. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with you, honey. Having feelings for someone and getting over them, there’s no timestamp on that.”
“You speak from experience?” I guess.
He nods once. “Wyatt’s been there, I’ve been there, hell I think we all have at one time or another. Ride this out with him, maybe nothing will come of it, maybe somethin’ good will happen. I know that he’s been in a real bad place for a long time and hiding it from everyone, includin’ himself.”
My heart softens slightly at Ford’s words. I don’t know what Beaumont has been up to the past decade, but I do know that my heart still hurts from the way that he used me.
At the least, I deserve an apology from him. Maybe then I’ll feel like I can move on with my love life. Maybe I’ll be able to get over him. Though, with as long as it’s been, maybe there’s just no getting over the first love of your life.
Chapter Seven
HUTTON
Bringing my coffee to my lips, I take a huge gulp, trying to ignore the way it burns going down my throat. I need something to wake me up, and if it’s hot coffee scalding my esophagus, then so be it.
Powering on my laptop, I sit down at my small desk and open my calendar so that I can look at my appointments for the day. My morning is open, but as soon as one o’clock comes around, I’m going to be slammed.
Biting the corner of my lip, I wonder how I’m going to get through this morning with no clients. I was hoping for a distraction. I tossed and turned all night long, my mind filled with nothing but thoughts, memories, and even fantasies about Beaumont.
Frowning, I write down my schedule for the rest of the day and decide to pull each of my client’s charts and gather their color formulas. The task will keep me busy for a whole ten minutes, at the most.
The bell above the door rings and I glance up to see Laurie waltzing through, her large glasses covering her eyes and half of her face. She has a coffee in one hand and her purse hanging off of her other arm.
“Don’t talk to me,” she groans.
“Hungover?”
“Ssshh.”
I can’t help but giggle at her. She was so drunk last night, the way she confronted Beaumont, while at the time wasn’t funny, afterward I thought it was hilarious. He deserved to have an even bigger tongue lashing, but it was still awesome.