Banking Her: A Billionaire Bad Boys Novella (Book 2.5) (Bad Boy Billionaires) (15 page)

“Give me a reason to put them out of my mind.”

A nervous smile crested his lips. “You’re going to think I’m insane when I tell you this.”

I quirked a brow. “What’s new?”

“I’ve been following you,” he blurted out, and I blinked. “I’ve been following you around because I just can’t
not
know that you and our baby are okay. I’m literally driving myself crazy over the idea that something could happen to you both, and I’d never forgive myself if I wasn’t there. So, yeah, I’ve been following you like a creepy bastard.” He looked down and muttered to himself, but I couldn’t make out the words. Something about jaywalking, maybe.

“So, you followed me to Phoenix to make sure we’re okay?”

He nodded. Grimaced a little.

“And Seattle…and San Diego…and well, pretty much every single place you’ve traveled to since we found out you’re pregnant.”

My jaw dropped in surprise. “You’ve been stalking me?”

“I know,” he said and gripped my hips tighter as if he was afraid I would jet out of the room. “I’ve reached psychopath levels of crazy here, but I couldn’t stop myself. I didn’t want to suffocate you with my neuroses, so I just kind of took it upon myself to keep an eye on you guys from the sidelines without standing in your way.”

“You’ve been
stalking
me this whole time?”

“Yes.” He buried his face in my stomach. “Don’t leave me. I promise I’ll get this under control. I swear to God, this is the last trip I’ll take.”

I lifted up his chin with my fingers until his gaze met mine. “You are a fluffing idiot.”

“I know,” he agreed, looking almost despondent—it didn’t look at all right on his face.

“That is by far the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

His eyes went wide in surprise. “You’re not mad?”

I shook my head, and a few tears escaped from my eyes and slipped down my cheeks. He loved me so much he was losing his mind.

God, this was the best thing I’d ever heard.

“I’m the complete opposite of mad. I feel like I just fell in love with you all over again.”

I pushed him down onto the bed and straddled his hips and didn’t waste another second, crashing my lips to his. I kissed him hard and deep and poured everything I had into that kiss. This man,
my
man, had been stalking me for nearly two months, and hell if it wasn’t the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for me.

“Fuck, Cass.” He groaned against my lips as his big hands slid down my waist and grabbed my ass, pulling my hips toward his. His dick felt like it could hammer nails, and in my mind, I was already plotting out how I could melt myself down and fashion myself into the shape of one. It might be weird, but at least I’d be skinny.

As I kissed him, I whispered against his lips, “I have something to confess, too.”

“Something? What something?” he asked, slightly distracted by testing the weight of my tits in each hand like an actual scale.

“I lied to the bellhop when I asked him for your room number,” I admitted as I licked across his jaw. He groaned and leaned forward, nuzzling my breasts like pillows. Or maybe he thought he could make the fabric of my shirt disappear by scrubbing it off with his face. “I think he might think you’re a famous porn star who had to quit the industry because you’re waiting on a penis transplant.”

He leaned back and stared up at me. “He
might
think that?”

I shrugged. “Okay, so he definitely thinks that.”

“And
why
does he think that?”

I scoffed. “Hello? How do you think? I fluffing told him.”

“Now it all makes sense.” He chuckled softly and shook his head in amusement. “Everyone behind the desk was trying to stare at my dick, you know, inconspicuously, but I just figured I had some VPL going.” I raised my eyebrows and he explained. “Visible Penis Line. I saw it on one of your book blogs.”

He pressed a smacking kiss to my lips and gave my ass a good, hard smack. “I should have known the stares were more intense than normal.”

“Thanks to my evil ways,” I declared with a laugh.

“Exactly.” He shook his head and laughed again. “God, I love you.”

I gazed into his smirking brown eyes and knew with absolute certainty he wasn’t alone. I fell deeper under his spell a little more each day. “Is it time for makeup sex now?”

“No, honey, it’s time for
marathon
sex.”

He flipped me onto my back and lifted my shirt up and over my head. His fingers were sliding into my panties, and he had sucked a hardened nipple into his hot mouth before I could offer a response.

I moaned when his thumb joined the party and started rubbing smooth circles around my clit.

“Yeah, definitely marathon sex,” he agreed with his earlier comment. “I’m going to fuck you until you can’t walk tomorrow.”

“What about the game?” I asked, but in all honesty, I gave fluff all about that game. At that point, the only balls I was in the mood for were Thatch’s.

“I’ll fucking carry you,” was the last thing he said before he tore off my panties, spread my thighs, pulled his perfect cock out of his jeans and buried himself to the hilt.

“Thatch, yes,” I whimpered and lifted my arms so I could grip the headboard with my fingers.

“That’s right, honey. Hold on tight. We’re going for gold in Phoenix tonight.”

I couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up and out of my chest, but Thatch stopped it for me with a carefully placed rotation of his hips.

“Oh, holy hell,” I moaned as the head of his dick put pressure on the perfect spot inside of me.

“You’re everything,” he whispered in my ear as I tightened my thighs around his waist. One kiss, two, he touched his lips to my neck before licking a line from my collarbone to my jaw. “Watching you these last few weeks, Cass,” he went on, his voice so genuine it was nearly tortured, “I could not have imagined a better version of you.”

My eyes closed and my head lolled back. An opportunist, Thatch used the space to lick his way down my chest until his lips met my breast.

His hips worked faster and deeper, seeking every inch of connection he could get, and I welcomed it. Warmth and love danced in his eyes as he lifted them to meet mine, and I fell right down their well.

Into comfort and safety—and right into my orgasm.

It took me by surprise, so sudden, so powerful, but Thatch didn’t look surprised at all; he looked like he’d been waiting.

Waiting for me and this moment and everything we were and would ever be.

“You’re everything too,” I told him softly as he groaned through the height of his climax.

And he was—everything I’d never been smart enough to hope for.

W
innie stood at the side of the field in casual clothes—or so she would describe them.

To me, there was nothing casual about the way her jeans framed and lifted her ass or the sight of all that perfect, creamy skin revealed by the sleeveless cut of her tank top.

It was hot as balls here, even in October, and I didn’t blame her for dressing down a little. There was no reason to come to the last walk-through practice in femme-fatale battle gear, but I’d thought she was only dangerous in those skirts and crisp business shirts. In her daily gear, she was like something out of my teenage wet dreams—the ones that used to make me
actually
come in my sheets.

Yep. I’m admitting to that. Any man who doesn’t is a liar.

Quinn Bailey stepped back, shuffling out of the pocket with ease and lobbing a light pass over the heads of waiting defenders at the center of the field. Bransky was late to the crossover, behind the pass, and would have been demolished during a game-day scenario of this play, so the sound of the whistle from Coach Bennett’s lips was no surprise.

“Bransky!” he yelled. “Get your ass back here and run it again!”

I would have laughed if it hadn’t been for the expression on Bransky’s face that made it look like Bennett had just told him his favorite grandmother died. He was still young, right out of college, and his fucking people-pleasing attitude was one in a million. The kid seriously didn’t know the meaning of quit, and he was going to go places because of it. Not just in the NFL, but in life. The sad truth was, so few people worked that hard anymore.

My eyes moved back to Winnie and the white turf of the sideline under her feet. Thanks to a long-standing relationship with the president of Arizona State University, we had a place to come just outside of Phoenix, in Tempe, that wasn’t the opposition’s territory to run through our plays last minute—to make sure they were second nature to each and every guy on the field.

Normally, I tried to stay removed—it wasn’t my job to coach, no matter how bad I wanted to—so I kept to a seat up in the bleachers.

But as much as I hated to admit it, the call of Winnie was strong. I found myself wanting to go stand on the sideline just to see if I could catch a whiff of her, and
goddamn
, that was fucking dangerous.

Thankfully, the ringing of my phone put my ass—
that was a solid inch in the air
—back on my seat.

After strongly considering sending him to voicemail, I worried that maybe something was wrong with Cassie and he needed me to do something about it. And holy hell, I’d feel like an asshole if I ignored a call like that.

I pushed the green phone icon to accept, and he started talking before I could say anything in greeting.

“I need access to the field right after the game,” Thatch said, and I groaned.

“Could you maybe, every once in a while, call me when you don’t want something that’s nearly impossible?”

“This isn’t nearly impossible,” he insisted, a hint of desperation in his normally playful voice.

“This isn’t a home game. This isn’t my stadium, in case you’ve forgotten. My word doesn’t rule. I can’t just grant you access. I have to call Hank Bastian and ask him because it’s
his
stadium.
His
field.
His
access to grant.”

“Great.”

“Great?”

“Yeah,” he responded without missing a beat. “You obviously know how to make it happen, so do that.”

“It’s not that simple,” I told him.

“Wes.
Please.
I want to get married on the field tomorrow, after the game. I’ve got everything ready. Cassie’s parents are coming last minute under the pretense of watching Sean play, and I’m going to make her my wife. I need access to that field. I’m begging you. Please.”

“Okay,” I agreed. There really wasn’t any other option.

“Thank God,” Thatch exhaled, his relief so thick I could feel it coating my skin and settling deep into my gut. And despite my own feelings about marriage and kids, I couldn’t stop my smile.

“Text me when you have confirmation about the field, and, yeah, yeah, I know I’m a pain in your ass, but the sooner the better. I’m really counting on it, and I have a few things to do after I get it. Plus, I’ve got Cassie on my ass since she found out I’m here, and I have very limited time to get all of this shit done.”

“You’re here?” I asked, and as soon as I did, I knew it was a dumb question.

“Uh, yeah. Hence the need for the field.”

The way he said it had me narrowing my eyes. “Why do I get the feeling there’s way more to this than you’re telling me?”

“Because there is. A whole fuck of a lot that I’m a little embarrassed to admit and in no way have time to explain right now. But, because I’m friends with people like Kline, I’m sure you’ll hear the full story soon enough.”

“Okay, but—”

He cut me off. “Gotta go. Text me.”

Shaking my head, I pulled the phone away from my ear and got up from my seat immediately. But this time, it wasn’t for a blond-headed woman who was off-fucking-limits.

Apparently, I had to talk to Hank Bastian.