Call You Mine (The Baker’s Creek Billionaire Brothers #4) - Claudia Burgoa Page 0,54
by the end of the month. The more things she adds to it, the longer she’ll stay.
Let’s just hope she understands me when I tell her about my primary duty.
Fuck, I’m doomed.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Grace
“We’re here, sleepyhead.” Beacon’s deep, breathy voice wakes me up.
The same voice that in my dream was whispering naughty things in my ear after a lengthy kiss. He had his long, strong, tattooed arms wrapped around my waist.
When I open my eyes, I meet his hot, heavy gaze. His eyes are lit with passion, just like in my dream. This time, when his lips crash down on mine, it’s real. His tongue sweeps the bottom of my mouth, and I open it for him. Our tongues dance to a slow, tender waltz that becomes an intense samba. Sometimes I forget how this man can switch rhythms and loves to play with them.
He’s like his art. Whimsical, chaotic, and temperamental. And sometimes his magic makes me feel a little too much. How I wish I could stay in his embrace forever, making beautiful music. This is the first time I realize that our kisses are on a different level. Even when they aren’t long and deep, there’s a desire lingering under that sucks me into a vortex of want.
I want him to touch me.
I want him to tear off my clothes.
I want so much more of him.
“Beacon,” I moan, pleading him to, “Touch me.”
“Not here.”
“Please,” I beg.
“You know I’d do anything for you—except that.”
I pull away from him, but he holds me in place. His deep, penetrating gaze locks with mine. There’s a fire in those green eyes—the flames threaten to burn me. I want him to sear me with the heat. So why is it that he won’t touch me?
“Not here, in public,” Beacon whispers, leaning closer to me and running his lips along the shell of my ear. “You have no fucking idea how much I want to do it.”
I can hear it in his voice, the—“But?”
“We’re going to have to wait.”
“Until we arrive in Baker’s Creek?”
“No.” His lips travel along my neck. He places a gentle kiss on my collarbone. “It’ll happen when we’re ready.”
I’m ready!
“Ready for what?” I ask, taking a long deep breath.
What is he waiting for? For me to melt into a puddle of need. I’m there. I’ve been waiting for this since he kissed me three weeks ago. I’ve been prepping myself and fantasizing about him every night. I want his long fingers touching every inch of my skin. Fucking me the way I’ve been doing it myself because he’s not close.
And he wants to wait longer.
You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me, Aldridge!
He lifts his shoulder with an unapologetic shrug. “I want this to be perfect, G. Dates, flowers, and slow dances. I promised to make this unforgettable.”
“What’s going to happen in the end?”
He caresses my jaw with the back of his hand, those green eyes looking at me tenderly. How can they switch so fast from loving, to burning passion, to indifference? This version of Beacon is confusing.
“Maybe we can figure out a way to keep it going,” he answers. “Melodies are everlasting. Maybe we can create one that will be timeless. Eternal. Or this is just a tune we play once during a concert that we’ll always remember. I don’t have an answer yet.”
I don’t understand why it is that my heart hurts when he hints that there’s an end. I doubt I’ll be able to go back to the way things were between us where kisses, caresses, and those loving gazes never existed.
But what if I fall so hard that I won’t be able to breathe without him?
He kisses my forehead. “There you go, worrying about things that’ll never happen.”
“What are you talking about?”
“No matter what happens after this, I’ll still be by your side.” His assuring voice makes the weird dread that was overtaking me dissipate.
“You promise?”
“I swear,” he states, and I can breathe with ease. “Now, let’s go and have our first real date.”
“Because we’ve had fake dates before?” I joke.
He looks at me and shrugs. “Many, many friend dates.”
What are friend dates? Seriously, when did we go out on a friend date? As far as I’m concerned, we’ve never gone out. I am about to ask about this new development, but the sight of a tall building with the Merkel Hotels & Spas logo stops me. Henry’s business.
“So, where are we going?” I ask as I climb down from the SUV.