Banking the Billionaire (Bad Boy Billionaires Book 2) (2 page)

“Thanks. I think Frederick is going to be really happy with them. He loves a good bareskinned man huddle. But who doesn’t?”

Olivia smirked and continued clicking from one photo to the next.

She had been my assistant for a few years now, and I’d grown fond of our working relationship. Not only was she a good friend but I’d felt compelled to take her under my wing and teach her everything I knew about photography. She had the raw interest, and with my help on the technicalities and work ethic, I hoped that one day I’d eventually help her make the big jump from assistant to photographer.

Joshua, one of my favorite makeup artists and a pathological flirt, peeked over Olivia’s shoulder and then nudged her out of the way with his hip. It didn’t take his nosy ass long to start scrolling through my personal collection. “
Wait
…what is this? I don’t remember this shoot.”

An entire album of Kline, Thatch, and Wes’s rugby team filled the screen and glinted like horny glitter off the apex of Joshua’s eye. I smiled at the memory of taking those photos a few weeks before Kline and Georgia’s wedding. We had stopped by the boys’ practice before grabbing dinner, and needless to say, hot men playing rugby made me thankful I’d had my camera with me that day.

Joshua pointed to a picture of Thatcher. The Jolly Green Giant’s tall frame was unmistakable, perfectly defined lines and toned muscles taking up so much space in the shot they almost jumped right off the screen, and the only thing covering that fuck-hot body was a pair of black knit shorts. Hair wet with sweat, he was just standing there, hands on his hips, grinning like a cocky son of a bitch.

“Seriously,” Joshua insisted. “What is
that?”

“That’s a Thatch.”

“A thatch? Is that one of those new cool words like
fleek
or
rachet
?”

I shook my head and laughed. “Thatch is his name, Thatcher Kelly,” I explained before muttering under my breath, “Or an action. God, yeah.” I stared at his photo. “I’d thatch that for sure.”

He sighed. “Is he single?”

The question felt strange for a fraction of a second, and then the fleeting uncertainty was gone. I grinned. “Oh, yes, he’s very single.”

I mean, he
was
single. So technically, I wasn’t lying. I was just leaving out the little detail of him not being into cock.

Joshua stared at the photo for a disturbing amount of time before asking, “Can I have his number?”

I didn’t think twice about it. This was Thatch we were talking about, and I would gladly take any opportunity to fuck with him. “Give me your phone.”

He handed it over, and I happily added Thatchsquatch’s number to his contacts. I chose not to think about why I had it memorized.

“Dayum, I need this man in my life,” Joshua said, staring down at the picture on my computer screen before glancing at the number in his phone.

I tilted my head to the side. “I thought you were dating someone.”

Joshua grimaced. “I was, but apparently, I’m too clingy.”

“Well, fuck that guy. He sounds like an asshole.”

“Yeah,” he muttered. “An asshole I was in love with. Hell, I’m still in love with him. I wish my heart would get the memo and forget he ever existed.”

I shook my head in sympathy. But empathy? That was undeniably missing. “Man, oh man, love sure is a bossy bitch, isn’t she?”

Joshua chuckled. “Wise words from the girl who never settles down.”

I smirked. “Maybe I’m a bigger bitch than love.”

He glanced down at his phone again, and then his eyes lit up. “Fuck it, I’m about to yolo and call this sexy motherfucker.”

Before I had the chance to stop him—which probably wouldn’t have mattered because, yeah, I wasn’t going to miss this—he was tapping Thatch’s number on the screen and putting his phone on speaker.

Three rings later and the deep voice my pussy would gladly flock toward filled the room. “Thatch.”

“Is this Thatcher Kelly?” Joshua asked with a smirk, his eyes meeting mine.

I probably should’ve felt bad about throwing Josh to the proverbial wolves, but man, it was hard not to get a sick amount of enjoyment out of what was about to go down.

“You got him,” Thatch responded, business and bossy and hot as fuck. My pussy made a bid to crawl out of my pants.

Oh, shit. Do not get excited, you flirty little bitch
, I told her.
This phone call is about laughing, not boning.

“Hi, Thatcher,” my makeup artist turned sexual siren purred into the phone. “My name is Joshua, and we have a mutual friend.”

“And who might that mutual friend be?” Thatch asked, open but wary. I knew he was a fairly private person despite his boisterous personality.

“Cassie Phillips.”

Thatch chuckled, deep and throaty, and my nipples pebbled. “Yeah, I know Cassie.” Apparently, based on their general non-reaction, I was the only one feeling like he meant
know
in the biblical sense. And I was the only one who knew he
didn’t
know me like that.

“She happened to show me some pictures she had taken of you, and I gotta—”

“Cassie has a picture of me on her camera?”

“Oh, yeah, baby, she sure does. You’re shirtless, and I can’t deny I’m interested.”

“You’re interested?” Thatch’s voice was laced with confusion.

“Yes. I’m very interested. And Cass happened to mention you were single. And well, I’m single. I think we’d hit it off. So, I was wondering if you’d like to grab a drink sometime?”

“And Cassie told you this was something I’d be interested in?”

Joshua’s gaze shot to mine, but he kept his composure on the phone. “Not in so many words, but, yeah.”

A soft chuckle filled the receiver. “Well, Joshua, it’s a pleasure to talk with you, truly, but I’ve got a bit of a problem with this scenario.”

“Oh.” His voice was dejected. “And what would that be?”

“I’m kind of in love with a set of talking tits. And the owner of said mystic wonders is pretty fucking head over heels for my cock.”

“I’m not in love with your cock, T-bag,” I responded, and Josh’s and Olivia’s eyes aimed right at me.

Joshua stared at me for a few seconds and then flipped me off.

“You
are
a bigger bitch than love,” he told me with an amused grin, handing me his phone and whispering into my ear, “You totally want to get Thatched, you little floozy. And don’t think I’ll forget about this anytime soon. You owe me, Phillips. You owe me big.”

I laughed and shook my head. “Nah, I just like fucking with him. And how big are we talking here?”

“A new boyfriend with a ten-inch snake coiled inside his pants.”

“Ten inches?” My eyes went wide. “You can take that much?”

“Oh, yeah. My deep throat game is strong.” Joshua winked. “And you’re a liar, by the way. You want that big, bad man between your thighs,” he added in a whisper before heading toward the other tent to clean up.

I switched the phone off speaker mode, and Thatcher’s deep voice filled my ear. “You know you don’t have to create these elaborate pranks just to hear my voice, honey. The subscription messages and now this. Seems like a lot of extraneous effort when you can call me any fucking time.”

“Bye, Thatcher,” I said in dismissal, feigning annoyance even though I was anything but annoyed. Thanks to the photo and Thatch’s throaty fucking chuckle, I was too busy picturing him driving his big train through my tunnel.

“Be good, Cassie.”

“I’m always good.”

He laughed. “I’m having a hard time believing that. Tell Joshua I appreciated the call and the offer. And if I wasn’t into pussy, I would’ve taken him out for a nice dinner, some drinks, and then back to my place so I could fuck his brains out.”

“You paint such a pretty picture. Are you sure you don’t want to give him a shot? Who knows? Maybe you’ll love the D?”

“You think?” he asked, audibly playing along even though we both knew when Thatcher Kelly pounded something, it was pussy.

“I let you kiss me, so stranger things have happened.”

His voice dropped a few octaves. “You wearing a bra right now?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“You wearing a bra or not wearing a bra always has everything to do with everything. It’s literally never off topic.”

I shook my head but glanced down at my T-shirt. “This shouldn’t surprise you, but no, I’m not.”

If there was one thing Thatcher Kelly loved, it was my boobs. For all I knew, he had a fan club dedicated to the mounds on my chest.

“Yeah, I’m hard at that visual. It’s safe to say I’m straight as an arrow.”

“Put your boner away, Thatcher.”

“Come help me,” he dared.

“That’s a lovely offer, but I’m not in New York. “

“Where are you?”

“Key West.”

“And when are you coming home?”

“Not for another couple of days,” I answered honestly.

“You should call me when you’re back in town.”

“Oh, I should? And why would I do that?”

“Because you can’t stop thinking about me.”

I stared out toward the darkening blue sea. I couldn’t deny he was slightly correct on that front. Almost two months ago, we had spent an ungodly amount of time together while watching Kline and Georgia’s cat, while they banged like bunnies in Bora Bora on their honeymoon.

The cat watching had turned to cat searching when Walter had gone missing for a few days, and somehow during that debacle, Thatcher Kelly had started to grow on me. I’d even found myself occasionally calling him or sending him random text messages just to see what he was up to.

It was all very unlike me, and I was starting to wonder if I just needed to fuck him out of my system.

“I don’t know about that,” I answered with a skeptical tone. “I mean, I just saw the new Superman movie, and I’ve been using up a lot of brainpower on Henry Cavill fantasies.”

“I’m down for role-playing, honey. I’ll even put a cape on my cock if that’s what you’re into.”

Well, that was a hot visual.

“But how would I blow you?”

“You wouldn’t. I’d be too busy with my mouth on your pussy. We’ll save the blow job for our second date.”

God, he was the king of one-upping. It probably should’ve annoyed me, but it didn’t. I got far too much enjoyment out of bantering back and forth with him.

“Have you been Googling pickup lines again?” I teased.

“With great penis comes great responsibility, honey.”

I laughed at that. “God, that’s awful.”

“Fuck me if I’m wrong, but I know you want me to kiss you again.”

Yeah, so he had kissed me.
Once
. I was pretty sure it was used to shut me up, but it didn’t leave a bad taste in my mouth. Though, it’d pissed me off when he acted like that kiss was a game. I wasn’t normally sensitive to that shit, but I’d been fully invested in the moment until he’d taken me out of it. The bastard.

“I’m hanging up now.”

He laughed. “Fine, fine. Call me when you’re back in town.”

“I’ll consider it.”

“You’ll consider it?” he repeated. “Well, fuck, that’s a hell of a lot better than the last time I told you to do that.”

My eyebrow quirked up. “What’d I say the last time?”

“That you’d slap me in the dick.”

“Don’t worry, T. I’ll find a way to accomplish both.”

His deep chuckles were the last thing I heard before hanging up the phone.

Only then did I realize I’d expressed my intent to see him. Because no matter how I planned it, dick slapping was an in-person kind of thing.

F
orty years of my parents’ marriage and thirty-five years of my own life history had brought me here, back to my hometown, Frogsneck, New York. My parents were the picture of everything I wanted in a marriage when it came to commitment, and celebrating so many years of their love for one another tonight had been a seriously special experience. They were the best kind of people—loving and loyal and fucking honest to a fault.

But I hated being back here in my hometown, the looks people gave me
and
my parents never having faded even after this many years.

Perception is the ultimate example of “it is what you make it.” Unfortunately, what people “made it” sometimes lacked basis in the truth.