voice that makes me feel like everything is possible.
“What if this ruins our friendship?”
“Nothing can ruin it,” he assures me. “I’m yours forever, remember?”
My heart stops because he’s always told me that before, but the way he says it now, it feels more than I’m your friend forever.
Maybe he’s right. I’m overthinking everything.
“Learn to talk dirty.” He laughs, moving on to the next point. “It’s right next to push away your inhibitions and stop being an introvert.”
“What is so funny about them?”
He starts coughing. “I volunteer to figure out number five. Actually, we should dedicate an entire week to do that.”
I frown and check my phone because I can’t remember what number five is, and when I see it, I gasp. Finding my G-spot.
My heart is about to jump out of my chest, and I’m not even sure if it’s panic or lust.
“We’re not kissing or having sex,” I make everything clear.
“Kissing is necessary.” He taps his phone. “As a musician, you know that the difference between ordinary and extraordinary is practice.”
“Stop involving music in this conversation, Aldridge.”
He smirks. “That’s our language. It’s the best way we can communicate.”
I stare at him for a couple of beats. There’s a lot involved in that sentence. So much I don’t want to think about because then I’ll have to analyze every note, lyric, and melody we’ve played separately and together.
To stop myself from evaluating this any further, I warn him, “I might say yes to the kisses, but there won’t be sex involved.”
“Unless”—he licks his lips—“you ask nicely.”
“Beacon Kirk Aldridge, we’re not having sex,” I insist.
“We’re not half-assing this, Grace,” he answers. “You know I’m all in or nothing.”
He takes my hands, lifting them to his mouth and kissing my fingers gently, softly. It feels like a feather caressing my skin.
His green eyes look at me, pointedly. “How’s it going to be, Gracie?”
He takes my face in his hands. Slowly, leaning down his mouth, almost touching mine. I’m holding my breath, staring at his lips. Wishing he’d kiss me. This is a bad idea. But the irrepressible desire to be devoured by his mouth is bigger than the reluctance.
“Are we going to compose this sonata? I promise it’ll be like Beethoven’s ‘Moonlight.’” His words are playing in my head, just like Beethoven’s Sonata. No. 14, my favorite.
“You promise nothing will happen to our friendship?”
“Do you trust me, G?”
“Always,” I answer. The desire coursing through my veins blinds my judgment.
His lips brush mine lightly. Mine part with the friction, expectant. He teases me a couple more times before his tongue licks my bottom lip.
His big hand rests on the back of my neck, the other tilts my chin, and he finally lowers his mouth to mine. He kisses me slow. Very quietly. It’s as if he’s playing a romantic sonata. Not precisely ‘Moonlight,’ but we’re following the rhythm. Beacon is the one dictating the pace. Slow, possessive, hungry.
It’s nothing like our first sloppy kiss, but it has just the same feel. A deep, sweet caress in my heart. A song that hasn’t been played in forever, but I knew it existed. I just didn’t want to remember it.
But I remember us.
Chapter Fourteen
Beacon
I don’t know if it was the alarm announcing someone entered, or that I couldn’t help myself and changed the kiss’s rhythm from slow to a fast tune. Something along the lines makes Grace jet off with the excuse of having to visit Arden and baby Carter.
Lang, Sanford, Manelik, and Fisher stare at the door for a couple of seconds before San gives me a weird look. “Did we miss something?”
I shake my head.
Mane, who is the most perceptive of the group, arches an eyebrow. “Seeing as she didn’t kill you, I’m guessing that you guys kissed and made up.”
Lang shakes his head. “How long did it take, twelve years?”
“About.” Fisher shrugs. “Maybe in twenty, he’ll ask us to help him pick out a ring.”
“We’re not discussing Grace,” I warn them.
“You never discuss her, but you’re always moping,” San complains. “Did you hear that she’s registering for a How to Date Bootcamp? If you don’t wise up, she’s going to be dating a real man and forgetting about you.”
So, Grace told them about her plan, huh? It doesn’t surprise me. They are her best friends too.
These guys know my deal with Grace. They’re my family. My brothers. There’s nothing I don’t tell them.
“She wants me to mentor her.” When I say it out loud, it sounds somehow ridiculous, because why would I