Chapter 8
CHAPTER 8
HADLEY
Brooks makes quick work of finishing his closing routine. Meanwhile, I sit back in my stool, watching. It’s been a while since I’ve been able to simply admire him.
Then, once the lock is flipped and the lights are shut off, he leads me up to his apartment.
His space is simple, but I really shouldn’t be surprised. His bedroom back at his mother’s house was always a little dishevelled, but he never had a ton of belongings to make a worthwhile mess. He wasn’t into material things—most of his money was spent doting on his family. And me.
The apartment consists of a small kitchen and an equally small living room, with a bedroom and bathroom attached at the back. It feels safe and warm, everything that Brooks embodied when we were together.
A small ache settles in my chest as I look around.
“It’s not much,” he says. Is that… embarrassment I sense? That’s new. “But Margaret lets me live here for free since I fixed it up, and I repair things around the bar when need be.”
I haven’t met Margaret, but I’ve heard plenty about the formidable bar owner. I find it hard to believe she’d possess a soft spot for Brooks, but if anyone could wear someone like her down, it would be him.
“It’s perfect,” I say, and I mean it. “Very you.” There’s even a small Christmas tree sitting in the corner. I point to it. “That’s cute.”
“Mom made me set it up the first year I lived here,” he explains. “Then she brought over all my childhood ornaments. She claimed I needed the holiday cheer. I think it was just an excuse to clean out her basement.”
I smile. That sounds like Michelle.
“Do you want anything? A drink?” he asks. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he looks nervous, which isn’t like him.
I shake my head. “I already had a drink.” I step closer. “Now I just want you.”
It feels good to finally say it aloud, and Brooks’s sharp intake of breath makes it even more gratifying. And then I let out my own gasp when his hand lands on my hip.
Memories from that day in the office play in my mind. Only this time, we won’t have to stop.
He looks down at me, studying something.
“What?” I ask.
He grins. “Your clothes. They’re just different from high school, is all. You dress like a librarian and a secretary had a baby.”
My eyes narrow. “Oh, no, Casanova, you are not about to She’s All That me,” I say, pressing an accusatory finger into his firm chest. “You can take me as I am or not at all.”
“You misunderstand me, Hadley. I like you all prim and proper.” His eyes trail from my head down to my feet and back up again. “Watching you come undone will be that much more satisfying.”
The way he’s looking at me makes my toes curl, but I also feel a little shy. Like I did the night we first slept together at seventeen. I’m a million times more self-assured than I was back then, but I would be lying if I said I’m not nervous .
Still, I want this. More than anything else right now. So I tug the clip from my hair and let the long strands frame my face.
“Make me,” I say. His gaze heats. “I want to come undone for you, Brooks.”
Damn, did that Fireball make me brave .
Our lips meet again, but this time, we don’t stop there. Brooks’s hands span my waist, drawing me closer. Pressing me against the strain in his jeans. I groan at the sensation.
“Bed?” he asks against my lips.
I nod.
His hands under my ass, my legs wrapped around his waist, he carries me back to his bedroom. My fingers tangle in the hair at his nape, tugging on it as our lips meld together once again.
Brooks sets me on my feet at the foot of his bed, and we break apart. I grab the hem of his shirt, tugging, and he obliges by slipping it over his head. I barely have time to appreciate the view of his chest before he’s tugging on my sweater dress, pulling it off. My leggings come next, and then I’m standing before him in my underwear and lacy bralette.
The intensity in his expression guides me backwards, the backs of my knees hitting the mattress. I lower myself, never breaking eye contact with Brooks as I lie back against the pillows.
He drinks me in slowly before he removes the rest of his clothing. Then he climbs on the bed, settling himself over me. My thighs fall apart, and he lowers into the cradle of my hips. God, I missed this . His presence, his weight on top of me… I crave it.
Brooks works his way down my body. He blazes a trail of kisses from my neck to my collarbone to my breasts. Then, through the sheer fabric of my bralette, he takes one of my nipples into his mouth. He sucks on it, swirling his tongue around the peak. Then he switches to the other side, repeating the action.
I wiggle beneath him. “Brooks,” I whine.
He chuckles, and I feel it against my skin. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had my hands on you, Hads. I need to reacquaint myself. ”
“Reacquaint yourself faster, then!”
My request is promptly denied as he continues to take his sweet time, teasing me with kisses. His tongue traces the edge of my bralette where it sits on the swell of my breast, and then finally , he reaches behind me to unclasp it.
I tear the material from my body and fling it across the room. This causes a smirk to settle on his lips.
“Still as eager as ever, I see,” he muses. His eyes darken as they settle on my bare chest.
“Still as mean as ever, I see,” I snap.
He raises a brow. “We tried that once, remember? If I recall, you didn’t like it much.” He leans down, lips finding my ear. “Have your tastes changed since you’ve been gone, Hads? Want me to call you a filthy fucking slut? Because I can. I’ll do whatever you want me to.”
He pulls back, studying my face.
My lips purse as I shake my head. “No, I don’t.”
“No, you don’t. Because you’re not a dirty whore, are you? No, you’re the best fucking girl, and you like to be validated. Praised. You gonna let me do that, sweetheart? Let me take my time with you?”
My fingers curl into the sheets. “ Yes .”
He continues his path downwards, his breath ghosting over my exposed abdomen. Goosebumps pebble my skin, but not from the cold—it’s surprisingly warm in Brooks’s apartment. He presses his lips to my stomach once, twice.
Then he stops at the piercing on my navel. “This is new,” he says, gaze flicking up to mine.
“It was a dare,” I say. One of the few nights I had gone out during university, I had come home with a fresh piercing.
He studies the jewellery for a moment, then nods. “I like it.”
The tip of his tongue traces the band of my lacy underwear. I squirm, needing for him to reach my aching core. It’s been a while since I’ve had any relief, solo or otherwise, and I’m not afraid to admit I’m desperate .
“What do you need, Hadley?” Brooks asks. His fingers skim the insides of my thighs. “My tongue or my fingers?”
My hand finds his head, and I tug on his hair. “ Both .”
He grins. “That’s my girl.”
I grow wetter at the praise. More desperate for him. He knows it, too, based on the self-satisfied expression he wears.
Brooks sits back on his heels and tugs my underwear down my thighs, then tosses them to the floor. I fist the sheets on either side of my hips as I resist the urge to close my legs. My cheeks heat as he continues to drink his fill.
“You’re more beautiful than I remember,” he says, and my heart squeezes at the reverence in his tone.
“Brooks,” I whisper.
When he settles between my thighs again, I hold my breath. The first pass of his tongue has me releasing that breath in a gasp. Then he slips a finger inside me, and I bite my lip to stifle any noises I might make.
That plan goes out the window when he hooks the digit. I let out a slightly embarrassing whimper as I thread my fingers through his hair, urging him to continue. He obliges, working on my clit with his mouth while he pumps his finger inside me.
And just when I can feel that familiar pressure building in my core, he pulls away.
My eyes shoot open. “Hey,” I whine.
Brooks only grins. In response, I frown. But my confusion grows when he flips around, sitting back against the headboard. He beckons me toward him.
I sit up and turn, leaning back on my heels, staring at him. “You remembered?”
“Of course I did.” He grabs my hand. “Now come here.”
I crawl forward until I can settle myself on his lap, legs straddling his hips.
When we were younger, we experimented a lot . It helped having divorced parents—one of their houses was almost always empty when we needed it. Of all the positions we tried, this one got me there the easiest. And he remembered .
My heart squeezes with affection, and I can’t help leaning forward to connect my lips to his. Brooks meets me eagerly, a hand on my jaw.
If I forget everything outside this moment, it feels like it did before. Like I never left. And in moments like these, I sometimes wish that were true.
Brooks reaches out and opens the drawer of his nightstand. He feels around for a minute before he comes out with a condom. He holds it up between us.
“This is all I’ve got,” he says. “It’s, uh, been a while.”
I nod. “For me, too,” I admit. “So we’ll just have to make it good.”
He kisses me again, and then he tears open the condom and rolls it on. With one of my hands braced on his chest, I reach the other one between us and take hold of his cock. I line him up with my entrance, and then we both watch as I sink down onto the first inch.
Brooks groans. “Fuck, Hadley, you feel so damn good.”
This . I had missed this. I haven’t exactly been celibate over our time apart, but no one that I’ve been with has given me this sense of comforting familiarity.
My lips part on a small moan as I lower the rest of the way. We both still as I take a moment to adjust to him, and then we move. I rise up and lower down, hands braced on Brooks’s chest.
He reaches out and presses his thumb against my clit, giving me the extra stimulation I need. I can feel my orgasm building back up. He left me on the edge before, and now I’m almost to the point of tipping over.
“Fuck me, Brooks,” I beg.
He doesn’t need any convincing. Brooks takes hold of my hips, his grip punishing, and slams into me. I gasp as his cock hits something inside me just right, and I see stars.
I throw my head back, and my eyes squeeze shut, as my orgasm rocks through me. I bite my lip to stifle my cry, but it comes out anyway when I feel Brooks settle his thumb over my clit again and start to press down, circling the sensitive bud.
With a groan, he follows after me, and we both ride the aftershocks of our orgasms.
“So good,” I murmur, leaning against his chest.
He takes my chin and plants a quick kiss to my lips.
“The best,” he says. He meets my gaze, his eyes bright. “I forgot how perfect we feel together.”
I smile, though something twists painfully in my heart. I choose to ignore it.
“Need another reminder?” I ask, eyes trailing down his body. There are plenty of other things we can do without a condom.
He nods. “Please. It would help jog my memory.”
With a laugh, I kiss him. And then I remind him, again and again.