Banking the Billionaire (Bad Boy Billionaires Book 2)(114)

“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 f*cking 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?”