Banking the Billionaire (Bad Boy Billionaires Book 2) (28 page)

And if I was honest with myself, I didn’t want this,
whatever it was
, to end.

I didn’t know where I wanted it to go, but I knew to the root of my soul, I didn’t want it to be over. I was never one who looked toward the future, but with Thatch, I was having a hard time
not
looking toward the future.

I couldn’t imagine my day-to-day life without him in it.

“What are you thinking about, honey?” he asked, voice soft. His hand caressed my cheek as his eyes stared into mine.

I don’t want to fuck this up. I don’t want to lose you.

I leaned into his touch. “No matter what happens between us, we’ll always be close, right?”

His brows raised in confusion. “Close?”

“Yeah,” I answered. “Me and you, we’ll always be…” I stopped midsentence when I couldn’t find the strength to say all of the things I really wanted to say. My heart and brain were at war, one wanting to profess something far stronger than
like
, while the other froze up in fear of the unknown.

I had never been the type of woman who stayed with one thing for more than a short amount of time. So how could I ask him for any kind of long-term commitment or declaration of his feelings for me if I wasn’t certain my current feelings for him would never change?

But they won’t change. He’s your person, you fucking commitment-phobic moron.

Thatch didn’t pry or press for an explanation. For several quiet moments, his gaze didn’t leave mine. His eyes searched for my unsaid words, and when he found whatever he was looking for, he changed positions—his body hovering over mine and his hands resting beside my head.

“Don’t worry, honey,” he said, his lips mere inches from mine. “We’re on the same page.”

“But how do you know?” I asked. “What if we’re not even reading the same fucking book?”

“Because I know.” His mouth quirked up at the corners as a confident smile took over his lips. “We’re on the same word, in the same paragraph, on the same page, in the same fantastic fucking book.”

“But
how
do you know?”

“Because it’s our book, Cassie. Yours and mine. This is our story, and I’ll be damned if I let it end badly.”

I know what you’re thinking.

Avoiding party of two?

Our table is ready.

But should you expect anything less confusing from us? This is Thatch and me we’re talking about here. We could have a reality show called Defying Normal.

But at least we are on the same show.

He chuckled softly as his eyes softened to caramel. Nose to nose, all I could see was Thatch’s face highlighted by the soft morning sun. His eyes were gleaming and dark as they studied me. His gaze moved to my lips and stayed there for a beat as he just took me in. His mouth was close. So close that our breaths mingled. And God, I loved his mouth. His full, soft lips. I loved the taste and lush feel of those perfect lips.

Heat pooled in my belly until it consumed my entire body. I was desperate for him, for everything he could give me. I reached up and traced his jaw with my fingers.

“
Same fucking page
,” he repeated, but he didn’t wait for my response.

He crushed his lips to mine and kissed me like a man starved for my taste, my breaths, my heart. Around and straight down the center, his tongue worked mine until I couldn’t tell where his ended and mine began. The fabric of my pajama shorts bunched easily in the grip of his hands as he pulled them away from my hips and down until his palms met the bare skin of my ass.

“You feel so goddamn good,” he breathed into the tiny sliver of space between my lips. I sucked it in and let it overwhelm me, my head falling back until his lips had nowhere to go but my throat.

His tongue traced the line of my pulsing vein, and my chest heaved.
Fuck
.
This would make some fantastic vampire porn.

Easing his weight off of me, he forced my shorts down the rest of the way and licked his top lip before biting the bottom with a groan. “No panties, baby?” One thick finger filled me in a stroke, but it didn’t stay long. He pulled it back and sucked it clean. “You have the sweetest pussy. All that attitude must turn right to sugar.”

I rolled my eyes until he stood up and shoved his boxer briefs straight to the ground.

A lot of fucking inches, hard, purple, and angry, brought my gaze right back.

“Tits out,” he ordered with a wink. “They just put in a direct request.”

Smiling, I pulled my shirt up and over my head and spread my legs wide.

Both of his big hands went straight to my calves and up, smoothing the line of each leg with a touch so gentle I didn’t know it was possible.

His sweet eyes said so much as they held mine. They didn’t look at my tits or my spread pussy. They looked right into mine and stayed there. My skin tingled from head to toe.

“You are
the most
beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

“Thatch,” I whispered. A rarity, I didn’t have anything else to say.

He covered me with his body, his forearms in the bed, pressed every accessible inch of his skin to mine, and slid into me all the way.

I moaned at the feel of him, bare and pressed deep. His hips moved slowly, with measured motion as he positioned his cock at just the right spot to put friction on my clit.

“Shit,”
he muttered and stopped midthrust. “I forgot a condom.”

He started to pull out, but I wrapped my legs around his waist and urged him to go deeper with my heels. “Don’t stop, Thatch. Please, don’t stop,” I begged. “I’m clean. I’m on the pill. Just don’t stop. I
need
to feel you.”

“Fuck,” he groaned. “Believe me, I don’t want to stop. But are you sure, honey?” He moved both of his hands to my face and cupped my cheeks gently in his palms. “You know I would never put you at risk, right? I’m clean. I get tested often.”

But what is often? How many women has he been with since his last test?
I hated to think it, and honestly hadn’t until his gentle insistence, but Thatch’s pussy persuasion was strong. But what I did know managed to drown out those thoughts. I knew Thatch, or at least I was starting to, and he wouldn’t put me in a precarious position. Not like this, not for some cheap thrill.

“I trust you.” I tilted my hips and encouraged him deeper. “I. Trust. You,” I repeated the words, and I wasn’t sure if was for me or for him. But I knew I needed him. Needed this. Needed to reinforce the difference between this and every other sexual encounter I’d ever had. This was personal, planned, and most definitely devoid of regret.

His eyes glazed over at my words, a guttural groan filling the room so distinctly it felt like it’d been mined from his chest. He crushed his mouth to mine again and pushed his cock to the hilt. Everywhere he could reach—and with his size, he could reach a lot of things—he touched me, his hands and fingers moving over my heated skin and setting every nerve ending on fire.

Once his tongue found mine again, it didn’t leave, delving deeper and harder, just to slow down and linger on every stroke. I wasn’t sure if either of us was actually capable of stopping, both starved for one other, but it never entered my mind to find out.

His hips picked up the pace, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the otherwise quiet room, as his hands slid up my sides and caressed the pliant flesh of my breasts. I trembled in response, and my breaths turned to erratic pants mixed with pleading words falling from my lips. “More. More. More,” I chanted, mindless of my volume despite our proximity to my family.

“You feel so good. God, Cassie, what are you doing to me?” He pumped his hips slowly then, moving in and out of me and completely changing the angle, while low, husky groans escaped from his lungs.

Each slide of his cock felt like it skimmed a live wire inside me. “Oh, fuck.” I gasped into his mouth as a shiver tore down my spine from the building intensity of my climax. The rising intensity so great I feared I’d literally fall to pieces if I let it go completely.

“Don’t hold back, honey,” he demanded, speeding up again to move his hips in raw and greedy drives.

“Thatch. I…” All of the oxygen had been removed from the room, and I couldn’t breathe. “I need…Fuck…I need…”
You. I need you so much.

His large palm cupped my cheek as his gaze stayed locked with mine. “I know,” he rasped as if he had heard my silent plea. “I know, honey.
Same fucking page
. Always.”

I grabbed hold of his hair, trying like hell to anchor myself, but the climax took over and consumed me. He watched with rapt attention, eyes burning. My back arched and my hips lifted toward his, ravenous and frantic for each wave that washed over me. Heat pooled in my core until it spread like wildfire through every nerve, every cell, every fucking molecule of my body.

Each thrust of his hips came faster, harder, deeper, until he lost himself inside me. “Cassie.
My Cassie,”
he whispered, the sound of my name guttural and penetrating and completely unfiltered. I felt it all the way to my toes.

I sat at the kitchen table, watching Thatch’s toned ass stand in front of my mother’s sink while he helped her wash the dishes from breakfast. He washed. She dried. And they kept up a steady gab session in between.

“Someone’s got it bad,” my father whispered before he took his last sip of coffee and stood up from his seat.

I rolled my eyes but didn’t give him the satisfaction of a response.

He walked over to my chair and urged me to my feet before enveloping me in a warm hug. The smell of my dad and home and love and my childhood wrapped me up in nostalgia. I returned his embrace and buried my face in his chest. “I missed you, guys,” I whispered.

“I missed you too, baby. Don’t wait so long to come home, okay?”

I nodded into his shoulder.

He leaned back and took me in with an affectionate grin. “It’s hard to believe my little Cassie is all grown up, living her life in New York, and excelling in her career. You make me so proud, sweetheart.”

“Thanks, Daddy.” I returned his smile.

“You know, you look different from the last time I saw you.”

“I do?”

He nodded. “You look happy.”

My brow scrunched in confusion. “I’m always happy, Dad. I have nothing to be sad about in my life.”

He shook his head. “Not like this, baby. This is a different kind of happy,” he said and glanced toward Thatch standing at the kitchen sink. “But I’m sure I don’t have to tell you the reason for those bright eyes or glowing smile.”

I started to respond, but my dad stopped me by pulling me in for another quick hug.

“Risking my heart was the hardest thing I ever did with your mom,” he whispered into my ear. “But it’s the single best decision of my life.” He squeezed my shoulders and then headed for his study.

I stood frozen in my spot until Sean bounded down the hallway and nearly barreled into me.

“Yo, Thatch! You fucking coming or what?” he practically shouted as he sat down on a chair and slipped on his trainers.

“Jesus,” I muttered and slapped him upside the head. “You scared the shit out of me.”

Sean ignored me and tied his laces.

“Are you going now?” Thatch asked as he turned toward us. His eyes bounced like ping-pong balls between me, Sean, and my mom as he wiped his hands off with a dry dish towel.

“Yeah,” my brother answered and stood. “You ready?”

“Wait. Where are you going?” I crossed my arms over my chest.

“Your boyfriend is coming to the gym with me.”

“Is that okay?” Thatch walked toward me and placed his hands on my hips. “What time is our flight?”

“If you make it back by three, we’ll have plenty of time to get to the airport.”

“How about I’ll get back by one, and I’ll take you to lunch before we leave?” he offered.

My eyes lit up. “Italian?”

He smirked. “Anything you want, honey.”

“Okay. Deal. But go easy on my brother. He’s still recovering from an injury.”

Sean scoffed. “I’m one hundred percent healthy, Cass. Stop being such a fucking mother hen.”

I shot a glare in his direction. “I’m your big sister. I’m supposed to fucking worry about you.”

“That’s e-fucking-nough,” my mother called over her shoulder as she put dishes away. “No bickering on Sundays. Those are the rules.”

Thatch narrowed his eyes. He’d been on to us before, but we’d pretty much dumped the bucket of truth on him now. He glanced between Sean and me and then my mother until his eyes met mine again with a knowing raise of his brow. “The whole no-cursing bit? You were screwing with me, weren’t you?”

I grinned. “Oh, yeah. I was totally fucking with you. My mom sounds like a sailor compared to me.”

He smirked and pointed an accusing finger in my direction. “I’m getting you back for that one, Crazy.”

“I don’t give a—” I said and finished the sentence by scratching the side of my nose with my middle finger.

He laughed and shook his head, before turning toward Sean. “You had an injury?” he asked him.

My brother sighed. “Yeah. ACL. College football. But it’s been a year, and I’ve been training my ass off.”