Brooke

I plop on my couch, fixing my skirt so I don't flash Nate too much thigh. The night is stocked so full, I have to scroll a few times to make sure I've got it all. When Nate takes a spot next to me, I push my plate of veggies over to him, making sure the celery is on his end so he eats his greens. But his hand goes straight for the carrots, and I smack it before he snags one.

He laughs and makes a show of eating the celery, even though I'm only watching him out of my peripheral.

I double and triple check everything for tonight... alerts all set and I've made the night work calculating in Nate's driving habits.

My stomach gives a little groan, and Nate laughs as I put my phone screen down on the coffee table and grab a snap pea. I'm a good girl who eats my greens before my oranges.

"Do you mind?" he asks, gesturing to my Galaxy. I stop chewing to think about it. No one touches my phone, but it's Nate. For some reason, I feel like it's okay if he wants to look. That he's already seen so many parts of me there's nothing in there I'd be afraid of him seeing.

Plus, it may keep him on schedule tonight.

"Go for it."

We finish off my veggie plate, eating more ranch than vegetable, while he scrolls through my schedule, a light smile on his face. I like watching him, even though I know he wants friendship and nothing more, I still can't help but admire his features, get bubbly over that wrinkle by his eye when he smiles, and really wish I could reach out and touch his hair. Sometimes I pretend to fix it though, when really... it doesn't need to be fixed.

"What is this?" he asks, pulling me out of hair gazing.

I scoot over on the couch to glance over his shoulder. He smells like his aftershave. "It's my itinerary for tomorrow's date."

He raises an eyebrow and points at the 9:15 task. Have sex!

"It's a date three," I simply say, then grab our empty plate. I originally had it under "goals" but maybe if I put it on the actual calendar, things will fall into place. It's been dud after dud after dud lately. It's probably because I'm not doing things the way I used to. Before Nate messed me up. I shove that thought away before I smack him and he doesn't know why.

His lips twitch as he flicks through the rest of my schedule. "I knew you had a 'plan' for all this, but I didn't know you had an alarm for when it would happen."

"I have an alarm for everything," I say, getting up and setting his dish neatly in my dishwasher. "Even my stomach, remember?"

"So, 9:00 tomorrow, you're having sex no matter what happens on this date?"

That's the plan. I force a smile at him. "9:15."

He shakes his head, staring at my phone with a pale look on his face. I want to tell him I'm joking, but I don't know if I am. If things go well, I probably will be having sex at 9:15 tomorrow night. We've gotten through our levels. Next step is to see if we're physically compatible, because we're compatible on paper.

And this is me. I follow schedules. I organize my clothes by color. I have a different perfume for "work Brooke" and "play Brooke." That's what I do. I have to do things perfectly if I'm ever going to get married and have a family before I'm twenty-seven. That's what Mom expects. What I expect for myself.

"Do you ever go with the flow?" he asks, setting my phone on the coffee table.

"You know I don't." I fold my arms and lean against my counter, watching him play with his tie. It's hanging too loose again. "I like to plan. It's fun. It's sort of satisfying." I wonder if he notices the "sort of" part.

"You know what else is satisfying?" His eyes snap to mine. "Spontaneity."

"You're lying," I joke, and he laughs, getting up to meet me in the kitchen. He settles against the counter next to me. Why he suddenly feels the need to be standing with me, I don't know. Does he know how much I like having him this close? Prickles zip up my side when his arm slightly brushes mine. Happens every time. Can't seem to make that go away no matter how many times I tell my brain he's only going to be a friend and coworker.

He gulps, runs a hand through his hair, and scratches the back of his neck. I raise my eyebrows.

"Will you try something for me?"

"No." I laugh and he lightly chuckles with me, but it comes out funky.

"I mean it. You've left my jacket sitting on the floor so far. I think you can do this too."

That's true. I actually haven't thought about his jacket piled up by my door since we sat down and worked. But now he brings it up and it's suddenly driving me crazy.

"What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to turn your phone off tomorrow."

Oh no. "That's not happening."

"Why not? You're not working. You don't need it."

"You just saw my schedule."

"You don't need that."

"Yes I do."

"No... you don't."

I want to pop him one, but he's making me smile and laugh, and he's inched his way closer to me. My prickles intensify, and I'm wondering if he can read it on my face. He's good at reading me.

"Chemistry isn't something you can plan, Brooke. It's something that just happens, then you decide what to do about it in the moment."

"I can plan chemistry." Well, I'm determined to. It hasn't really worked that well for me, but maybe I haven't found my niche yet. Which is why I rearranged the schedule for tomorrow. Sex was previously scheduled at 9:30.

"Did you plan on us?"

I jolt back. "What?"

He waves his finger between our bodies, and my stomach flips a pancake. "This. Did you ever think we'd be friends? Did you plan on it? Or did it just happen?"

Oh. Friends.

"That's different."

"How so?"

"Oh, who the hell knows? I just like to argue with you."

He laughs, and it makes me laugh. Like always. Damn him. "You know why?"

"Why what?"

"Why you like to argue with me." He leans in, and my eyes drop to his lips. "Because it's spontaneous."

"Oh, little do you know," I say, but it comes out quiet because I can't seem to concentrate. The familiar heat Nate seems to cause rushes through my chest and stomach. "I schedule all our arguments."

"I didn't see this one in there."

"You were looking in the wrong spot."

He smiles, and I blink up to his eyes. I thought he was close, because my whole body feels his warmth, but he's actually not that close at all. He's suddenly way too far away. Not close enough.

My gaze drops to that tie, and partly because I want to be closer, partly because it drives me bonkers, I take a step toward him and slide my hands up to tighten his knot. My fingers linger at the top, and I fix his collar, which doesn't need it, but now that my hands are on him, I'm having a hard time taking them off.

He leans toward me, and I refuse to meet his eyes.

"Did you also plan what happened in Tahoe?"

He's finally saying something about that kiss. In a roundabout way, but it's out there now. And even the most efficient planner couldn't have seen that coming. I don't answer, because what the hell do I say? No, I didn't plan for that one. And yes, because I didn't plan it I let it go. Then I never planned on talking about it because I didn't want to make him uncomfortable, so we haven't.

But here we are, talking about the kiss. Our kiss. And my throat has gone dry. I drop my hands and take a step back so I don't lose all control.

"Brooke," he says, taking me out of my brain. He pokes me playfully in the forehead. "Chill. I'm only trying to prove a point."

"What point?"

"That it's okay to not live by the book. Sometimes, you even do it." He drops his eyes to my perfectly scrubbed floor. "And it's cute as hell."

I lick my lips, which is a total third date move, but I don't give a shit. I want to make a third date move... and it's not even a third date. I have no idea what time it is. His jacket is still piled on my floor. My computer is open on the coffee table. My phone dings next to it. But all I want to do is ignore all of that.

I slap my hands on either side of his face and pull him to me with so much force I nearly knock us on our asses. My lips slam with his, and I refuse to open my eyes because I'm sure his are wide open in the "What the hell?!" position.

Before he has a chance to kiss me back, I shove him back against the counter. His eyes are in the "What the hell" position, and that's when it hits me. I just kissed a guy who's rejected me. Have I become that girl? There's no way I'm keeping my job after this. Or our friendship. Oh, shitty, shit, shit, shit. I throw my hands up to cover my face. "I'm sorry!"

Please tell me he wants to shrug this off. We'll just play it cool like we did with the other "spontaneous" moment we shared. But the next thing I know, he's prying my fingers from my face, and his lips meet mine, hard and hungry.

After one point five seconds of shock, I can't help but throw myself into it. I mean, literally throw myself. We stumble against my sink, and if I hurt him, he doesn't say anything. He pushes us back, keeping one hand on my cheek while the other catches us against the fridge. I love his hands there because I have free roam of his body. I fist my fingers into the fabric of his shirt and pull him closer, closer, closer.

My phone dings again, and I hear it, but I don't hear it. I know exactly what alarm just went off, and my voice is muffled as I try to talk around his hot kisses. "Nate, there's a venue that's good for stargazing that the Johnston couple wanted to look at." I just need to call his mom and let her know tonight will be a good time to head out there, but I'm swallowed up in Nate's kisses again. He groans against my lips, and I shiver underneath him, wishing I wasn't in my tight business skirt so I could leap up and wrap my legs around him.

His hands move down my neck and grasp my breasts. Tingles shoot through my body, and I kiss my way across his jaw to his ear. My phone dings again in the background.

"We can call the best man in the Albert wedding now." I bite behind his ear and gasp when he pushes my top button open. "Um... He said he got off at 6:30."

Nate dips his head, kissing the top of my breasts and pressing his hips into me. The fridge rocks, and I hear the condiments I keep in the door topple and fall with each thrust. I weave my fingers up the buttons on his shirt, searching for that tie I fixed so I can loosen it again.

His kisses move down, but I need his face up here so I can get this damn shirt off him. I grab the back of his collar and tug him up.

"Brooke," he grunts, then bites my bottom lip. My fingers aren't working fast enough. I need these buttons open. I need this tie out of the freaking way. "I have a confession."

He reaches up, cradling my face, breathing hard and looking me straight on.

"This isn't really...spontaneous." His mouth twitches, and I'm thinking, shit, maybe I'm not capable of spontaneity. I try to pull back, but he sees my hesitation and it's like he automatically knows what's going through my head. "No, Brooke, I meant that I've thought about this. I've thought about you. I'm sorry it took me so long to say this, but you're in every damn thought I have. You talk about those levels you have, and I have those too. And I'm there with you."

His thumbs stroke my cheeks, and I realize as I look in his eyes that those levels, the plan, the schedule I'm so determined to live by happened without me knowing about it.

Like The Big Bang Theory.

"I don't want you going out with that guy tomorrow. I don't want you going out with anyone but me. I want level four or whatever the hell level it is that makes you mine... and me yours."

We pause against each other. His tie dangles from his collar, my hair has somehow come undone from its bun, and I watch his eyes. Of course that's what I want, too. If I had my phone in my hand, I'd mark it on my calendar with mini hearts and a permanent smile on my face. But right now, I don't want to take my hands off him. I don't want him to take his hands off me.

"Are you saying you're ready, then?" Please don't tell me I'm a fling. "For me? For everything?"

"I'm ready." He reaches up to tuck my hair back, and his fingers slide down my earring. "Level me up, Brooke."

I laugh, then lick my lips again and say, "Okay."

His smile before he kisses me is so damn sexy I want to rip the buttons off his shirt just to get it open. But that's not like me to ruin a beautiful dress shirt, so I frantically push them through while his hands bunch up the skirt around my hips.

"Wait!" I say, but I'm not really following my own advice, because I've finally gotten his shirt open revealing his damn fine stomach, sprinkled with just the right amount of hair. "We can't do this yet."

I say it, but I'm still trying to rip his shirt the rest of the way off. I'm pulling his face up to mine. I want him so bad. Every freaking part of him. I've never been so hungry to make love in all my life. But... "I don't...I can't...I'm not wearing my...sex panties."

He laughs against my lips, but his hands don't stop undressing me either. "What the hell are sex panties?"

"You know," I say, finally getting his shirt over his shoulders. "The lace panties girls wear before sex. I'm still wearing my business panties." I kiss my way down his bare chest, gripping the muscles on his arms. Rock solid. Damn.

He pushes another button through its hole on my shirt, kissing the top of my head as I try to travel back to his lips. "I don't give a shit what kind of underwear you have on, Brooke. They won't be on you much longer."

I've never had sex without my sex panties. Nate gets all my buttons undone and dives under my shirt, grasping my waist. I want to move. Get me to my damn bed, now. He's right. Who the hell cares what kind of underwear I'm wearing?

We trip and bump into my toaster on the counter, my chairs in my dining area. He smacks his ass on the doorknob of my hall closet door when we trip over Snickers running down the hallway. We knock a picture down when he throws me against the wall. My phone rings again and my mouth opens around his. "I need to call the restaurant to confirm our reser-"

His tongue jets out, cutting me off and making me forget whatever the hell it was I was saying.

"Brooke," he pants in between kisses and nibbles. Warmth rushes between my legs when he pulls at my earlobe. "Would you shut. Up?"

We both laugh, and I grapple behind me for my doorknob. I twist it open, and we fall to the floor because the bed is just too damn far away.

"Okay." He pauses, catching his breath and his fingers start slowly tracing patterns up and down my neck, sending rushes of shivers through me.

I miss all the groping and tearing but this feels so...good.

He slides my bra strap over, kissing where it rested on my shoulder.

"What... What are you...?"

"Shhh..." He chuckles softly, his breath spreading another round of goose bumps as it hits the top of my breasts. "Don't think about how late we're going to be. Let's just... take our time."

There it is again. The realization that I've found the guy who makes me want to toss out the rule book for him. Late? Late for what? Who the hell cares?

I nod against his forehead, then close my eyes as his fingers travel over my body. I've never been undressed so slowly during foreplay. He moves bit by bit, kissing every avenue of skin once it's exposed. When he slides my skirt off, he takes one look at my business underwear and chuckles.

"If these are your business panties, I really want to see your sex panties."

He rips my g-string off, and I'd explain to him how they're the best for my skirt because they don't show any lines, but he told me to shut up. And I'm so glad he did because I don't want to talk anymore anyway.

He picks me up, swinging my legs around him now that I'm skirt-free and kisses me hard and fast again. We slam on the bed and I work his belt and slacks, speeding up the pace again, not because I want to get to our appointment on time, but because I'm dying for him to get his sexy ass naked now. It doesn't take me long. I probably set a record for slack stripping.

When he settles his perfectly nude body on top of mine, I giggle because I can't stop myself. I'm just too incredibly excited and stoked about what's about to happen, but he stops and shoves his face in my pillow.

"Oh shit."

"What?"

"I don't have a condom." He slams his head more into the pillow. "I didn't think we'd...not tonight...but...shit, shit, shit."

"Do you not know me at all?" I lift his face and smile. "Third drawer down. There's Ultra Thin, Ribbed, Magnum, Lubricated..."

He spins from me and jerks open the drawer leaning half off my bed and giving me a perfect view of his nicely toned backside. I want to dig my nails in those cheeks and give them a permanent residence there.

"You're insane," he says, opening my condom drawer. All the boxes are lined up alphabetically. "Did you buy out the store?"

I kiss up his arm and bite him lightly on the shoulder. "Prepared Brooke. See, sometimes it's a good thing."

Without grabbing one, he rolls over, covering my body and presses his forehead and nose against mine. "You are unbelievable." He smiles, then delivers the gentlest of kisses on my lips. As much as I've loved all the hungry and anxious kisses we've had so far, this is the one that fills my body with something beyond passion or desire. It's something I've never felt before, but it makes me forget anything and everything but Nate. Not just his body against mine, but him.

"Which one is your favorite?"

"What?"

"Which condom should I use?"

A blush creeps through my cheeks, and I don't know why because I shouldn't be embarrassed considering the position we're in. But I kiss him lightly, like he did to me, and whisper, "Ultra thin." Who knows if it's my favorite, but I want to feel as much of him as possible.

The moment we're together, I turn into a mad woman. Sex was always something that I thought followed a certain method in order to work properly. But for once... I completely, one-hundred percent... let go.

I let go on him. Under him. Around him. I let out a slew of profanities and moan and scream his name to the entire freaking world and I don't care if anyone hears. I don't care that we knock my lamp off my nightstand, probably breaking the light bulb. I don't care that we fall on our asses to the floor, which probably gave us both rug burn. I don't care that he laughs, I laugh, or when he groans it sends me rocketing into another frenzy of whatever I did to pull that noise from him.