Defying Our Forever (The Baker’s Creek Billionaire Brothers Book 3)

by Claudia Burgoa

  “I do love cows,” I confirm. “Horses are my favorite farm animals, followed by chickens. Now about my eating habits, there’s a list.”

  “A list?” he questions. “Please, I’m on the edge of my seat waiting for you to confirm that I’m right.”

  “Well, for starters, I don’t eat pork, but I like bacon and ham.”

  “You’ve never eaten a good pork chop,” he claims. “So, you’re not vegetarian, but I bet you don’t eat steak either.”

  I arch an unamused eyebrow and continue, “I like steak, but I won’t eat hamburgers. I don’t like the feel of ground meat. It’s weird.”

  “You’re quirky.”

  “I’m proudly quirky,” I corroborate.

  Pierce pours us wine and takes out some menus. “Okay, we need to feed you. How about some Ethiopian food? Do you like to eat with your fingers?”

  “Yes,” I reply. “Are you good with your fingers?”

  He shows me his hands, wiggles his fingers, and smirks. “I’m excellent. Do you need a demonstration?”

  He places his big hands on top of the kitchen counter. They are long, and I bet they could reach deep, deep inside me if I allow myself to play with him for the night.

  “Nah, I’m pretty sure it’s boring to watch a man type or… What else do you do with those?” I question innocently.

  “You like to play coy, don’t you?”

  “You said it earlier. It’s the lack of self-preservation. A part of my brain sometimes shuts down and doesn’t care much about consequences,” I confess, not sure why I’m babbling at him. I can’t even blame the wine because I haven’t even taken a sip of it. “Some days, I curl up into a ball to avoid getting hurt and others… I don’t know.”

  He looks at me and says, “I like you, Leyla. If we’re honest, I’ve wanted to kiss you since I stepped into the animal hospital. The problem I see is that you seem like the girl who’d want me to meet her parents.”

  I can’t help but burst into laughter. “Obviously you don’t know me, or you wouldn’t say that. So, what kind of women do you kiss?”

  He studies me for a couple of beats before answering, “I usually hook up at bars—on Saturdays. I have a hotel ready for the night and never exchange phone numbers. I feel like if we do more than flirt—”

  “I’ll invite you to Sunday dinner with Mom and Dad?” I laugh, and I’m not sure if it’s to avoid crying or because this is too funny. “Lucky for you, my parents are dead. There won’t be an awkward invitation.”

  His eyes open wide, and I’m pretty sure he’s uncertain how to react. Should he drive me home? Offer me his condolences, or… This is why I avoid people. The questions begin, the looks of pity follow, and stupid comments end what could’ve been good.

  “You have to stop looking at me like that,” I warn him. “Any chance of letting you kiss me might be gone pretty soon.”

  “I’m sorry, I just”—he runs a hand through his hair—“I feel like an insensitive asshole.”

  I wave my hand casually as if it doesn’t matter.

  “It’s okay, really,” I assure him.

  But it’s not okay.

  Not this week. This is why I’ve been working for more than 24 hours, why I chose to come to his house. Why I don’t want to be alone. If he were to stab me today, I would not care. I might actually be thankful because it’s over.

  “Still, I didn’t mean to—”

  “They died years ago. I’m fine,” I insist.

  Which is a total lie, but people choose to ignore the truth. I’ll never be fine, and today is worse than other days. It’s my mother’s birthday.

  “After the awkward little piece of information, let’s keep going with you wanting to kiss me, and your finger skills are…you never described them.”

  He clears his throat, “So, if anything happens tonight between us?”

  I chuckle, “Aren’t we a little cocky, Mr. Aldridge.”

  “Wait, you just told me to… Are you playing with me?”

  “I might,” I answer, taking a sip of the wine. “How good are you at making me forget this awkward conversation and anything that happened before I met you?”

  His piercing eyes lock my gaze to his.

  You should leave, Leyla, I think as he takes off his jacket and unbuttons the first three buttons of his shirt.

  You should definitely go right about now, I repeat as he marches toward me.

  But I can’t move. I don’t think I’m breathing as I watch him towering over me. His eyes are pinning me down.

  “Are you sure about it?” he whispers so close to my ear that his breath’s warmth makes my entire body shiver.

  I nod lightly, hypnotized by his stare. My breathing is becoming shallow, and he hasn’t even touched me.

  He nudges my chin up with his thumb, and then he runs it along my lips. Slowly, he bends closer. The feel of his mouth almost touching mine makes me gasp.

  He raises an eyebrow, “You are impatient, aren’t you?” He kisses the corner of my lip, and I try to catch his mouth, but he moves away.

  Laughing, he bends and kisses the other side. “I think we’re going to have a lot of fun tonight.”

  “We are?” I ask, reaching the back of his neck and pulling him to me. I’m not going to wait for him to toy with me.

  He smiles right before our mouths meet, and sparks fire between us. The heat, his scent, and the intoxicating taste of this guy hit me like cocaine laced with meth. I’m unable to think of anything further than the feel of his hands as they slide along my body. The way he devours me has my heart drumming hard against my ribcage.

  This isn’t just a friendly kiss.

  It’s so much more.

  It has the right balance of fire, sweetness, and lust.

  This kiss combines the tenderness of a first kiss with the hunger of a long-lost lover who finally found his soulmate.

  I never want it to finish, but I also want to push him away and run. I’m afraid he’ll disappear once this is over, and I’ll miss this moment for the rest of my life.

  I’ll miss him.

  But how can I miss someone I’ve never met?

  The same way you can feel like you arrived home when you’ve never seen this guy before.

  My heart stops because I don’t believe in sweet fairy tales, only the dark ones. But I want to believe in us.

  This is why you should never be with a guy when you’re at your lowest. What if I fall in love? Then what are my choices? Go home and let the memories plague me, or stay and…

  Chapter Three

  Pierce

  This is one of those moments in life where you have to say fuck the rules. I could pretend she’s just another nameless, forgettable woman.

  That’s impossible.

  Leyla is different from anyone I’ve ever met. Her mouth fits perfectly with mine. I kiss her hungrily because I can’t get enough of her tangy sweetness, but I’m gentle because I’m afraid to break her.

  There’s ambiguity about what’s happening between us that has me shutting down my brain or else I’ll stop everything at once, and then what? I have to see where this goes. This… I’ve been fucking women since I was sixteen, but never like this. This feels different. Everything about her feels extraordinary.

  I have the urge to touch her skin, explore her body. Take this to a whole different level. I slide my hands down to her hips, pull up the hem of her t-shirt, and drag her t-shirt up and over her head, breaking our kiss.

  She sucks in a breath and stares at me.

  I freeze because this is the moment where she might stop me and rush out of my apartment. It’d be the most logical thing to do. But if she does, I’ll wonder about her for the rest of my life. This kiss will haunt me for eternity.

  Her eyes confuse me.

  There’s hunger, vulnerability, pain, and hollowness.

  Such a beautiful creature shouldn’t be in so much pain.

  Whoever hurt her should pay. I can’t hunt ghosts of the past
, but I can help her forget for tonight. She asked if I could erase everything before she met me.

  I don’t know if I can, but I know that I can try my damnedest to at least give her a night that she’ll never forget.

  “There’s still time to stop,” I say.

  She stares at me for two long beats before she smiles.

  I lean forward and kiss the corner of her mouth.

  “You like to tease,” she mumbles.

  “And I think it’ll be fun to tease you,” I respond as her tongue slips over my lip. “I want to see you flustered. Maybe tied up while I taunt you with my mouth and my hands.”

  She grips my hair, forcing me to stay still, and her lips press against mine. Our kiss becomes desperate. Her breathing becomes shallow as she grinds her hips against my slacks. My length swells against her pelvic bone. She’s perfect in a way that I can’t pass up, and I’m fucking thankful that she didn’t stop me.

  One night.

  This is all I get with her.

  I don’t waste any time and reach for her jeans, undo the button, and unzip her. She undresses me too. She wears a white cotton bra and a pair of pink panties with pretty bows. And fuck if she isn’t the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen in my entire life, and she’s not wearing some expensive lingerie from some exclusive brand.

  “You’re beautiful,” I say.

  “Don’t sweet talk me. I’m already here,” she argues.

  “It’s the truth, and I’m not doing it for your benefit,” I claim. “We’re doing this my way. I’m in charge.”

  Her eyes turn slightly wild.

  I lift her by her hips. “Lace your legs around my waist,” I order, and we go up to the loft where my bed is. I place her in the middle of the bed and look at her.

  Her face is flushed. Her eyes shine with lust.

  Other than her name, I don’t know anything about her, but I have the feeling she doesn’t let people in easily, just like she doesn’t trust much. I take this moment as a gift.

  I kneel in front of her, pulling her legs so her ass is by the bed’s edge. I press a kiss on the inside of her thigh as my fingers reach for the elastic of her underwear and pull them down her soft legs. My fingers trail up once they are off, and they stop right before I find her bare core.

  “What do you want, Leyla?” I ask as her chest heaves with desperation.

  “Touch me,” she whispers, her breath ragged.

  I run my mouth along her left thigh and blow air right at her entrance. She moans, thrusting her hips up in the air. I push myself up and move my hand to the back of her neck. “There are so many things I want to do to you, and I’m not sure where to start.”

  My hand goes along her collar bone, then lower to her breasts. I press a kiss over her neck right as I unfasten her bra.

  Just like I thought, perky, small, and suckable. I pinch the left one as I draw the other breast into my mouth, sucking her gently. I glide my hand down her body, touching her between her legs. I rub her clit with my thumb while my middle finger slides down her wet folds finding her entrance.

  She whimpers and moans, and I thrust another finger. My mouth moves from her breast to her mouth because I want to drink her pleasure as I make her come for the first time.

  “Fuck me,” she says. “I need you. This isn’t distracting enough. I want…”

  To forget whatever it is that’s going on inside her mind. She needs to fill that void. I shove my boxer briefs down. I reach over for the box of condoms I left on the nightstand earlier today. I tear one open, sliding it over my length. I press her knees wide. Her thighs part, opening to me.

  Grabbing my cock with one hand, I thrust myself inside her. Her eyes close, but I order her to open them. “Stay with me, Leyla!”

  I kiss her, and I’ve never kissed anyone with my eyes open. It’s wild, if not crazy, to see yourself through another person as you’re trying to… What the fuck is it that I’m doing with her?

  Trying to fill the void in her soul.

  Spark some light into the darkness that she harbors.

  It’s not about being inside her anymore and making me feel good for one moment. It’s a lot more than just seeking release. It feels as if we’re absorbing each other. Connecting the dots I didn’t believe existed. Forming something different from two people who didn’t know each other into just one.

  Her and me. Me and her.

  The harder I kiss her, the faster I drive into her, the more sparks fly between us. Her throaty moans, her walls spasming around me, and the wild beating of her heart are pushing me to the edge faster than I anticipated. This, we could do this all night. I can tie her up. I can fuck her from behind. Whatever she needs from me, just to see those eyes shine.

  The lightning from the storm we’re creating flashes faster, and the thunder is louder. Pressure begins to build in my stomach. Heart pounding and body shaking, I come at the same time her breath hitches in her throat, and she milks my cock. I don’t stop looking at her.

  Her eyes stare back at me with a new life and a brighter light.

  I want to hold on to it, onto her.

  Never before have I thought I had something to offer, but tonight I feel like there’s a part of me that can give her what little I have. Whatever she wants.

  Chapter Four

  Leyla

  What have I gotten myself into?

  I shy away from feelings. I’m not sure if it’s to keep others safe from me or the other way around. Ultimately, I only trust animals; dogs and horses above all the others. After all, dogs descended from wolves. They are my favorite, even when they are misunderstood.

  Wolves are extremely intelligent, very social, and super affectionate. My favorite facts are that they mate for life and sacrifice themselves for the survival of the pack.

  My dream is to one day be normal enough to find my forever mate. To have a family—my pack. For now, I am what some call a lone wolf. Which is, of course, just a figurative term for seeking the meaning of life. In my case, it is more like searching for peace. If I stayed, it would be because of the dog, but here I am in some stranger’s house feeling as if I just handed my soul over to him.

  Which is wrong. I’m not ready to have a long-lasting relationship with him or anyone. But as I stare at the intense gaze of Pierce, I want to stay in his embrace forever. The sadness weighing me down earlier is gone.

  My stomach chooses that moment to growl. The moment is gone, and I realize that it’s time for me to leave.

  He can take care of the dog, right?

  “Is pizza okay?” he asks as I’m searching for my clothes.

  He hands me a t-shirt and says, “We’ll find your clothes later. Why bother getting dressed when we’re just taking a break to feed you.”

  “I should leave,” I say, staring at the black shirt in his hand.

  “But we’re just warming up,” he claims, actually putting the shirt on me. “Come on. We’ll order whatever you want. We can check on the pup, and then we’ll come back to my room.”

  Here’s the ambiguity of the situation. I don’t want to be alone tonight, but it feels like if I stay with him, I won’t want to leave him—ever. I’ll most likely be so hung up on him that he’ll serve me with a restraining order.

  “Listen—”

  He brushes my lips with his and says, “You’re running away.”

  I lift my gaze and find him studying me meticulously, as if counting the freckles on the bridge of my nose or trying to figure out why I’m about to jet off from this place.

  “It’s one night.” His voice is quiet but firm. “We owe it to ourselves to see this night through, find out how far we can go. We owe it to Buster too.”

  I swallow because he’s using the one thing I can’t say no to, the dog. I did promise I’d help him find a forever home for Buster. I owe him that much, but what is it that we owe to ourselves? Discovering how good it can be between us? I think we have already established that. It was ardent, passionate, and unparalleled to anyt
hing I’ve experienced before. Exploring if there’s more than what we unraveled might be futile—for me.

  For him, it might mean just another Saturday night with some random woman he picked up at a bar.

  “Sounds like a sex-a-thon,” I try to lighten up the intensity of this conversation. “I’m sure you have those weekly.”

  He shakes his head. Those eyes, that I swear keep searching for something inside, hold me in place. “Don’t do that. Don’t cheapen what just happened to us because you’re afraid of it. Let your wild side take over, Leyla.”

  “I’m sure you can find someone to make it even better next time,” I joke.

  His jaw twitches. “Stop!”

  “What is it that I’m doing?” I ask, not sure if I want to provoke him or want him to make me stay. “Not obeying? I’m not a child or a puppy to train.”

  “Deflecting,” he answers with an angry voice. “You want to escape us.”

  He’s right, and the way he’s talking to me makes me panicky and giddy all at the same time, which is precisely why I should walk away and never turn back.

  Did I like what happened between us?

  I loved it so much I want to remain in the sex-hazed fog, which is wearing off pretty fast.

  I need more of him.

  A lot more.

  I hate to compare this to the time I tried ecstasy. It was a one-time thing. Wrong place, wrong crowd, and a lousy year pushed me to say, “Why not.”

  It was one of the best and worst nights of my life. For a minute, I felt like nothing could ever hurt me. I was invincible. After the effect was gone, I wanted to die. It’s an experience I never want to repeat. I could bet my life that if I stay for the entire night, it’s going to take me a long time to recover, or I’ll come back for more.

  He steps closer to me. I take a step backward, and suddenly my back is touching the wall. His big hands take mine, and one of them clamps on my wrists. He lifts my hands over my head, pinning them to the wall. His body is pressed against mine, and his mouth captures mine.