A Moment Like You (The Baker’s Creek Billionaire Brothers #2) - Claudia Burgoa Page 0,10
nothing to him? It’s not worth discussing what happened on the top of the roof or have me sign one of his stupid dating contracts.
“Time to go upstairs,” he murmurs. “You and your friend celebrated…a lot.”
Celebrated is incorrect, but let’s go with that. Leyla and I were having a pity party while her estranged husband openly flirted with one of Blaire’s friends and Henry had disappeared.
I search for Leyla, but she’s not around.
“Where is she?”
“Pierce took her home,” he answers. “I think we should do the same.”
I chuckle. “I don’t have a home. Sure, I live in the penthouse of a luxurious hotel in the heart of Manhattan, but can I call it home?”
“How drunk are you?”
I reposition myself so we can be face to face. The golden flecks in his green eyes glisten with the flame of the candles set on the tables. This would be so romantic, but it makes me feel lonely.
“I don’t need to be drunk to tell you how I see the world,” I respond. “You complain about having brothers and living in a mansion with all of them. I bet it’s ten times better than being in New York, alone.”
“Do you need new housing accommodations?” His question infuriates me, and before I can snap, he says, “You live in the presidential suite of one of the best hotels in the world—for free—and you’re lamenting your luck. What else could you possibly need?”
“First of all, it’s not free. I work my ass off for you and your company. I earn my living. Pets aren’t allowed,” I complain. “Not that I could take care of one. Between my parents and you, I don’t have time for…anything. Do you have any idea when was the last time I went out on a date?”
“Let’s head to your room,” he insists, helping me stand up and then with my jacket.
“This is a new jacket,” he states. “I’m guessing you bought it along with the dress and those lacy shoes?”
I smirk and whisper, “The manager at Chanel called me Thursday. They had a new line and I couldn’t resist. Everything matches. The purse, the shoes…” I whisper, “and the lingerie.”
He gasps, his lips part, and he stares at me with an expression I can’t identify, but how I wish it was hunger.
“You’re going to be the death of me, Ms. Aragon.”
I could be a lot of things. What would it be to add lover to my duties?
“Definitely drunk,” he confirms as we walk toward the elevator.
“No,” I insist.
He shakes his head. “If you were sober, you wouldn’t be blurting nonsense.”
As we step onto the elevator, he presses the button of the top floor.
“So, would you rather be at a house than the presidential suite?” he questions.
I glance at him and shake my head. “I would rather not be lonely. What’s the point of having so much when you have no one to share it with?”
He crosses his arms and crooks his eyebrow.
“Sorry,” I apologize because once those words leave my mouth, I realize that I am describing his life.
“Why is it that my family and you think that my life is pathetic?” he grunts and stops the elevator, pushing me to a corner. His arms on each side of my body, caging me. “My life is different. This is all I know. I. Am. Content. With. It.”
“But are you happy?” I question. “Do you really have everything you desire?”
Heat climbs upon my body. My cheeks flush after I blurt the word desire. Maybe he’s right. I’m drunk, because all I can think about is the kiss we shared.
What am I doing?
He reaches out and strokes my burning face with his fingertips. “I always get what and who I want.”
Henry slides his hand under my chin, lifting it.
“Longing is an unknown word to me, because once I wish for something, I make it my mission to own it,” he says, his thumb caressing my bottom lip.
His penetrating eyes watch me with the desire he claims not to have. A longing as deep as mine.
I straighten my shoulders and give him a challenging glare, “Why the restraint?”
“With you? That’s something I keep asking myself every day,” he responds. “Listen, I don’t force people to accept me. Being Henry Aldridge isn’t easy. I have conditions, limits, and rules to protect myself. Sometimes I just take what I want and move on.”
He twists my long hair with one hand, pulling it down and kissing my exposed neck. “With you, I don’t want to just