Crazy for Loving You: A Bluewater Billionaires Romantic Comedy(86)

“No more of my cock until you say three nice things about your personality.”

Fuck, this is fun.

I dive off the trampoline and into one of the ball pits, and Daisy shrieks and comes bouncing after me, her breasts barely contained in that little black bra, her legs constricted by the skirt, but her cheeks are flushed and she’s laughing as she leaps like she’s drunk and finally lands in the massive ball pit with me.

“I have an awful singing voice but I sing anyway because it gives me joy, and I want other people with bad singing voices to know it’s okay,” she says.

I’m wading through the balls, diving like I’m in a pool, pretending I’m running from her. “Fine. We can count that one,” I concede with a grin.

“For that one, you should strip out of your shirt, because that was very big of me to admit. Most people think I think I could be the next Taylor Swift if I’d just take the time to get into a studio.”

“You’re too old to be the next Taylor Swift.”

Her eyes flare again, and then she falls over backward in the balls, laughing. “Oh my god, West. Just when I think you’re all honey drops and powdered sugar, you show your minty saltwater taffy side.”

“I’m only ninety-eight percent saint. But I suppose I can give you this.” I stand up straight, swing my hips like I’m dancing to bad music on a porn video, and make a show of lifting my shirt until I whip it the rest of the way off, swing it like a lasso over my head, and toss it to her.

Just like I wanted to the night we met.

She snags it and pulls it to her nose, and fuck, I’m full-mast again.

Her eyes go dark as she watches me. “I speak six languages,” she says. “But I’m self-taught, and I don’t actually trust myself to not accidentally tell someone I went down on his mother last night, so I only practice on staff I occasionally hire for part-time jobs to do my translations for me.”

I’m simultaneously aroused and heartbroken for her lack of confidence. “Which six?”

“English, pig Latin, pirate—”

I make a flying leap for her in the pit, and she shrieks, but she doesn’t move.

“Which six?” I repeat, trying to get a hold of her in the ball pit, which keeps shifting around us and making us both sink deeper inside it.

“English, French, German, Italian, Spanish, and Japanese.” She frowns while blue and yellow and red balls start to swallow her face, and then switches rapid-fire into several different accents. “I’ve also mastered pretending to be British, sometimes Canadian, eh, and g’day, mate, Australian is my favorite. Look at that. I’m holding your blue balls in my hands, eh?”

“You’re incredible. And also disappearing.”

She laughs, and I keep trying to grab her while we sink deeper and deeper into the cool, dark depths of the ball pit.

Her arm hooks around mine, and I realize we’ve hit the bottom.

“And I would do literally anything for Cam, Emily, and my Moon,” she whispers. “Bluewater is the only community I’ve ever developed outside my family’s properties, and it was so much fun. I wouldn’t have done it without them. So that’s not a nice thing about me. It’s a nice thing about them.”

“You go out of your way to make other people happy and to make them feel good about themselves.”

“Completely self-serving.”

“Liar.”

“Okay, fine. I’m compensating for the ugly. Because people deserve joy with their trials. Happy now?”

“Almost.”

I can’t see her clearly—the light’s dim at the bottom of a ball pit, but I find her nose with mine, and then I angle in for a kiss.

And she lets me.

It’s not an I want to rip your clothes off kiss.

It’s an I love you kiss.

The words scare me. I used them liberally in my younger years, and I always got burned. But Daisy—she’s so fucking easy to love.

Her big parts and her hidden parts.

“West?” she whispers.

“Hmm?”

“I’m very naked in here.”

I stroke a hand down her body, balls all around us, and holy fuck, she is.

Butt naked.

I press a trail of kisses to her jaw. “Where did that skirt go?”

“Oh, someone will find it eventually next time I have a party. We’ll call it a souvenir.”

“The fuck they will. It’s mine.”

She strokes a hand down my neck. Then my back. And lower, until she’s tugging my pants down again. “I like being yours.”

“You’re going to destroy me. You know that?”

“Never. You’re too special.” Her hand finds my cock, and she squeezes and strokes once, and I groan in sheer pleasure from having her hands on me. “I’m going to take care of you, Westley Jaeger. You wait and see.”

She strokes me again, and my head brushes the soft skin on her lower belly, those damn plastic balls filtering between us, and then her other hand joins in, except— “Fuck, yes,” I groan while she slides a condom down my length.

“I didn’t lose the important part,” she says, all cocky self-assurance that makes me laugh.

And then I’m sliding into her hot, slick pussy, and she’s gasping and chanting yes, more, there, and nothing—nothing—has ever felt as right as making love to Daisy in the middle of a ball pit.