Matt & Brooklyn: A Standalone in the "Again for the First Time" Family Saga (AFTFT Book 2) (15 page)

So, knowing how serious this is, why the hell am I still smiling? Tonight was a disaster.

Even with this thought, the satiated expression never left my face. I couldn’t help myself. My skin still felt him, all over, everywhere. We were friends—supposed to be, anyway, but things like this don’t happen between friends. And honestly? Neither do surprise, drunken weddings, but I didn’t even want to go there right now.

But I
definitely
wasn’t allowed to enjoy the sex as much as I just did. And damn did I enjoy it.

My eyes fluttered closed and my thighs ignited with the memory of Matt trapped between them, pressing into me while I held him close. His scent was still in my nostrils, his name still on the tip of my tongue. I wanted more.

I quickly lifted my lids and looked around, forcing myself to snap out of his spell.
Stop it, girl.

As friends, I suppressed most of the sexual thoughts that surfaced, but even in the few wayward moments when I couldn’t control it, I never imagined it would be that good. A stray tremor rippled through my body when I thought about it and I felt the smooth skin of his biceps against my hands. I couldn’t stop fantasizing about him, about what we did. It just played on repeat inside my head like a broken record. Over and over and over…

Matt had given me several chances to back out, to come to my senses, but I didn’t take any of them. We got caught up and the truth slipped out—verbally and through my actions. I’d wanted him for a while and frankly, I was doing a sucky job of pretending like I didn’t. He saw it. My sisters saw it. Apparently the only one I had fooled was me.

This couldn’t happen again, though. I wouldn’t allow myself to feel regret because that wouldn’t change anything, but like I said, we had to be done with this. I hoped that if we pretended like this moment of weakness had never taken place we could go back, but… I couldn’t un-kiss him, couldn’t un-feel his touch, couldn’t un-feel him inside me.

...another tremor made me shiver beneath the warm water. What’s wrong with me?

I couldn’t seem to convince my body that what just took place was not a good thing. Matt and I would never look at the other the same again now. I would probably always be the girl he screwed against the wall from here on out—not Brook, his best friend, the one he could come to for advice, the one he could chill with and be himself around. No, all that had probably changed now.

And it broke my heart to think that we ruined us.

…just like I said we would.

Ok, so maybe there was just a tiny bit of regret after all.

The faucet ran dry when I twisted the single knob above it. I stood there for a moment, listening to the last of the water flowing down the drain.

He expected me to come back to his room after my shower, but I wasn’t sure I could face him so soon. I placed my hand on my forehead.  He’s seen me naked.
Matt…
has seen me naked.

How am I supposed to face him now?

That was the question still lingering in my mind as I left the bathroom, peering across the hall into Matt’s room. There, I found him lying bare-chested on his bed, arm draped over his eyes, snoring quietly. A mild sense of relief came over me when I realized he’d fallen asleep while waiting for me. I went to his doorway and watched him for a moment, droplets of water running off my skin and settling on the floor beneath me. It was easy to understand how things went the way they did. On top of him being terribly sexy—which was unfortunate for me—he also had the personality to match; a rarity. My best friend was the total package and I couldn’t overlook what a catch he was.

It was hard to believe that he was able to fall asleep so easily after what we’d done. I wondered if it was because he had years to cope with all this, while I only allowed myself to acknowledge our connection since arriving here in L.A. Either way, I envied his peace of mind, knowing I’d likely be up half the night worrying about the aftermath.

I reached inside his room and flipped off the light switch before continuing on to my own space. Once inside, I closed the door and sat on the edge of the bed in a towel. My eyes went to my feet and all I saw was them locked at the small of Matt’s back, feeling his hips thrusting between my thighs. Heat touched my cheeks and that damn smile came back when I lowered my head. It was shameful to be blushing so hard over him. No matter how I tried to deny the affect he had on me, the evidence was clear.

It was unlikely that I’d be able to take my mind off him anytime soon, so I gave up trying; deciding to give in and just allow myself to revel in what we’d done—just for tonight.

After all, this was a onetime event. May as well enjoy it, right?

*****

Matt

Brook’s eyes widened when she entered the kitchen, wearing a short, fuzzy, pink, robe that left her legs exposed. I lifted my eyes back to her face quickly so she wouldn’t think I was trying to start anything. Her hair was curly again, the result of getting it wet in the shower the night before. The ringlets were soft and framed her face; beautiful, just like her.

Bacon. Eggs. Pancakes. I pulled out all the stops seeing as how this was the first morning I got to spend at home, the first day I didn’t have obligations that would pull me away from her, and the last we’d spend together here in L.A. Later this afternoon, we both had flights to catch, but up until then, we had the day to ourselves.

“We expecting company or something?” she asked, fidgeting with the sleeve of the robe as she came closer, giving off too much nervous energy to ignore. I hated it; hated that she already seemed different.

Glancing over from my post at the stove, I gave a smile. “Nope. Just us. I figured whatever we don’t eat for breakfast, we can polish it off for lunch.”

With a smile so faint it hardly qualified as one, she nodded. “Smells good.”

I gestured toward one of the barstools at the island with the spatula in my hand. She went there, adjusting the lapel of her robe after she got comfortable. This felt strange, but it didn’t have to be. However, I knew it would be me who would have to break the ice. I needed her to realize that she still knew me, knew me
better
actually. What we did last night should only bring us closer, not tear us apart.

She looked up when the metal spatula clinked against the countertop and I turned off the stove.

“We’re still us, Brook,” I assured her, feeling that this was what she needed to hear.

She met my gaze with a ‘
How in the hell could we still be us after what we just did?’
look in her eyes.

“Wanna know how I know?”  I asked, smiling a bit, hoping to reassure her.

She gave a gentle nod, but didn’t say anything.

“Because none of this is new. I mean, yeah, the sex part was new,” I said frankly. “But the feelings behind what happened last night have been there all along.” While, yeah, I was taking a risk speaking for
both
of us, I was confident that what I said was all one-hundred percent true. And for the sake of not completely freaking her out, I kept it to myself that this ‘
something’
I felt for her
…
was love.

I, Matteo Giovanni Valente, am madly in love with Brooklyn Rose James.

Period.

She was the sole reason I hadn’t dated anyone in years. I lost interest in everyone but her and, to save face, blamed it on being too busy to worry about having a relationship. But the truth of the matter was: I didn’t want to waste time, or emotions, on some woman who would never be anything but a substitute for the real thing.

My
real thing—
Brook
.

I walked around to her side of the island. Her hair was warm against my chin when my body swallowed hers in an embrace. The next second her arms went around me, too; the softness of her robe meeting my bare skin first and then the feel of her fingertips against it.

“I’m scared, Matt.”

The words made my eyes open. I backed away just a few inches, landing a kiss on the tip of her nose first. Her gaze was on me again and I waited for her to continue.

“I loved what we were,” she admitted. “This, what we’re doing now… it’s unfamiliar territory for us and I’m scared we’ll lose
everything
if we…” her voice trailed off and my brow twitched at the sight of water pooling in the corners of her eyes. “You’re literally the only friend I have,” she said with a cynical laugh, sliding a finger beneath her lower-lid to collect the few fallen tears. “You might not want to believe this, but… last night changed things. It changed
everything
,” she clarified.

I held one of her hands in mine and leaned against the counter, waiting for her to finish.

“As friends, there are a different set of rules, different expectations, Matt. But as
more
than friends,” she said, pausing. “It’s different.”

I heard her, but didn’t fully understand. To me, nothing would be different. Neither of us were committed to anyone; we understood one another better than anyone else did. What did she see coming that I didn’t?

“Relationships change people. Somewhere along the line bitterness creeps in, people get bored, sometimes there’s resentment. There’s none of that with friendship, though—part of the reason being that our life decisions don’t affect each other. Think about it; how would it have gone if the opportunity to move to L.A. would’ve come and you and I were in a relationship?”

I gave the scenario some thought, but didn’t see the point in bringing this up. We were here, in present day, so why should the ‘
what ifs’
have anything to do with our future?

“It would’ve gone one of two ways,” she went on. “Either you would’ve passed on the opportunity and stayed in Lindmore for me, or I would’ve given up everything to come here with you. Any way you cut it, those kinds of sacrifices breed resentment down the road, Matt.” She stared, maybe waiting for me to get on board with this logic, but I didn’t.
Couldn’t.

“Brook, I hear you. Really I do, but I’m a firm believer in people making things work if they want them bad enough.” I paused and made sure she heard me. “And I definitely want you bad enough.”

It looked like she stopped breathing as she stared.

Whatever arrangements we had to make—keeping a couple days clear on my schedule every week despite the professional consequences—I was willing to do that if it meant having her. I wanted to build something with Brook, something that would outlast any accomplishments I could
ever
achieve here. I wanted something that would give my life meaning long after the world forgets my name. Deep down, I knew my career wasn’t the most important thing to me. Never had been.

She
was.

“You’re simplifying this,” she said with a sigh, turning away, but leaving her hand in mine.

“And you’re making it harder than it has to be,” I countered.

She was quiet.

I didn’t want this to turn into a fight, so I chose not to drive my point home further, although there was plenty more to say. My finger beneath her chin brought her eyes to me again.

Kissing the top of her head, I brought my hands to the sides of her face. Doing so forced her to stare at me, her warm brown eyes feeding my addiction when I had their attention. There were so many things I wanted to say, but knew if I confessed it all she’d run, so I kept my mouth shut, settling for a kiss. Our lips touched and I felt her fingers on my wrists, encircling them, but not to move them away. She was holding on, holding me in place. To my surprise, she was receptive, anxiously kissing me back when I went in for another, one that more closely resembled the depths we explored to the night before. Her tongue on my lips, in my mouth, was my undoing. I leaned into her and felt her knees part for me, tightening at my hips once I was between them.

We stopped, but remained close, lingering in one another’s space. With my forehead pressed to hers, I spoke the words, “This could work.”

If the distance was what bothered her, that wouldn’t be a problem for long. Once the project with Pete was underway this fall, I’d basically be right around the corner from her. If I had to arrange to fly in and out every couple days or drive the few hours to Lindmore, I’d do that.

She never responded. Instead she got lost deep in her thoughts, shifting her attention toward the ocean serenading us through the open kitchen window.

I didn’t expect her to give anything up for me. I’d
never
expect that. And likewise, I knew she’d never forgive herself if I started passing on opportunities to be closer to
her
. Although, I knew doing so wouldn’t make me resent her down the line like she thought, I was cool with taking things slow. It just happened to work out that while we were figuring things out, getting comfortable in this new place our relationship was settling into, I wouldn’t have to be so far away.

I waited for this girl all this time. I waited and now she was finally showing me that it hadn’t all been for nothing. Her doubts, the details; those things would sort themselves out in time. For now, all I cared about, all that mattered, was that we were finally getting somewhere. In the coming months, I hoped we would get to address some of these challenges head on, but Brook wouldn’t have to face her fears—those she voiced and those she hadn’t—alone.