But then, for the first time, her answer is different.
Slowly, Brooke shakes her head, the long length of her dark hair brushing across her shoulders as her eyes hold mine.
“Follow-up question.” So much for not wanting to push my luck. “Would you be upset if I kissed you now?”
The words are barely out of my mouth before Brooke’s eyes drop to my lips, locking onto them. “I shouldn’t let you kiss me.”
“Why not?” I decide to lighten the moment a little. “Is it because I’m terrible at it?”
“Terrible is a pretty strong word.” Brooke’s eyes light up as she teases me back. “I would say you're easily average.”
“Average, huh?” I chuckle. “That’s probably because I haven’t done it in a while. I’m rusty.”
I’ve been paying such close attention to everything Brooke says, I’ve forgotten I need to be watching my own words. Andit’s led me to give something away. Something no one really knows. Not my family. Not my friends.
Definitely not Brooke.
She laughs off my statement. “I don’t believe that for a second.” Her eyes make a show of moving up and down my body. “I’m sure a man who looks like you gets plenty of opportunities to practice.”
“The opportunities weren’t the problem.” Now that I’ve opened this particular can of worms, a big part of me wants to just dump everything out. Lay it all between us and let her decide if it’s too much. Not enough. “It was a question of inclination.”
One of Brooke’s dark brows angles. “You’re saying you weren’t inclined to kiss women who were interested in you?”
“Correct.” I watch her face as she does the math. The mental gymnastics required to put together what it means.
Again, Brooke rubs her lips together, eyes dipping to my mouth before lifting back to meet mine. “How long has it been?”
“Almost ten years.” I answer honestly, hoping to God I haven’t just fucked everything up.
Brooke tucks her chin, brows pinching. “We were together almost ten years ago.”
“We were.” My hand curves around her jaw, fingers sliding along her scalp and into her hair. “That’s how long it’s been.”
“Are you saying…” She doesn’t finish her thought.
So I do. “That you are the last woman I’ve kissed?” I offer her a confirming nod. “I am.”
All the air seems to rush out of her lungs before she pulls in another sharp breath, the full curve of her breasts lifting toward me on the inhale. “That means...”
Again, she can’t seem to get it all out. But I’ve gone too far to turn back now, so I tell her what I hope will show her just how serious I am. “That you’re also the last woman I’ve been inside of.”
A pretty pink flush creeps up her neck and across her cheeks. “That’s impossible.”
“Trust me. It’s possible.” Incredibly frustrating, but possible.
“But—” She sputters a little. “But why?”
I could take all day to answer that question, but I choose to keep it simple. For now. “Because I never met anyone I wanted to kiss as much as I wished I could kiss you.”
“That’s…” She shakes her head, gaze bouncing between my mouth and my eyes. “That’s…” She starts producing sounds of disbelief instead of words. “That’s…” Brooke scoffs then sputters before finally whispering, “Insane.”
I’m not going to argue that. I’ve felt insane more than a few times over the years. Wondered why in the hell I couldn’t just move on. Why I couldn’t let myself even consider another woman when it was clear Brooke was out of reach.
This is why. This moment right here.
Brooke was always meant to be mine. I just had to repent. Suffer. Mature.
Prove I was good enough to have her.
