Banking the Billionaire (Bad Boy Billionaires Book 2)(115)

I pressed my forehead to his and locked our gazes. “Yes. Marry me. Make me the luckiest f*cking 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 f*cking 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 f*cking 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-f*cking-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 f*cking 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 motherf*cker 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 f*cking 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 f*cking 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 f*cking 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 * 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 * 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 * is probably frowned upon by the majority of the population. But they don’t have to live with her.

I do.

And f*ck, she is bossy, and I’m starting to wonder if she is on a one-* 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.”