She lifts her head, stopping, staring at me from across the room. Her shoulders relaxing with the breath she expels.
“I only wanted to have sex with you. That’s it. But the more time we spent together, the less I thought about what I wanted. And you, your entire argument was you wanted us to know each other before that happened. To really know each other, right? But you knew me when we went camping. You knew me then, Mason, didn’t you?”
I think about how close I felt to Brooke that weekend, including during her unfortunate tick encounter and the mess that followed. Our talk in the tent before we crashed that first night, and our adventure together the next day.
She’s right. I knew her. Well enough to take things where we both wanted.
“Yeah,” I reply, nodding.
There’s no point in lying about this.
“And you didn’t give in. You didn’t take me that weekend.”
She doesn’t allow me to respond. I don’t really need to anyway. We were both there.
“That’s not all you were waiting for,” she concludes with a keen arch of her brow.
“No.”
“This was never just about us knowing each other.”
“No.”
Shaking her head through a tight laugh, she takes one last swig of the tequila before setting it on the window ledge. “Who else?” she asks quietly, facing away from me.
I know what she means. I don’t need to ask for clarification on this.
When all of this started with Brooke, I told her I didn’t do a meaningless fuck anymore, but I never told her I didn’t plead for this with anyone else. Or that I never wanted it this bad with someone before.
“No one,” I confess.
I see the quick jerk of her head. I hear her mutter something that sounds an awful lot like “good.” Her voice sounding slightly pacified.
Spinning around, with a steadiness in her eyes, she holds her hands out in front of her. “Well, you did it. Congratulations.”
My eyebrows draw together. I search her face for understanding.
She sighs, staring me down. “I love you, you fucking perfect bastard. You got what you wanted. I’m completely and absolutely in love with you and your little ‘yeahs.’ They kill me. And for the record, I’m pretty sure I loved you that night in the tent so,” she waves her hand. “Opportunity missed. You totally could’ve fucked a cheerleader.”
I feel my lips part, a rush of fervency pitting in the center of my chest and blooming there.
She loves me. My Brooke . . . fuck. Finally.
With a quick exhale, she runs her hands down her face, pressing her palms flat to her cheeks. “Holy shit. Wow. That’s what it feels like to say it.” She blinks, her teeth gnawing at her lip. “Wow,” she whispers.
I cross the room in quick strides, grabbing her face and kissing her harshly. She moans and melts in my arms. The bitter scratch of tequila bursts in my mouth.
“You make me feel crazy,” I tell her.
“Good. You fucking deserve it. I only wanted sex, and now I’m completely screwed. I have no idea what to do with this, you jerk.”
I laugh, taking her mouth again. My tongue moving against hers. My hands roaming down her back and cupping her arse.
“Should I have told you my intentions? Would you have agreed to this if I did?”
“I don’t know.”
We stare at each other. Brooke frowns, her hand flattening to my chest.
“I love how this happened, Mason. How you got me here. I wouldn’t want to change any of that. You made falling in love with you so easy, I didn’t realize I was doing it until it was too late. I think if you would’ve given me a heads up about it happening I might’ve told you to fuck off, and I don’t want to imagine not knowing you. You’re my best friend.” She stands on her toes and kisses me. “And I’m yours, I think.”
Sighing, I crush her against me. “You’re mine. Fuck, you’re everything, Brooke. Tell me again.”
“I love you.” She squeezes my neck, sucking on my lip. “I love you, and I’m not scared. I’m not. Just don’t let go of me, okay?”