Call You Mine (The Baker’s Creek Billionaire Brothers #4) - Claudia Burgoa Page 0,80
kisses my knuckles. “I’m wondering what a guy has to do to get to number five.”
I snatch back my hand. “That’s personal.”
“I’ll make it personal to figure out what you need in and out of bed.” His intense voice shoots a dose of desire along my body.
“There are four items before that one,” I remind him, trying to control the lust.
“Kissing is a top priority. You’re improving, but we definitely need to keep going with the list.”
“I’m improving?” My voice comes out appalled.
“We are improving,” he corrects himself. “My theory is that kissing has to do with both parties. I don’t think I’ve ever kissed anyone the way I do you. Then again, I’ve never wanted anyone as I want you—ever.”
The feeling is mutual. Last night while we kissed, my mind worked hard to stay in the moment while my body wanted a lot more than just kisses and caresses.
“We’re practicing flirting,” he continues. “I think dirty talk could be included during those ‘search for the G-spot’ sessions. You can tell me how you want me to touch you. Maybe between your long, toned, beautiful legs. I bet you’ll be so wet and hot for me. Fuck, I can’t wait to mark you as mine. I’ll be deep inside you ordering you to come for me.”
The way he says those things, with a low, commanding voice, makes me hot. I want to reach between my legs and touch myself until I come. Better yet, I want him to do it with those long, calloused fingers of his.
“Tell me what you’re thinking, G,” he orders.
“I…”
“You want me?”
“Yes.” I almost moan.
“Say it. Tell me how you imagine me touching you. Do you want my cock in your mouth?”
I lick my lips and groan. “Yes, I want to feel it in my mouth, inside me.”
“If you’re a good girl, I’ll let you suck me dry.”
This is driving me crazy. I want him to park the car so he can touch me. Make the ache disappear and replace it with pleasure. I want to mount him and ride him.
The phone rings. It’s Henry. “Yo?”
“We need you at The Lodge,” he answers. Beacon grunts. “Kid, we need help with the lunch rush. I only have one waiter. Can you do this for me?”
“I can teach him how to do it, Henry. I used to wait tables back in college.”
Beacon glares at me.
“I owe you one, Grace. Thank you.” Henry hangs up the phone.
“G, I’m hard as a rock. I was hoping we’d go to my place and do something different. Not serve tables for the next couple of hours.”
I grin. “I could offer you a blow job, but it’s not on my list. Sorry.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Beacon
Having Grace in Baker’s Creek makes it harder for me to separate my life in Seattle and my life here. I learned to do that when I was a teenager. It was easier to convince myself that the brotherhood only lasted a week. Grace is forever.
The lines between one and the other become a total blur as the minutes pass. It’s like now I’m living in one reality that includes the life I couldn’t have and the one I was gifted. When I was a kid, I didn’t realize what my grandparents had given me: a big, loud, and loving family.
“Look at Henry. He’s smiling,” G says as we wait for our orders to be up. “I think he likes teaching you. Maybe he feels like he has a second chance to take care of you. You should give him a chance.”
“I love you, but you’re a pain in the ass, Bradley.” I kiss the top of her head when the chef says, “Order up.”
The lunch rush lasts until three. Henry doesn’t leave until there are only a few customers in the dining room.
“So much for ‘It’s Monday, it won’t be that bad,’” Grace says, taking off the black apron with The Lodge logo that Henry gave her when we arrived.
“It’s ski season,” I remind her. “This was quiet compared to what we get on Thursday or Friday. Let’s not talk about the weekend.”
Between the festivals, ski season, and the fame the restaurants are acquiring, the place is full from the time we open until midnight when we close. I have to give it to Henry. Without changing the name of The Lodge, the place has become a success.
Around four, when the shift ends, I send a message to the group chat.
Beacon: Taking my woman on a date. Don’t bother me.