Brooks. In my apartment. My. Loft.

In this moment, I cannot believe it's been two months. Cannot believe it's taken two months for one of us to cave and visit the other. Can't believe it was him.

Marble god hovers over me. His washboard abs inches from my face. He pulls my hands to him and lets them drop on the hem of his towel.

He unfolds my legs and puts one on either side of him. I look up at him from the bed. Brooks slides my hands down over the towel. I can feel he is fucking ready.

"This is just from looking at you." Brooks tucks a loose hair behind his ear.

Holy fuck. My hand grips his dick through the dainty ass towel. I've gone too long without this. My body aches. I can literally feel myself dripping wet. Not from the shower.

I want to just take him. All of him. I want to taste him. To pleasure the absolute fuck out of him. Brooks leans his head down to mine. I squeeze my legs on either side of his towel. His fingers graze the front of my panties.

My body spasms at his brief touch. He pulls my hair slightly so I tilt back exposing my neck. His breath is heavy and hot against my neck.

"Stand."

Yes fucking sir. I'm on my feet without even realizing how I got there. He grabs my waist and kisses me so deep. So rough. So like he's been waiting two months to do this. I moan when he grips my ass in his hands. His fingers tighten. Then abruptly he drops it. He spins me around so I face the edge of the bed.

Marble god loses towel. I can feel him hard against my ass. He kneels, tugging my underwear off on the way down. I feel his hand glide up my back pushing me forward. I bend over until my chest is against the duvet. His fingers find my hair again and twists through it. My nerves are on fucking edge. His other hand presses down on the small of my back.

Brooks groans as he fills me. I groan more. Everything's a contest with us. I feel him above me. I picture him above me. Hammering into me like some analogy I can't even think of because everything is on fire right now. It's a glorious NX-17 sight.

It feels like... well fuck it feels like I can't believe I've gone two months without it. Without him. Without who I am when I'm with him. He hits the front of my inside, each push forcing me further onto the bed. His hands are back on my hips, holding me in place. I lose myself and give in entirely to his body. He doesn't slow down even when he knows I'm on the edge. We're both on edge.

He pumps faster. I have to bite my own palm and taste the sweetness of raw skin. It's over too quick. I blame it on the two-month gap.

I turn onto my side and watch as he collapses onto the bed next to me, grinning. What a grin.

"Ok, well thanks." I blurt out, sitting up. "I've got loads to do today so..."

"Good one." Brooks laughs. "Better clear your schedule."

"Oh yea? Why's that?" I bite my lip.

"I made dinner reservations for tonight." Brooks stretches across my bed.

We're both still sticky with sweat. Our showers were an absolute insult to the environment.

"You made dinner reservations? In Seattle?"

"Yep," Brooks nods.

"Well, aren't you presumptuous? You just assumed I would let you stay?" I find it silly I'm even asking this. My chest is still prickly from sweat.

"I liked my chances." A smug smile parts his lips.

I can't help but love it. I sigh rolling my eyes. "Where is dinner then?"

"Some place on the pier. Supposed to be nice." Brooks nods.

"Does this place have a name?" Zero details, always.

"Cor something Finn." Brooks shrugs.

"Corbel Finn?" I ask, keeping my voice relatively calm. Trying to anyway.

Corbel Finn is one of the highest end, boujee spirited restaurants and bar in Seattle. Like, celebrities go there to get engaged boujee.

"Maybe," Brooks shrugs again, making a face, like he's no idea he booked a rezy at one of the most expensively extravagant spots in town.

"So listen, I've got to go back to the hotel. But I'll pick you up at like 8?" He says, throwing his dirty shirt over his head.

He looks too hot in a dirty T-shirt. The way it only partly covers his shoulder-arm tats. The way it drapes loosely over his chest, the neckline stretched out. It's just a T-shirt, Em.

"Hotel?" I don't know why I assumed he'd be staying here. Guess I was too busy anticipating jumping his bones that I didn't notice he wasn't carrying a suitcase or bag or anything.

"Four Seasons. I figured with your roommate and everything, it was easier to get a place."

"Fair. But my roommate is away for Thanksgiving. Back to her parents in San Diego. All alone." I grin.

"Fair." Brooks nods.

"So, 8?" I confirm.

Brooks smiles faintly and pecks a small phantom kiss on my head before leaving for the door.

So he's staying at the Four Seasons, a ridiculously nice hotel only a few blocks away. I'm onto him. Onto the smirk on his face. Onto his showing up out of the blue (albeit a very light blue) and making reservations for fancy places. This isn't us. This shit's not agreed upon. Still, I can't help but secretly love every minute of it.

After he leaves, I have a very solid and legit freak out session where I overthink absolutely everything that just happened. I overthink Go Zen and lunch and our afternoon quickie. I overthink his lips and his arms and his –well his everything.

4:13 PM

Not a TON of time to relax, re-shower, and dress for dinner. Coming down from my giddy-high I decide to text Zoë and ask for some womanly advice. She'll know the importance of it.

Hey Zoë

...

Emmy! Wondering if I'd hear from U.

How's the hottie ;)

...

Hottie is taking me to Corbel Finn !!!

...

SHUT UP no shit

...

I know. What should I wear?

...

Nothing. OK well u have to wear something but wear nothing under something.

I crack up at Zoë's text. She's always looking out for my sex life's best interest. Good gal. To be fair, we've never exactly gotten into a deeper friendship than that. Still, it's nice. Asking Zoë about Brooks. She doesn't know our history. She can't chastise me the same way that Trix or Meg or my mother can.

But really?? Dress right?

...

Course a dress. Black if u have it. Get it girl.

I send her back some winky face emoticons because I'm still refusing to resign to the millennialhood that is emojis.

OK. Black dress. Little black dress. LBD. I got this.

I sift through the shit in my closet. Skirts. Jeans. Dozens of camisoles. Silky. Cotton. Black. White. No LBD. How on the earth? My hands find a navy maxi with long velvet sleeves. I remember it right away because of the slit up the leg, holy fuck does it look good. It's close enough to black. It will have to do. I wonder if the long sleeves and slit are too ~sextra~ (sexy extra; extra in a sexy way, duh), but it is November. And nighttime. It seems appropriate.

I steam the bottom of the dress. Then shower again and decide to blow out my hair. I curl the ends and pin it back. The fact that I tried to push it off my face has the right effect. It looks like I spent a lot more time than I did. Simple make up but slightly darker than usual so it compliments my navy gown. Plum lips for the win. Dark lip drip.

I keep checking my phone, waiting for it to light up. To buzz and bring me back to reality. It doesn't.

Legit, I'm standing in my bathroom, mascara in hand and it's hitting me what this is. A date. My first date with Brooks. Would he call it a date? Idk how he'd get away with calling it anything else considering he trekked across the continental US to make it happen.