Crazy for Loving You: A Bluewater Billionaires Romantic Comedy(38)

I’m complicated like that.

“Probably a good idea to not let him see you right now,” he finally says, “but if you think you get to have an allergic reaction to get out of overnight duty, you better be prepared to lose custody of the kid.”

Oh, fuck.

He went and said the only thing worse than telling me I’m beautiful.

And I’m nothing if not impulsive.

Which is technically my excuse for what I do next, even if I would’ve done it anyway.

I’m impulsive like that.





Seventeen





West



One minute, I’m insulting Daisy’s appearance, and the next, she’s leaping into the air, wrapping her arms and legs around me, and pressing a hard kiss to my lips.

My dazed brain registers plump breasts pressed to my chest, curvy thighs nestled against my cock, a luscious ass in my hands—because yes, of course I’m going to catch her—and the sweet Kool-Aid taste of her lips, and my balls whoop and holler and ask someone to hold their beer.

I’m not going to kiss her back—except suddenly I am, because even while being so pissed at her for everything from Becca to the allergic reaction, I’m so fucking grateful she’s okay.

And now I’m slanting my lips against hers while relief courses through me that she’s alive and kicking and breathing, while simultaneously being pissed as hell that no one in her household would tell me how she was doing.

I’m going to kiss her until she never leaves me hanging and uncertain while she’s being rushed to an emergency room again.

That…made a lot more sense when my nuts said it.

She parts her lips and her tongue dives into my mouth and holy sweet fuck, is there anything she doesn’t throw herself into full-throttle?

I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t attractive as hell that she’s leaping into this motherhood thing without an ounce of complaint. And I barely know her, except this whole co-guardianship thing—it’s making me learn her fast.

That’s what I’m talking about! my nuts crow. Hump her! Hump her naked!

Christ.

I can’t make out with Daisy.

I’m only here to help her get custody of Remington. And apparently to piss her grandmother off. That striptease thing the other night was a joke from the universe that usually gives me window seats and green lights, and I need to remember my place.

My purpose.

Which is for a kid to get a good home with his family, not for me to have a weekend fling with a partying heiress who suddenly seems like so much more.

I wrench myself out of the kiss.

Wide, bloodshot eyes blink at me like she forgot where she was.

Or who she was kissing.

Impossible. We’re experts and unforgettable, my balls tell me.

Fuckers need to shut up.

She blinks once more, then she smacks me lightly in the shoulder.

“Don’t you dare use sarcasm to flirt with me again,” she orders, but there’s a twinkle in her eye that spells out D-O-O-M.

Specifically, mine.

She’s still gripping my hips with her thighs like I’m the pole and she’s the dancer, and it’s affecting my pole.

Blue.

Her eyes are blue.

“I’m not flirting with you,” I tell her.

“Yes, you are.”

I have to clear my throat to get rid of that frog suddenly croaking inside it. “No, I’m not. By the way, I told your grandmother we got married.”

“Did she have a stroke and die?”

“No.”

“That’s probably good, because a stroke or a heart attack would only make the dark powers inside her stronger. Also, you don’t tell someone’s grandmother you got married if you’re not planning to flirt with them. And you should flirt with me. It would make Becca extremely jealous.”

My jaw clenches, my ass bunches, and I’d curl my fingers into fists if they weren’t already digging into Daisy’s butt cheeks. “I don’t want to flirt with Becca,” I grit out.

She smiles. “And you’re welcome for me helping you figure that out.”

“Do not set me up with anyone ever again.”

Her smile gets bigger.

Fuck, she’s pretty when she smiles. Even with her face blotchy and shiny and still slightly swollen, and her eyes bloodshot, and her bright red hair lopsided and frizzy in its ponytail.

I’d blame sleep deprivation, but I got by just fine in my twenty sleep-deprived years in the military without fantasizing about any of the female Marines I occasionally came into contact with, which means whatever’s going on here is bad. “You need to get off me.”

“But we’re married.”

“That was a story.”

“You don’t strike me as the story type.”

“I’m full of surprises.”

“Or maybe my grandmother drove you to it, or maybe I’m rubbing off on you.”

She’s definitely rubbing against me. “If this temporary situation is going to work, we need boundaries.”

“Ah, there’s the Marine talking. I’ve been thinking. Normally, I don’t get involved with locals—you’ll understand when you meet my mother—but I think there’s a reason people have so much sex when they have babies. It’s a natural chill pill. So if you’re not having sex with Becca, and I’m not having sex with anyone else in Miami, then we should work off some steam while we wait for the legal dust to settle.”