Banking the Billionaire (Bad Boy Billionaires Book 2)(45)

“Fuck!”

“What?” Cassie asked, jumping up from her spot next to Frankie and coming toward me.

Over a goddamn decade in this city, and I’d finally been pickpocketed. All because my brain had been more concerned about the bump in the front of my pants than keeping the one in the rear.

“What happened?” Frankie called with a crease in his brow as the corners of my mouth started to turn up.

It was completely possible I was actually losing my mental stability. I’d just been taken for the first time in my life. I’d have to get on the phone immediately to cancel all of my shit, go to the DMV for a new license, alert the doorman of my apartment, and never, ever get back the cash I’d had in there, and still, I was smiling. Because when I thought about how distracted I’d been, how irresponsible it was to let my guard down like that, it made me think about why I’d done it—and the way her lips had followed mine like they couldn’t get enough.

I shook my head with a laugh. “Somebody stole my wallet.”

“What?” Cassie shrieked, and Frankie’s brows pushed even closer together.

“How’d that happen?” Frankie asked.

I looked to Cassie’s face and didn’t even try to stop the smile on my own. “I guess I was distracted.”

She blushed, something I didn’t even think was possible when it came to her. She was not the kind of woman who dissolved into a puddle of embarrassment or should-haves, and she never apologized for anything. But she’d felt the same thing I had, that much was more apparent than ever, and the only thing that could make her flush like that was the unexpected.

I knew that was true because the same was true for me.

“I guess rule number twelve should be no kissing in public,” she said with a quick glance at Frankie as she hopped onto the counter in front of me.

I just shook my head. “No way.”

“Come on, Thatcher. The rules need a good, solid foundation, and it seems like this one is warranted.”

“I’ll burn the whole house of rules down. No rule number twelve.”

“Not ever?” she asked with faux seriousness.

I couldn’t find it in me to care that she was mocking me.

“Nope. It’ll be like the thirteenth floor of buildings. It just doesn’t exist.”

“Is it because you’re afraid of it?” she teased.

I shook my head. “It’s because if that rule exists, it’ll only be as a literal example of made to be broken.”

“Why waste the paperwork, then, huh?”

“Exactly.”





Me: Rule #25: Don’t use my body wash.



Thatch: But what if I’m using it on you?



Me: Are you asking for shower sex, Thatcher?



Thatch: I’m not asking, honey.



Me: Ohhhhh, T’s going all alpha male. Will Sir spank me later too?



Thatch: Only if Mistress Cassie begs.



Me: On my knees?



Thatch: You’re making me hard.



Me: Considering a f*cking breeze could get you hard, this is not surprising.



Thatch: YOU make me hard. All the f*cking time.



Me: Charming me with your snake?



Thatch: What can I say? I have my sweet moments.



Thatch: What are your plans today? Can you do me a favor?



Me: Nothing major. Just editing some photos. You want another office blow job?



Thatch: Yes, but let’s put that on the books for tomorrow. Today, I’ve got something else going on.



Me: And what’s that?



Thatch called my phone thirty seconds later.

“Well, hello, Master,” I teased.

His deep chuckle filled my ear. “Can you be flexible with your schedule today?”

“I can probably work something out. What’d you have in mind?”

“Well, I’m supposed to pick Mila up at one for a Central Park date, but I’ve got a last-minute investors meeting at noon that I can’t skip out on. By the time I get out of this, it will only give me ten minutes to get to Claire and Frankie’s.”

“You want me to pick her up and bring her to your office?” I offered. I generally wasn’t one to rearrange my schedule for a man, but Mila was an exception. I looked around Thatch’s apartment. It wasn’t like I had to travel from Guatemala to do it either.

Next time you have the opportunity to spend time with Mila you probably will be doing a shoot in Guatemala, the little voice inside my head told me. Don’t pass this up.

“Do you mind? Mila is always waiting for me on the front porch, and I’d feel like a bastard for showing up forty minutes late.”

“I’ll do it under one condition,” I negotiated.

I could tell he was smiling when he said, “And what would that be?”

“I’m driving your Audi.”

He laughed again. “You can drive the Audi, but only if you promise to stick around and hang out with us today.”

Yeah, I would have done that anyway. No way was I driving all the way up there to get her and not get to spend the day with her.