Banking the Billionaire (Bad Boy Billionaires Book 2)

by Max Monroe

  “I thought you had a photo shoot.”

  “Screw the photo shoot,” I declared. “This is more important.” I pulled up the right side of my shirt, exposing my rib cage.

  It hadn’t taken long after leaving Frankie to come to my senses. And to realize he’d been giving me a big fucking clue by telling me to bring the ring back myself. He’d looked downright elated when I’d walked in and raised a smirking brow.

  Frankie had told me to think about what was important, and I had. He was the size of an elephant and had a trunk to rival all the others. And he was everything I needed in my life. He pushed me past my comfort zones at the same time he let me soak in them.

  Thatch was my person.

  He was my present and my future.

  He was it for me.

  God, I was such an idiot. I had risked all of that, my fucking happiness, Thatch’s happiness, because I was too bullheaded and stubborn and couldn’t stand the idea of someone else having control over me. But I was done with it now.

  The funny thing about when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with someone, is you don’t want to waste another second of your life without them.

  You want it all. Right now.

  He stared down at me. “So, you’re hijacking my first client’s appointment?”

  “She’s not your first client. I’m your first client.”

  “It’s bad for business for you to pull shit like this.”

  I don’t care about anything but you.

  I shrugged. “I don’t care about anything but you.”

  My heart and brain were finally in sync.

  A giant smile spread across my face, and I watched him intake a sharp breath. He stared down at his fingers while they fiddled with sterile packaging.

  “You want me to tattoo you?” he finally asked after a pregnant pause. He searched my eyes for all of the answers I was willing to give. “Do you have something in mind? Remember, it’s gonna be with you for life.”

  “I want you to choose.”

  “Are you crazy?” he asked sincerely.

  I smiled at the irony and nodded. “You know I am.”

  “You’re trusting me to pick out your tattoo?”

  I shook my head and held his eyes with my own. I needed to make sure he got it. That despite everything I’d blown hot air about, I did need him. Because he made me a better version of me. Not different. Not worse. A newer, improved model. “I’m trusting you with everything.”

  He searched my unrelenting gaze for another moment, and then he turned away to prepare his station. He set up the ink and set out the needles, and I watched each movement as though it was gospel. I’d missed the sound of his voice and the sound of his laugh and all the little things that only I got to know about him.

  “Everything is sterile,” he instructed as he opened up each needle and turned back to me. “These will only be used on you, and then they’ll be disposed of.”

  “Well, that’s fantastic fucking news because I just want a tattoo, not Hep C,” I teased, but my voice didn’t hold any of its usual intensity. I want my giant back.

  He smirked and gestured toward my exposed rib cage, but he didn’t pull me into his arms and tell me he loved me either. I wasn’t sure what to make of any of it. “This where you want it?”

  I nodded.

  “And you sure about this?”

  I nodded.

  He cleaned off my skin with a cool cloth.

  “You’re one hundred percent certain you want to do this?”

  “One hundred and ten percent.”

  Ten minutes and several more “Are you sure?” style questions from Thatch, the sketch was on my ribs, and he slipped on latex gloves.

  “Do you want to see it before I start?”

  I shook my head and rested my head on the table. “No. I’ll want to see it for the first time when it’s done.”

  The very edges of a smirk graced his lips as he held up the tattoo machine for my eyes. “I’m going to do a dry run so you know what the needle feels like.”

  “Test away,” I said and shut my eyes. The initial sting of the needle made me flinch, but otherwise, it wasn’t too awful bad.

  “How does it feel?” he asked, the edge of his glove-covered thumb skimming softly over the surrounding skin.

  “Like you’re about to create something amazing for me.” I peeked out of one eye and caught his tender smile. It felt like I could breathe for the first time.

  “You ready, honey?” he asked on a whisper, and I had to fight the urge to burst into tears at the sounds of his sweet endearment.

  Honey. I’d missed that so much.

  Taking several gulps of newfound air, I nodded my head enthusiastically. “So ready.”

  “Okay, Crazy. Just try to sit back and relax.”

  His latex-covered hand rested on my side as he leaned forward and put the tattoo needle to my skin. His face was mere inches from my ribs, and I could feel his warm breaths ease in and out from his lips and brush against my skin.

  The room stayed silent, only the buzzing of the gun filling the space. I winced when the needle pushed against a particularly sensitive bundle of nerves.

  “Just relax. You’re doing great,” he encouraged.

  I closed my eyes and let Thatch work his magic, and forty minutes later, he was cleaning off my skin again and announcing, “All done.”

  I looked up at him and smiled. “Really?”

  He nodded. “Yep.”

  “Can I look at it now?” I asked with excitement.

  He nodded, snapped off his gloves, and helped me off the table.

  I walked over toward the floor-length mirror and turned to my side.

  The second my gaze caught sight of the black words etched across my reddened skin, tears filled my eyes.

  She was crazy. Wild.

  Chaos & beauty.

  My heart.

  Mine.

  He stood behind me, watching my reaction in the mirror.

  “For most of my life, I had only been sure about one thing,” I said quietly and glanced back down at the beautiful tattoo he had created for me. “Photography was my one sure thing. I loved the control it brought me,” I admitted. “For as long as I can remember, I had always hated not having control of my choices. It’s just the way I was. I needed it. I needed the freedom to go and do and be whatever I wanted.”

  He started to speak, but I put a finger to his lips as my gaze met his. “But then I met you.

  “You’re the one and only thing I’m sure about. Everything else is just details. Because you’re it for me, Thatch. And I trust you with everything because I know you trust me back.”

  I closed the distance between us. “I’m sorry for what I did. I’m sorry for jumping off that cliff. It was selfish and cruel, and I’m so sorry I hurt you like that. When you begged me not to do it, I should have known you weren’t trying to control me, you were just trying to keep me safe.” I reached up and touched his cheek.

  He leaned into my touch and closed his eyes. “I should have gotten over it faster.”

  I shook my head. “Will you forgive me?”

  “Of course, I will, honey,” he whispered with his heart in his eyes.

  “Will you still love me?”

  Both of his hands cupped my cheeks. “I never stopped. And I’m sorry I told you like that.”

  I inhaled a cavernous breath as relief coursed through my veins.

  I wrapped my arms around his neck and stood on my tiptoes to press a soft kiss to his lips.

  “I love you.”

  His answering smile was blinding. He lifted me up, hands putting the softest pressure at the juncture of my ass and thighs, and wrapped my legs around his waist.

  “I love you too, honey.”

  “Enough to still marry me?” I asked against his lips.

  He chuckled. “Are you asking me?”

  I nodded. “Marry me, Thatcher.”

  His eyes changed from playful to
serious in the span of a heartbeat. “You’re really asking me?”

  I pressed my forehead to his and locked our gazes. “Yes. Marry me. Make me the luckiest fucking girl on the planet.”

  “You’re that sure about us, honey?”

  I held up my left hand and showed him the engagement ring I now refused to take off. Funny how this afternoon I’d been one shake shy of cutting off my finger just to get it fucking gone.

  “Yes. I’m that sure.”

  He took my lips in a hot, deep, sexy kiss.

  “Is that a yes?” I asked against his persistent mouth.

  He shrugged, but a soft smile graced his lips. “Maybe.”

  I leaned back and stared at him.

  His goddamn smile grew, and I couldn’t stop my lips from mimicking his.

  “You’re giving me a maybe? Leslie’s Instagramming about this right now. Hashtag CuntResponse.”

  He winked.

  That fucking wink.

  This was a challenge. I could see it all over his face. He wasn’t content to let our relationship follow the normal path, and the more I thought about it, neither was I.

  All we needed was a promise. Not some over-the-top proposal.

  God-fucking-dammit, I loved him.

  “I’m not taking this ring off.”

  His response was immediate, demanding, and everything I never knew I needed it to be.

  “Rule number seventy-five, never take that fucking ring off.”

  The early morning sun filtered in through the floor-to-ceiling window of the living room as I padded back into the kitchen to pour a fresh cup of coffee. I stirred my favorite caramel creamer into my brew while I wiped the sleep out of my eyes.

  It was early. Too goddamn early. But my internal clock had been off-kilter over the past few weeks. Lately, I’d been waking up before Thatch and Phil, which said a lot since our little piggy tended to rise and shine before roosters crowed.

  The clock on the stove glowed 6:00 a.m. and I groaned.

  This morning bird bullshit was annoying.

  After a few sips from my mug, I fixed Thatcher a cup of coffee and headed back into our bedroom. My eyes took in the numerous photographs I’d hung up throughout the apartment over the past two months. Black-and-white landscapes and colorful cityscapes filled the hallway, and the picture Thatch had taken of the three of us in Central Park hung proudly over the mantel.

  Thatch’s apartment was no longer just his place; it was our home now.

  Sometimes, I still couldn’t believe it was real. Sometimes, it was difficult to process, that at one point in time, I had almost lost him. But we were real. We were an us. And we were forever. That much I was resolute on. Everything else was just minor details.

  Yeah, that big motherfucker had won my heart. Loving Thatch had changed me. He was my best friend, and because of his love and friendship, he made me a better version of me.

  I know, I know, that’s some real sappy bullshit, huh?

  Well, Love is a real fucking bitch, and once she’s got you in her hold, consider yourself done for. Which is why I can honestly admit that I am officially a woman who is head over heels in love with a man who loves me for me. I know, I got real fucking lucky. I almost lost him because I had been stupid and selfish and stubborn. But I swear on Thatch’s Supercock that I’ll never make those mistakes again. The Jolly Green Giant is stuck with me and my crazy for life.

  So, I’d like to thank you guys for not killing me off before our story got its happy ending.

  And I’d also like to thank Love for being a bigger bitch than me.

  Loving Thatch also made me really horny. Like I needed to bone all day long.

  Over the past few weeks, all I had thought about was sex with Thatch and blowing Thatch and Thatch going down on me and Thatch naked in the shower and Thatch spanking me and me spanking Thatch…

  It was a never-ending list of porny thoughts. I wondered if my selfishness had filtered from my heart to my puss-ay. And to be honest, she was a bit out of control. But man, oh man, once she expressed her need to get laid, she was fucking merciless.

  Which probably explained why I set our mugs on the nightstand and crawled into bed beside a sound asleep Thatch with the intent of waking him up for a morning bang.

  The sheet barely covered his huge frame, and soft snores fell from his lips. My greedy eyes took in his body with the soundtrack of my pussy shouting her approval in the background. I ogled his trim hips, his sexy V muscle, his defined abs, and as I moved my eyes up his body and caught sight of his tattoos and the shimmer of his piercing, my nipples got hard.

  I wanted to eat him with a spoon.

  Scratch that, I didn’t need a spoon when I had two hands and my mouth.

  And me, my pussy purred. Fuck, she was demanding. If I wasn’t so horned up, I would’ve considered having a come to Jesus talk with her.

  I’m aware that referring to Jesus in the same sentence as my pussy is probably frowned upon by the majority of the population. But they don’t have to live with her.

  I do.

  And fuck, she is bossy, and I’m starting to wonder if she is on a one-pussy mission to get us pregnant, even though she knows we’re on the pill.

  Trust me, she needs Jesus.

  And possibly a tranquilizer with a side of exorcism.

  I ran my hand across the smooth skin of his chest and kissed up his neck until I reached his earlobe where I bit down gently and tugged a few times. “Thatch,” I whispered. “Wake up.”

  “No,” he said without opening his eyes.

  “Baby, I—”

  “No,” he repeated before I could finish.

  “But—”

  “No, Cass,” he refuted. “I think you actually broke my dick. We’ve fucked no less than ten times in the past twenty-four hours. It’s physically impossible for me to get hard right now. It’s just a prop at this point.”

  God, his voice sounded so fucking hot all raspy and thick with sleep.

  “But what if I—”

  “You have literally fucked me dry. I really hope you’re okay with adoption, honey, because I’m ninety-nine percent sure my balls are empty.”

  I grinned into the crook of his neck. “You want to have babies with me?”

  “I feel like this is a trick question. Last time I told you I wanted to see you pregnant with my kid, you slapped my dick. Not that it would matter at this point. I’m numb from the waist down.”

  I sat back on my heels and stared down at his handsome face. His eyes were still closed, but a small smile rested on his lips. I pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

  “I swear, it’s not a trick question, baby.”

  He chuckled softly. “If it isn’t a trick question, then it’s you trying to goad me into sex. I know your game, Crazy. And we both know you’re still on the pill, so it’s a moot point anyway.”

  I sighed in annoyance. Damn him for being so smart. Even though he couldn’t see it, I flipped him off and then rested my back against the headboard in defeat. I had thought the whole baby thing would’ve helped plead my “let’s bone” case because, despite the fact that we had yet to get married, Thatch had been bringing up the whole “let’s have kids” conversation more and more these days. If he didn’t have a giant snake tucked inside his pants, I’d probably wonder if he was a woman.

  His biological cock is definitely ticking. Wait. Clock. Not cock.

  But seriously, his cock. His perfect, long, thick cock. I want it so fucking bad.

  I sighed again and crossed my arms over my chest. Was it really too much to ask for a little morning sex, even though I hadn’t let him go to bed until two in the morning because after our first night fuck session, I had demanded a second time and a third time and then a fourth time before bed? I didn’t think so.

  He sensed my annoyance and finally opened his eyes, meeting my frustrated gaze. “Honey, I’m not saying no because I don’t want you. I want you all the fucking time. I’m literally saying no
because I can’t physically get it up.” He lifted up the sheet and gestured down to his boxers with a nod of his head. “You’ve literally fucked my morning wood away. And that’s saying something considering every morning for the last twenty-plus years, I’ve woken up with a hard-on.”

  He was right. His boner wasn’t giving me his usual hello, and that was very unlike him. He always greeted me in the morning.

  I rested my head against the headboard and groaned. “I’m just so horny right now. I feel like I will go crazy if I don’t come in the next five minutes. Do you want to shoulder that, Thatch? Knowing you’re the one who pushed me over the edge.”

  He glanced over at me and smirked. “We’ve already established you’re crazy, honey. Beautiful but crazy. Sexy as fuck but crazy.”

  “You love my crazy.”

  “Obviously. I let you break my dick.”

  “I did not break your dick,” I said, even though my eyes were now fixated on his crotch. Did I break his dick? I started to wonder if we needed to take him to the hospital.

  He snorted. “Yeah, honey, you did.”

  “What if I suck on you for a little bit?”

  He shut his eyes again and seemed content to fall back asleep. “My cock needs a break. You could shove your tits in my face, and I wouldn’t care at this point.”

  Why didn’t I think of that? He could never resist my boobs.

  He peeked out of one eye and added, “That’s not a challenge.”

  I groaned again. “You’re turning into an old man.”

  “You weren’t saying that last night when you were begging me to put my mouth on you.”

  “Yes, please. Do that.”

  Both of his eyes opened to meet my unsatisfied and sex-consumed gaze. “You’re that riled, honey?”

  I nodded. “I need to get off. So fucking bad.”

  He moved over top of me and caged me in with his thick arms. “You want my mouth?”

  “Yes.”

  His fingers brushed aside the strap of my tank top as his tongue licked a path from my shoulder to my neck. “You need to come?” he breathed into my ear.

  My nipples hardened. “More than I need to breathe.”