Page 60 of Crossed Up

I take her mouth in a slow, sensual kiss. Our tongues tangling together in a dance that feels so natural you would think we’d been doing it for years, not weeks.

We’re both breathless when I finally pull back, and I wrap one hand loosely around the front of her throat. “Good. Because you are my girl, and I’m ready to make sure the whole damned world knows it.”

The doorbell rings, interrupting our moment. “Do you want to start on breakfast? I’ll go let Cope in.”

I open the front door only for my surly best friend to shove his way past me, his face even stormier than usual and a small box ensconced in his hands. “Well, good morning, sunshine! What could we possibly have done to be graced with such a joyful disposition on this beautiful Wednesday?”

A vicious glare aimed my way is the only response to my sarcasm, and I have no doubt he would be flipping me off, too, if my son wasn’t bouncing our way.

“Uncle Cope!” he shrieks. His voice is pitched just so that the shrill sound has my ears ringing.

Copeland’s face brightens like it always does when he sees Crew, but the way his whole expression softens when he sees Lyla in the kitchen has white-hot jealousy roaring through my veins. Logically, I know I have nothing to worry about with either of them, but that doesn’t change the fact I want to throttle my best friend.

“Hey, tiny, how ya doin’?” He greets her with a hug, and my jaw drops. When the hell did these two get so friendly? “I found this bakery that does chocolate cherry cupcakes, and I couldn’t leave without grabbing you one.”

Lyla squeals with unrestrained joy and pulls Cope back in for an even tighter hug that has my shoulders tightening with tension.

I wonder if I’d be released from the team for strangling my friend over a cupcake.

Cope sees my murderous expression and snorts before leaning down to whisper in Lyla’s ear. A low grumble rattles in my throat, and she turns to me with surprise written all over her sweet face. He says something else too low for me to hear and gives her a gentle nudge in my direction before turning to the stove and taking over pancake duty.

Lyla approaches me slowly like I’m a cornered animal, but the second she’s in arms reach I yank her to me and growl in her ear. “He’s trying to get a rise outta me, and it’s fuckin’ working. I don’t care if he’s my best friend. Seeing another man’s hands on my girl has me wanting to bend you over and fuck you so hard the only name you’ll remember is mine.”

Her jaw drops, desire quickly turning her mossy green eyes a stunning shade of emerald. Small hands land on my chest, and my attention is drawn to the soft pink polish on Lyla’s fingernails. A vivid memory of those same fingernails wrapped around my cock last night flashes through my mind, forcing me to stifle a groan.

She lowers her voice to a murmur so low I can barely hear her. “Hmm. Are you sure your name is the one you want me to remember?”

I scoff, irritation flaring briefly, but she places her fingers over my mouth with a naughty smirk and yanks me down by the shirt so she can whisper in my ear. “Because if you bend me over and fuck me hard, do you want me to be screaming Aidan? Or do you want me screaming Daddy?”

There’s no chance of suppressing my pained groan this time, and she giggles before moving back to the kitchen.

I'd think she was completely unaffected if it weren’t for the delicate pink blush on her cheeks that I know from experience goes all the way down her chest to her perfect breasts.

Copeland snickers when she makes her way back over and holds his hand up for a high-five, making me roll my eyes. I take a seat at the breakfast bar next to Crew and ruffle his messy hair. “Whatcha doin’, raptor?”

His gap-toothed grin makes my heart soar. He’s been so happy since Lyla came to live with us, but knowing she and I are together and he might get to call her Mom someday has changed his entire demeanor. His separation anxiety is all but gone. He’s sleeping better, eating more than just Mac n’ Cheese and chicken nuggets, and learning new things every single day.

“I’m drawing a picture, Daddy. Wanna see?” I nod, and the picture makes my breath catch in my throat. There, in blue marker, are three figures and what looks to be a small cat. Crew enthusiastically explains the drawing, with the smile never once leaving his face. “It’s a family picture! See? That’s you with your mitt on, and Lyly is next to you. And that’s me holding her hand with my kitten, Fish.”

The cat is completely unsurprising. Crew’s always wanted one. But the thing that has me fighting back waterworks is the messily scrawled “Mommy” above Lyla’s head. Blinking away the sheen of tears, I look at my son. “This picture is amazing, raptor! Should we hang it on the fridge and show Ly?”

He nods enthusiastically, and Lyla is still chatting with Cope next to the stove, so I quietly stick the drawing to the fridge with a magnet and grab her hand to pull her to me.

Copeland looks confused for a second until his eyes track to the fridge, and they flare with understanding. He gives me the biggest grin I’ve seen on his face in years, making this feel all the more real.

My mama loves her, my friends have taken her in as one of us, and my son is practically begging me to marry her and make her his mom.

The only thing that could make this better is hearing Lyla say she loves me, too.

“Lyly! Look at my picture I drawed! Daddy put it on the fridge for you.”

Lyla’s steps slow when she spots the paper on the refrigerator, her gaze locked on the image. “The picture you drew, Crew-bug,” she corrects absentmindedly.

Her eyes fill with tears in record time, a few spilling down her cheeks before she swipes them away. Her gaze darts to mine, and I hope she can see my love staring back at her.

Giving my hand a squeeze, she walks over behind Crew and wraps her arms around him, hugging him tight as she kisses the top of his head. “I love it, Crew-bug. Thank you for the wonderful drawing.”

He sighs, his small body relaxing under the weight of our girl’s arms. “Love you, Lyly.”

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