I nodded and smiled at Brian letting him know I was on board. He smiled, too, looking relieved. Maybe he’d thought I would say no. Maybe I should have said no, but lately, everything with Brian felt right. I was calm about it. I wasn’t freaking out.

I had spent so much of the last couple of years freaking out, it was a new sensation.

Brian called a cab, and we got in. He hadn’t driven because we’d both been drinking. I sat in the cab, looking out at the city sliding by, the passing lights illuminating the interior of the car at intervals.

We drove across the bay and toward North Beach where we entered a rich neighborhood. When the cab stopped and we got out, I looked up at two tall gates, wrought iron, beautiful.

The gates opened slowly, and we walked through. I teetered on my high heels, the alcohol throwing me a little off balance. I felt light and airy, the alcohol buzzing in my veins. Every nerve ending felt alive, and I hadn’t felt this in tune with myself in a long time.

I stopped when we neared the house. “Mansion” was a better word. The house was colossal, beautiful, with lights against the walls and in the plants that lit up the place like it belonged on the cover of a magazine. We walked to the giant front door, and Brian pushed it open.

“You live here?” I asked, walking first into the foyer. It was all white marble flooring with gray veins, the walls painted a very light gray to match, and a staircase spiraled up against the curved wall.

“Yeah,” Brian said. “This is home.”

He gestured toward the left, and I walked through to a living room that was modern and classic, all at the same time. White leather couches with red throw pillows creating splashes of color, paintings of women in Latin-style dresses dancing or posing, a fireplace almost as tall as I was.

“It’s beautiful,” I said.

Brian walked toward the wet bar in the corner.

“What do you want to drink?” he asked.

I sat down on one of the couches, facing him.

“I don’t know,” I said. “Surprise me.”

He nodded and reached for a glass. I looked around.

“You’ve done really well for yourself,” I said. “You’re living your dream.”

Brian snapped his head up. “You remember that?” he asked.

I thought about it, realized I did, and nodded.

A grin spread across his face, and it was beautiful, like the sun rising, lighting up his features.

He brought me the drink he’d prepared, a Cosmopolitan, complete with the martini glass.

“Classy,” I said.

He sat down next to me. I sipped the alcohol. He sat close enough that the cushion dipped a little beneath me, but not so close that he was invading my personal space. It was generous of him. He seemed to understand that I struggled with personal space sometimes. Of course, he knew me. I had to keep remembering that.

Another memory came out of nowhere. It was simple and straightforward. A movie, cars on the screen, and Brian next to me just like he was now. His hand wrapped around mine, fingers intertwined.

He’d turned his head and smiled at me, the lighting of the movie blue on his face.

He looked at me now, and it was the same look. Adoration? Or something similar.

“Did we watch Fast Five?” I asked.

Brian’s eyes widened a little. “Yeah.”

I nodded, looking down at my drink. “I remember,” I whispered.

The atmosphere changed. It charged with something that was familiar and foreign, all at the same time. When I looked at him, his eyes were on me, full of promise. They flicked to my lips before going back to my eyes. I knew what he was thinking.

“I remember that, too,” I said.

“What?” he asked.

I leaned forward slowly, almost scared to lean into him in case he pulled away. I had been doing the rejecting for so long, I wasn’t sure I would be able to handle it.

He did the rest. He took the lead, the way I somehow knew Brian would, and closed the distance between us. His hand slid onto my cheek, his finger warm and calloused on my skin. His eyes searched mine for just a second before he kissed me.

When his lips touched mine, electricity danced on my skin, and it took my breath away. Somewhere at the back of my mind, it was achingly familiar, but I stopped trying to remember. I stopped holding onto the past and just let it go. This was happening now. Here. This was all that mattered.

I sighed against his lips. He drew his tongue along my bottom lip, and I opened my mouth for him, letting him in. The alcohol made me brave. He kissed me, his tongue exploring my mouth, and he tasted like whiskey and something different, something I knew.

Heat washed through my body and pooled between my legs, making me wet. I wanted him. So help me, I wanted him. I was getting hot for him, my nipples erect, my core tightening. I put my arms around Brian’s neck, and the kissing changed from careful to urgent.

He pulled me closer, pressing his body up against mine. My breathing changed, becoming shallow, erratic. Brian slid his hand down my chest, and his hand found my breast, massaging the mound, kneading. I moaned into his mouth. He rubbed his thumb back and forth over my nipple, and it was like a direct line to my arousal.

As if Brian knew, he reached down and pulled up my shirt. I stopped kissing him and lifted my arms like a child so he could undress me. My heart hammered against my chest as he dropped the shirt on the floor, and I sat in front of him in my bra. I was scared, but I wanted him. I wanted Brian to claim me. Not only did I want him physically, but I also wanted to belong to him again.

“Are you okay with this?” he asked, and it meant everything to me that he did. I nodded.

He kissed me again. I did the same he did for me, pulling his shirt up and pulling it over his head. When he was topless, he reached behind my back and unclasped my bra, peeling it off my shoulders. I sat in front of him, my nipples erect in the chill of the room.

His eyes trailed down to them, and he looked at me, admiring me, as if he was committing the image of me to memory. Maybe he was. The idea of a memory had become very rare and precious to me.

When he touched me again, it was gentle and eager, all at the same time. He pulled me against him so my breasts were against his chest. I gasped. He guided me backward so I lay on my back on the couch. His hand kneaded my breast again before he moved down my stomach, tracing a circle around my belly button and headed toward my pants. He undid my pants and pushed his hand into my panties.

When his fingers dipped into my slit and he found my wetness, he groaned.

“God, you’re so ready for me,” he said in a voice that sounded like a growl filled with lust.

I swallowed and nodded. I was.

He ran his fingers over my clit, and I shuddered. I hadn’t been with anyone since the accident. It had been hard enough without getting so close to someone. And his fingers felt so much better on my clit than my own did.

I gasped, writhing under his body as he fingered me, waking my body. It seemed to remember other times he had done this to me, even if my mind did not. It knew how to move to help him make me feel as good as possible.

When he removed his hand, I moaned in protest, but he pressed his cock against me, grinding his hips, and I felt how hard he was. His cock was long and thick through his jeans, and he gyrated his hips. It was a taste of what was to come, and I was suddenly hungry.

He reached down and fiddled with my pants. I pressed against his chest, and he lifted his body, his face confused. I didn’t want him to stop, though. On the contrary, I wanted more. I undid my own pants and worked them over my hips. Brian helped me get rid of them. He stood up long enough to rid himself of his own pants, and then we were naked together.

I let my eyes slide over his body. He was muscular, fit, without an ounce of fat on him. I let my eyes trail down his defined abs to the path of light hair that pointed south. I followed the trail and found his cock hard, stiff, pointing up and away from his body. The tip was slick with lust, and it echoed my own urges.

I looked Brian in the eye. His pupils were dilated. He didn’t need me to ask him to come to me. He lay back down on the couch, lifting his weight off me just enough not to crush me.

He paused.

“Just a sec,” he said.

He sat up and reached for his pants. From his pocket, he retrieved a condom, and he tore open the foil packet. Should I have been worried about the fact the he had a condom in his jean pocket? Don’t be silly, I chided myself. He was obviously just hoping he’d get lucky tonight— and that was exactly what was happening.

He rolled the rubber over his length. When he was ready, he smiled at me, completely at ease with himself and what he’d just done, and positioned himself between my legs again.

My thighs fell open for him, and he pressed his tip against my entrance. There hadn’t been a lot of foreplay, but I didn’t want to wait. I wanted him.

He kissed me, and with his lips still locked on mine, he pushed his cock into me. I gasped against his mouth. I couldn’t remember the first time I’d had sex, and I still counted myself as a virgin because of it. But my body remembered.

It didn’t hurt. There was nothing but pleasure and the wonderful feeling that this was right. It felt familiar.

“This feels amazing,” Brian told me, breathing hard into my ear. He smelled like whiskey and wind. “I haven’t been with anyone since I was last with you.”

“Really?” I asked, genuinely surprised.

“People think I’m crazy,” he said. “Or some suspect I’m gay.”

I laugh.

“Not that there would be anything wrong with that,” he said.

“Yeah, but your cock’s in me, and you love it, so you’re obviously not gay,” I told him.

“You’re sure right that I love when my cock is in your pussy. It’s so tight and wet. It’s perfect,” he said.

“Your cock is perfect in it,” I said. “It fills me up completely. I feel you all the way inside me.”

I was physically turned on, but emotionally, I was touched in a different way. I couldn’t believe he hadn’t been with anyone else but me. I realized how hard it must have been to deal with everything that had happened. How he had never stopped loving me or giving up hope, even when he had wanted to and probably had tried very hard to.

Brian started moving, pulling out and pushing back into me. His hips bucked as he picked up speed. His face was riddled with concentration as he nailed me harder and harder, and I cried out. He slammed into me, hard, and it was what I wanted. Somewhere, the barriers had fallen away. Being careful had gone out of the window.

We were fucking on his couch, and it was what I wanted. I wanted him hammering into me, his body covering mine, his face so close to my ear I could hear him grunting.

It was better than anything I’d ever imagined. It was real. Brian kissed me again, his hips still bucking, and a hunger washed over me like I’d never felt before. I wanted him to fuck me harder, still. I was searching for something. I didn’t know what. And I wanted him to drive me to it.

It was hands down the sexiest thing I’d ever done or imagined. That I could remember, anyway.

And it was with Brian, the one guy that seemed to never give up on me.