A Moment Like You (The Baker’s Creek Billionaire Brothers #2) - Claudia Burgoa Page 0,56
kissing his jaw. “Stop. We’re in public.”
“Maybe both,” he answers nibbling my ear. “I can’t help it. You’re swaying your ass against my cock. I want to eat you, Ms. Aragon. Do you think they’ll notice if we go back to your house or the mansion?”
“Oh god, look at them. It’s disgusting. My best friend and your brother are dripping sweetness and exuding hormones. What could go wrong?” Leyla yells, but hopefully, only we can hear her.
She’s standing next to me. Behind her are Pierce and Mills, so I’m not sure who she is talking to.
“We saw this coming way before they realized it,” Blaire, who is to my right, says, leaning forward so we can hear her. “It’ll be fine, as long as he doesn’t hurt our friend. The odds are against Henry because I’ll dispose of him if she sheds one tear because of him.”
“Shh, you’re interrupting,” Pierce growls at us. “Leave Henry alone. It's his first steady girlfriend. If he’s good, he’ll get to second base by tonight.”
Henry grunts, but I kiss his nose and say, “We’ll get them later.”
It’s almost ten when we arrive at the mansion. Nobody is tired, so we stay in the living room drinking wine and chatting until midnight when Hayes announces he’s taking a sleepy Blaire to their room. Beacon’s bandmates head to his studio while Beac and Grace head to his room. Mills and Vance also excuse themselves and leave. It’s just Pierce, Leyla, Henry, and me cleaning the living room.
“Do you think they are just friends?” Pierce asks, picking up the empty bottles of wine.
I’m not sure what he’s talking about, but Beacon is coming from the stairwell and hisses, “No, we’re best friends, Pierce. If you don’t mind, I’m going to practice with the guys. G is staying in my room.”
“There’s your answer,” Henry says and looks at me. “Come on. Let’s go to my room.”
“As best friends or friends?” Pierce asks, and Henry flips him the finger.
“Hey, Sophia, do you want to stay with me,” I say, imitating a male voice while we climb the stairs. “Gosh, thank you for the invite, but it might be better if I go home.”
He looks at me unamused. “You’re crazy if you think I’m going to let you go. We’re sharing a bed, not fucking.”
“You promised it’d be slow,” I remind him.
“It’s a promise I intend to keep—unless you ask for more. Still, you’re just sleeping with me tonight,” he says as we enter his room.
This place isn’t too different from his brownstone’s bedroom. I guess it’s because I sent Blaire pictures of it while she was buying furniture to decorate the house. I’m about to ask him for a shirt when I remember that I need makeup remover and to wash my face. Since I’ve been staying on and off in the house, I know where they have the toiletries’ closet. Thankfully, they not only have basic soap and shampoo, but also makeup remover, moisturizer, and extra toothbrushes.
“Do you realize that they have this place stashed in case any of you invite the flavor of the day?” I ask Henry while we’re in his bathroom getting ready to go to bed.
“No one has a flavor of anything,” he argues, and asks, “Do you need a T-shirt?”
“T-shirt and a pair of boxers, please,” I request while I floss. “I’m just saying, the place is a semi-bachelor pad. Which makes me wonder why is it that you guys keep ignoring the women of the town?” I yawn.
“Personally? I’ve been ignoring women in general because I have you. Who cares about the rest when you’re in my life?” he says, and my heart flutters.
Who is this guy, and where is the asshole who used to occupy his body?
He moves the decorative pillows and folds the blanket while he continues explaining to me why it is that they are ignoring their admirers, “However, we all agreed that it’ll complicate our lives. If we talk to any of them, they are already wondering if we’ll propose. It’s a don’t crap where you eat kind of situation.”
“Because dating your assistant is…”
“Against everything I’ve been told, and yet, it feels so right,” he answers, taking my hand and pulling me onto the bed. “You feel right.”
“Slow,” I say, pushing myself against him and resting my head on the crook of his arm. “Even when you drive me crazy and I want to stab you, I do like you, Henry Aldridge—a lot.”