Call You Mine (The Baker’s Creek Billionaire Brothers #4) - Claudia Burgoa Page 0,47
have trouble getting places when she is older because her dear dad will say, “You’re too young.”
In just a couple of days, I’ll become a temporary citizen of Baker’s Creek. The moving company should be here on Friday morning to take my bed and some of my furniture. Once they leave, I’ll drive to Oregon.
I stare at the cardboard boxes leaning against the wall. I still have to pack. Maybe I should do it while taking a break from doing more research.
That sounds better than wondering if I should practice kissing with someone other than Beacon.
Mmm…Beacon, I sigh.
Who knew he gives the best kisses in the world? Toe-curling-brand-your-heart. The last kiss he gave me before I left Baker’s Creek still plays in my head. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to find someone who kisses that good.
Where did he learn how to kiss like that?
What was I thinking when I said he should help me?
I wasn’t thinking.
It’s just our nature.
We are each other’s person.
He can call me at any time with any request, and I’m there for him. That goes both ways.
The bigger question is, what was he thinking when he agreed to go along with my request? Or when he kissed me? Or when we almost…I swear that felt as if he was about to claim me. There are nights when I wish he had done just that. Other times, I hear a little voice saying, “This is a bad idea. You’re going to lose him.”
Still, I can’t help but think about the what ifs. I even imagined what he will do to me as things progress between us. We had sex twice when we were young. Both times were sweet. He was so careful. I don’t have any complaints about it. But now, I don’t think I want that gentle, delicate love making guy. I want things to feel real.
Is it because of my reading material?
I’ve been reading some erotica as part of accomplishing my list. When I was reading Never Kissed by a Duke—my first erotic literature—I couldn’t help but imagine Beacon as the Duke. During that scene when Antoine was taking Lady Beth in his arms and fusing his lips with hers, the emotions I felt when he kissed me came back in full force, crashing against my chest. They made my pulse accelerate. My core ached with need, just like the narrator described.
I was agonizing, wanting for Beacon to be close. Oh, how I wished he was sucking on my ample bosom just like the book described. Confession time. I touched myself and came really hard while reading how Antoine drove his hardness inside Lady Beth’s sweet heaven.
It’s funny how they refer to the privates, but the scenes are so intense I don’t have time to fixate on that. All I want is to reach a high and release some of the pent-up frustration I’ve accumulated since the last time I saw Beacon.
Now, that’s when a nagging voice comes to play. The one that says, “But Beacon is your best friend. He’s like your brother.”
But is he really?
I say it because he is as obnoxious as my brothers. Though my brothers aren’t as caring as he is. Beacon always watches over me, even when I can take care of myself.
We’ve never lived in the same household as brother and sister. We did as roommates during college. One of Dad’s friends leased us a brownstone in Brooklyn. We treated each other the same way we treated the rest of the guys. That’s not being sibling like, right?
Am I just finding excuses to justify the lust and forget that we grew up together?
He nags me like a big brother, but he’s never confirmed my statement that we’re like brother and sister. I should discuss that with him. I would never in a gazillion years flirt with a family member. I flinch in horror.
I text him. He needs to clarify our non-familial status.
Grace: Do you ever think of me as your sister?
Beacon: Never. Why would I do that?
Grace: I always say you’re like the big brother I never wanted.
Beacon: And I always have to remind you that I am not related to you.
I read his text twice. He is right. He always remarks that we’re in no way related. If anyone asks about me, he gives a vague explanation of why I’m with the band. I am a lot of things. His best friend. A family friend. I’m related to his agent. I’m his college roommate.