Banking the Billionaire (Bad Boy Billionaires Book 2)(62)

His large palm cupped my cheek as his gaze stayed locked with mine. “I know,” he rasped as if he had heard my silent plea. “I know, honey. Same f*cking page. Always.”

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 f*cking 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 f*cking 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 f*cking mother hen.”

I shot a glare in his direction. “I’m your big sister. I’m supposed to f*cking worry about you.”

“That’s e-f*cking-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 f*cking 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.