Banking the Billionaire (Billionaire Bad Boys, #2)(36)

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."

"He's going to go pro," I added.

Thatch's brows shot up, intrigued.

"Hoping to go pro. Nothing set in stone yet," Sean chimed in.

"He'll go pro," I announced. "He's that good."

"He'll go fucking pro!" my mother added.

Thatch grinned.

Sean rolled his eyes but didn't say anything else. He knew better. When  Momma Diane says you're going to fucking do something, you'll do it.

My brother would have been drafted into the NFL had he not gotten  injured at the end of his junior year. But he had been training his ass  off for the past year, and I was more than confident he'd get there. His  talent wasn't something you could teach. It was ingrained in him. And  one day soon, he'd achieve his dream of playing professional football.

"All right, let's get a move on it," my brother said as he grabbed his  keys, wallet, and cell phone from the kitchen counter. "It's leg day,  and I've gotta get at least two hours of weights in before cardio."         

     



 

Thatch pressed a soft kiss to my lips. "Be fucking good while I'm gone,  Crazy," he whispered into my ear before heading upstairs to my bedroom  to change his clothes.

My mother's gaze met mine-after I'd thoroughly exhausted the watch on  Thatch's retreat-and she held up her watering can and gestured for me to  follow her out onto the back deck.

While she watered her potted plants, I stared at the breathtaking view  of clear skies and mountains. I would never get tired of this view or  the fresh Oregon air. It all felt worlds away from the cluttered, noisy  streets of New York.

"I really like Thatch," my mother announced as she moved from her roses to her lilies. "I think he's good for you."

"But what if I'm not good for him?"

She turned toward me and searched my eyes. "What do you mean not good for him?"

"I don't know." I plopped down onto one of the deck chairs and let out a  long sigh. "It's just that I've never been very good at committing to  things. Have I always been this way?"

"You've always been pretty spontaneous," she answered. "But I wouldn't say you're bad at commitment."

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Mom," I scoffed. "Don't blow smoke up my ass. Remember fifth grade when I wanted to try the piano?"

She smiled and nodded. "Yes. You only lasted one month."

"And then gymnastics? How long did I last with that?"

"Three weeks," she answered.

"There's at least ten more hobbies we could add to that list, and we  haven't even started on my lack of relationship history. I'm starting to  think there's something wrong with me. Like maybe I'm lacking some kind  of gene."

"Sweetheart, there is nothing wrong with you," she disagreed.

"Yes, there is. I'm flighty and flaky."

"Yeah, maybe you're a little flighty when it comes to things you're not  really into, but I think you're selling yourself short, Cassie. I've  seen you when you really want something, really love something, and  there's no stopping you. You commit yourself one hundred and ten  percent."

"Like when?"

"Photography," she responded without a second thought. "You wanted it,  and look at you now," she pointed out. "You have a highly successful  photography career that most people would kill for."

"Yeah, but I think photography is different, Mom. That's my career, not my love life."

"I don't think it's different, baby. I think when you meet the man  you're supposed to spend the rest of your life with, it'll be like  photography all over again, but more intense, more all-consuming. You'll  want to spend more time with him. You won't be able to stop yourself  from picturing a future with him."

"Is that how it was with Dad?"

She set her watering can down and leaned her hip against the deck  railing. "I just knew with him. To my fucking soul, I knew I didn't want  to live a life without him in it," she said with a wistful smile. "So  don't be so hard on yourself. Thatch will be one lucky bastard if he  ends up being that person for you. You're beautiful, kind, funny, and  have one of the biggest hearts I've ever seen. Don't ever forget that."

I want to be good for Thatch, and I want him to be that person for me.