Chapter 36 Five Days too Long…
Five Days too Long…
I couldn't wait to get Brooke home, my home. Hopefully, soon our home. It had been five agonizingly long days, and I'd missed her more than I'd ever like to admit out loud. All I could think about was her heated skin against mine. Her lips on mine. Her body on mine.
I pulled her through the entrance, fingers intertwined, and before the door clicked shut, drew her close. The space between us hummed with five days' worth of unsaid things, promises, and confessions that refused to wait longer.
"I missed you," I whispered, voice rough with emotion as I leaned down, breath warm against her skin. My hands found her waist, anchoring her to me.
"Yeah?" She looked up at me with that smile that made my heart race, her hands sliding up my chest. "How much?"
My lips curved into a grin. "Words couldn't do it justice."
"No?"
"No," I murmured, forehead touching hers. "I need to show you."
She kissed me hard. No hesitation. No gentleness.
Just hunger, devouring my lips and tongue like she'd been starving too.
I grabbed her thighs and lifted. She gasped against my mouth, that small, perfect sound, and wrapped her legs around my waist. The fabric of her dress surrendered, hiking up her thighs.
Sucking her bottom lip between my teeth, I carried her through the foyer, past the living room, up a flight of stairs to my bedroom. I wanted to close the door and not open it for a week. I wanted to make up for every minute I'd missed her. It was completely unrealistic, but I didn't care.
She broke from the kiss as I set her on the edge of my bed. The mattress dipped beneath her weight. My hands lingered on her waist, reluctant to let go. We stayed like that, not touching, not speaking, just looking.
Her chest rose and fell with each breath. Those blue eyes, the ones haunting my dreams for five nights, held mine. A question in them. A challenge. Need, yes, but something deeper too. Something that made my heart slam against my ribs.
She reached out, fingers stopping just at the hem of my shirt.
A pause, her eyes asking permission, though she needed none.
My breath caught as her hands finally slid underneath.
My abs tightened at the feeling of her warm fingertips gliding along my skin, feather-light.
She guided my shirt upward, her touch disappearing momentarily as I finished pulling it off, the fabric sailing forgotten to the floor.
"I really did miss you."
I leaned down, dragging my lips across her cheek, stopping at her ear.
My heart was hammering so loudly I was certain she could hear it.
"Tell me you're mine," I whispered, vulnerability raw in my voice.
I pressed my lips to the spot just below her ear, feeling her pulse jump beneath my touch.
"Tell me I'm yours." The words were a prayer, a plea.
I slowly kissed down her neck, each touch a promise.
Her body trembled against mine as she released a soft whimper.
I needed to hear her say she was mine. The pain of almost losing her was still so raw, but she was here now, and I wanted to spend the rest of my life making her happy and proving myself worthy of her.
"I'm all yours and you're all mine."
For a moment, we just stared at each other, the weight of her words settling between us. 'I'm all yours and you're all mine.' I'd waited five days to hear those words, but now that she'd said them, they felt too precious, too fragile.
"Say it again," I whispered, my voice barely audible.
Her lips curved into the softest smile. "I'm yours, Matt. Completely."
Something inside my chest cracked open. I captured her mouth with mine, but this kiss was different, slower, deeper, like I was trying to memorize the taste of her promise.
I slid my hands up her thighs, the contact sending electricity through my fingertips. When I reached the lace edge of her panties, I paused. Waited. Letting the anticipation build between us.
Her eyes never left mine as she slowly pulled her feet up to the mattress and lifted her hips in a silent invitation.
I dragged her panties down her legs with excruciating slowness, fighting every instinct that screamed at me to rush. Five days without her had taught me something about patience, about savoring what might be taken away.
She leaned back on her hands. Then she spread her legs with such calculated precision that my carefully constructed restraint nearly shattered.
"Fuck, Brooke." The words escaped on a ragged exhale.
Her voice, when it came, was barely above a whisper, but it hit me with the force of a shout: "Fuck me like I belong to you."
My dick throbbed behind the denim of my jeans, desperate for release.
My phone vibrated in my pocket, once, twice. The real world was intruding. I nearly growled, ignoring it. Nothing existed outside this room. Outside her. There was only Brooke, only this moment, only the need to be inside her.
My gaze dropped, zeroing in on her pussy, taking in every detail of her. She was so fucking wet, she was glistening.
I unbuttoned my pants with unsteady fingers and stepped forward between her thighs.
Her hand flew up, stopping me, a gentle pressure against my chest. My eyes flashed up, locking on hers.
A question. A hunger. A moment suspended in time.
Then, a slow smile spread across her face, holding all the power in the world.
"Not like that."
She lifted, shoving me back slightly as she slid off the bed to her feet, her skirt falling to her knees. I had no idea what she was doing, but it didn't matter; I was down for anything as long as I got to do it with her.
She spun around and lifted her skirt over her ass, and my heart rate spiked to an unsafe high. "Like this." She leaned forward, bending over the bed, baring her ass to me.
I bit down hard on my bottom lip. "Fuck." That was all I could manage to say. My hands trembled as they reached out for her.
I raked my hand over the smooth skin of her ass as she looked back at me over her shoulder. I loved everything about Brooke, but I'd always been an ass man, and fuck did she have an amazing ass.
She wiggled, backing up to me, and I couldn't help but smile.
My girl was desperate for me. My hands curled around her hips as I slid my thick length through her cheeks.
"Is this what you want, baby?" I reached around between her thighs and stroked my fingers through her soaking wet pussy, teasing her.
She squirmed, releasing a tiny whimper as I stroked my dick through her wetness, coating myself as I rubbed tight little circles over her clit. I leaned forward, sliding her hair to one side as I pressed my lips to the sensitive skin just below her ear.
I positioned myself at her entrance, but didn't move further. I let her feel me there, so close, yet not giving her what we both desperately wanted. Her breathing quickened. She tried to push back against me, but my hand on her hip held her steady.
"Matt," she pleaded, the single syllable of my name carrying five days' worth of longing.
"I've thought about this every night," I breathed against her ear, my lips grazing the sensitive skin there. "Being inside you again. Being home."
I eased forward just enough for her to feel the pressure, then stopped again. Her fingers clutched at the sheets, knuckles whitening.
"Please," she whispered.
"I'm going to slide inside you now, baby."
Slowly, I began to push inside her, feeling every inch of her body welcome me back.
The sensation was overwhelming—warm, tight, and perfect.
When I finally buried myself completely inside her, time seemed to stop.
Her moan, starting low and building to something desperate and primal, mixed with my deep guttural groan as her body pulsated around me.
I shoved my hand into her hair, tugging, and my other hand held her hips in place as I slammed into her. Giving her exactly what she asked for, fucking her like she belonged to me.
The sound of our skin slapping together echoed over our labored breathing and her soft moans that were growing louder and louder.
Time seemed to dissolve around us, the world narrowing to just this… just us. Nothing existed beyond the points where our bodies connected.
My body moved on its own, finding a rhythm. Slow at first. Then faster. Harder. More desperate. Each thrust was a declaration. Each withdrawal was a question. Would this… us… last forever?
Her body answered. Muscles tightening. Back arching. "Matt…" My name in her mouth became something sacred. Something broken and whole at once.
And I was undone. I came so hard the edges of my vision darkened, reality fragmenting into nothing but sensation and her name on my lips, over and over, a promise I intended to keep.
I continued to pump into her until I was completely empty, the intensity of our connection leaving me breathless and somehow more vulnerable than before.
She lifted off the bed, and I pulled out of her.
In the quiet aftermath, something shifted between us, a settling, a certainty that hadn't been there before.
The physical release had unlocked something deeper.
All I could think about was curling up in my bed and holding her until we fell asleep, then waking to her face tomorrow, and the day after, and all the days that followed.
"Move in with me?" The words came out more controlled than they felt, surprising even me with their clarity.
The question had been forming in my mind for weeks, even before everything fell apart. But now, with the taste of her still on my lips and the fear of losing her still fresh, was I rushing? Pushing too hard?
She stilled completely, her body tensing against mine. For three excruciating seconds, she didn't blink, didn't breathe. I counted each heartbeat hammering in my chest, one, two, three, four, preparing myself for rejection.
"What?" she finally whispered, eyes widening.
I could backpedal. Play it off as a post-sex impulse. Instead, I let myself fall further.
"I want to wake up every morning with you," I said. "I want to burn pancakes with you on Sundays and argue about whose turn it is to do the dishes." I took a breath, committed to the free fall. "I want this to be our home, not just mine."
I watched emotions flicker across her face like shadows—surprise, hesitation, and something else I couldn't quite name. Hope, maybe. Or fear. Sometimes with Brooke, they looked remarkably similar.
"But Kar…"
"You and Karen, of course."
Her face twisted. "Are you sure? Because Karen can be, well, a Karen."
I laughed. "Yes, I'm sure."
She smiled, but I could see the hesitation in her eyes. I didn't want to force her. I wanted her to be absolutely sure this is what she wanted.
"You don't have to decide right now," I added. "Take all the time you need." She smiled. "But if you decide you want to, we can redecorate to make this our home and not a museum."
"A museum?" she asked, glancing around at my minimalist decor.
"Come on, you've been dying to add some color to this place since the first time you visited."
"True," she admitted with a laugh. "I was thinking maybe a nice burnt orange for the living room..."
I winced dramatically. "Let's negotiate that one."
She laughed, and I wrapped my arms around her, breathing in the scent of her hair, feeling more at home than I ever had in this house. Whatever color she wanted to paint the walls, whatever furniture she wanted to rearrange, none of it mattered. She was here, and that made it home.
"So you'll think about it?"
She nodded. "Yeah."
A comfortable silence settled between us. The urgency that had driven us earlier softened into something quieter, more intimate. I pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, and she leaned into it, her eyes closing briefly.
"Come on," I murmured, taking her hand. I pulled back the covers on what had always been my side of the bed.
"You look tired," she said softly, reaching up to brush her thumb across the shadow beneath my eye.
I slid under the covers and held them open for her, and she crawled in beside me, her body finding mine with the ease of muscle memory.
Her head settled into the crook of my shoulder, her arm draped across my chest, her leg tangled with mine.
The familiar weight of her against me unlocked something that had been tightly wound inside me for days.
"I missed this the most," she whispered into the darkness. "Just being here with you. Like this." I tightened my arm around her, drawing her closer.
"Me too."