Crazy for Loving You: A Bluewater Billionaires Romantic Comedy(79)

He doesn’t roll his eyes or grit his teeth, which is almost worse.

Instead, he cups my head. Smooths my hair back. Steps closer. “You could make yourself feel good in so many other ways. Drugs. Alcohol. Sex. But you choose to do it with random acts of kindness. And taking care of a baby that isn’t yours. And making the world a better place. How often do you get drunk? Really drunk? Because I’ve been here close to a month, and I haven’t seen it. Haven’t flown in any men from Europe or Australia to scratch an itch either. You could’ve been just like your cousin, tearing down everything and everyone publicly, but you don’t. You let three dozen kids into your house to paint your walls with artwork most of the world would’ve called graffiti. You think to buy coffee and donuts for other people. You’re not a selfish asshole. You’re a good person with a big heart and a shitty family if they’ve never told you how amazing you are.”

“You shouldn’t put me on a pedestal. I’m going to let you down.”

“People fuck up, Daisy. It’s what makes us human. Hell, I’m gonna let you down too. But you know what? I’ll forgive you. We’ll learn. We’ll move on. And we’ll be fine.”

Oh, fuck.

Oh, fuck on a roller coaster. Actually—fucking on a roller coaster could be fun. Except not when my heart’s about to fully unleash itself and take off on the joy ride of its life.

Is it possible to fall in love with a man when you’re not watching? Because I’m fairly certain I am head over heels in love with this man standing here telling me I matter.

Not for my name.

Not for my bank account.

But for every little thing I’ve ever done in my life.

This man—he’d treat me like a queen even if I were broke and living in that box in the Everglades. He could sue me for full custody, but he believes in me.

I suck in a big breath and turn back to the wall, hit the secret lever, and slip through to my bedroom.

Set the window and door alarms while West sighs heavily behind me.

I know that sigh.

It’s the sigh of a man who knows that he’s had his last moment with Daisy Carter-Kincaid.

In West’s case, he’s wrong.

So wrong.

I kiss Remy softly on the head and gently put him in the bassinet in the corner of my room that he’s outgrowing too quickly, then turn back to the secret door to my library, still open.

“West?”

He looks up from running a hand through his thick hair. “Hm?”

“I’m going to jump your bones.”

His eyes flare wide, and then a slow smile creeps over his face while I stalk to him. “Are you?”

“I am.”

“Tonight?”

“Right now.”

He gestures to my body. “While you’re wearing that?”

The shirt peels off in a flash, and that thick ridge I felt beneath me while I was in his lap on the chair leaps to attention, tenting his black shorts. “Better?”

“Fuck, Daisy,” he whispers hoarsely. His gaze jumps from my eyes to my bare breasts and back again.

“Not your first glimpse, Mr. Jaeger,” I remind him as I slip my arms around his shoulders and arch my back, putting my belly against his hard-on. “But if you want me to put it back on—”

A groan rumbles low in his throat, and he bends to capture my mouth while his hands slide up my sides to cup my breasts.

I shudder and press myself into his touch, because god, his hands are so perfect.

Rough skin. Firm touch. Dexterous thumbs.

He circles my nipples, and the sensation of another human being doing for me what I’ve had to do for myself for too long sends a jolt of lust pulsing between my thighs, and I’m suddenly climbing him like a monkey. “More,” I tell him. “Touch me more.”

He turns, carrying me while I dive deeper into this kiss, squeezing my thighs around him and rocking against his solid erection, his hands going to my ass, fingertips gripping my hamstrings so close to my core, digging in at the tops of my inner thighs, and I nearly spontaneously combust, because I love being touched.

Love it.

Love connecting. Love feeling. Love bliss.

But there’s a responsibility to this touch.

Giving myself to West isn’t about feeling good for an hour. It’s about letting him in.

He’s here.

In a room that not even Cam, Luna, and Emily have been in.

He knows I’m not perfect.

He knows so many of my secrets.

I want to know all of his.

And I want him to know they’re safe with me.

He drops to one knee, and I whimper when our bodies disconnect. “What—” I start, and then he’s lying me back on the fuzzy rug in front of my fireplace.

Thunder rumbles deep and low and long outside, reverberating through the walls while West slides down my body and sucks one pebbled nipple into his mouth.

“Oh, yes.” Fireworks explode in my soul. I gasp and grip his hair, holding him while he licks and sucks and nips at first one breast, then the other. I’m soaking through my pants, and my clit is hot and desperate. “Yes, yes, yes,” I chant while he feasts on my breasts and explores my ribs and my stomach with his hands. I hook my ankles around his back, and he suddenly chuckles.

“Not going anywhere, Daisy.” He strokes a hand down my thigh and makes every nerve ending in my body stand up and beg for his touch. “I’ve been fantasizing about touching you for—well, it feels like years.”