Page 67 of Roughing the Player
“Pervert.” I whisper against his mouth.
“Stick in the mud.” He kisses me and everything fades away. I’ve never been able to be this close to Brock and not melt.
“Oh, God, that’s just gross.” Kaylee.
Busted by my own daughter. I hide my flushed face against his shoulder.
Brock’s thumb strokes my throat as if to say, ‘Don’t worry. I got this.’ “Get used to it, kid. I just asked your mother to marry me. And she said “Yes.”
“I didn’t,” I whisper against his chest.
“Yeah, you did,” he murmurs right back.
“Uggh.” Kaylee clatters away, probably to hide in her bedroom again.
I glance up into his gorgeous face. “Told you she would be a hard nut to crack.”
His mouth quirks. “Guess what? So am I. Hard I mean.”
He lifts me off the counter.
But when he pulls me toward the hallway, panic sets in. “What are you doing?”
“Taking you to bed?”
I yank back and stop our progress. “With Kaylee in the next room? Are you insane?”
“Is that going to be a problem?”
“Yes!” How could he think I could have sex with my daughter only a few feet away?
“Then we’ll have to find a bigger house.”
Like hell, we will. “I’m not moving.” I might be willing to get married, but I’m not chucking my whole life for him.
