Banking the Billionaire (Billionaire Bad Boys, #2)(66)

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.