Banking the Billionaire (Bad Boy Billionaires Book 2)(68)

“Nope. But there are always two certainties with Lifetime movies. One,” I said, holding up one finger in his direction, “is that the acting is always terrible. And two—” I held up another finger “—they’re predictable as f*ck.”

He chuckled as he sat down beside me. “Then why watch them?”

“Are you kidding me? Because Lifetime movies are addictive. They’re so awful they’re good.”

“That makes zero sense.”

I shrugged. “Yeah, well, consider it another mystery of the female population. Who knows why women love these movies? But they do, and I’m a testament to that very fact.”

“That’s unfortunate for you,” he teased.

“You know what’s unfortunate?” I pointed the remote toward the screen. “That Deb can’t figure out her twin sister Julianna is a f*cking psychopath.”

“Which one is which?” he asked, opening the bag and pulling out a large white foam container. After setting it on the table, he reached up to loosen his tie. Climbing to my knees, I pushed his hands out of the way and did it for him. His eyes looked like melted chocolate.

The leather felt cool on my shins, so I rolled back over to sit beside him.

“Deb is the one that looks like she just rose from the dead. She obviously needs a tutorial on good Goth makeup. And Julianna is the cunt with the long blond hair,” I answered, watching him lift the lid of the container. Once the aroma of refried beans and cheese and salsa and chicken hit my nose, I damn near dove face first into the food. “Did you get nachos?” I asked excitedly.

He winked. “Sure did, honey.”

“I’m going to let that f*cking wink slide because you just made my night.” I grabbed one of the chips from the container and took a crunchy bite. “Mmmmmmm,” I moaned over a mouthful.

“Good?”

“Javelina has the best nachos in the city.” I nodded. “I’d do a lot of things for these nachos.”

“How about you give me a kiss as thanks?” he suggested, pointing to his cheek.

I got up on my knees once more and pressed my lips to his cheek. “Thanks, honey. How’d you know I was in the mood for nachos?”

He grabbed my hips and lifted me into his lap with ease, and his strong hands rearranged my legs so that I straddled his thighs. “You mentioned them,” he answered, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear.

I tilted my head, combing the flecks of subtle gold speckled throughout his irises. “I’m not much for spouting sentimental bullshit, but I should say that I really enjoy when you’re sweet like this. Especially when you feed me my favorite nachos.”

“I’ll make a mental note that nachos are the true way to your heart.” He smirked and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of my mouth.

I pointed to the other corner of my mouth.

He kissed that too.

I gestured to my nose.

His lips followed that demand as well.

When I pointed to my lips, he slid his fingers into my hair and held my gaze for a few poignant seconds, his eyes searching deep into mine. For what, I’m not sure, but I couldn’t deny the flutter in my belly and the quickening of my breath as his mouth moved toward mine. I watched his lashes sweep down, and the second I felt his lips, my eyes fell closed.

The kiss was demanding from the onset, his tongue slipping past my lips and dancing with mine in the hopes of producing a moan. His fingers stayed in my hair, caressing the strands and encouraging me to deepen the kiss together. Which I did willingly, because f*ck, this man could kiss. His soft, full lips held all sorts of power. They could’ve convinced me to do just about anything in that moment.

“Fuck, Cassie,” he groaned as his hands slid down my back and grabbed my ass. He pulled my hips closer to his, and I finally gave him the moan he was hoping for, right against his mouth. The Supercock was hard and ready, pressed against me.

Delicious nachos and the Lifetime movie were long forgotten.

I wanted him. Hell, I needed him to the point that I was stunned by my desperation. The moment was fueled by lust yet laced with an undertone of something more, something different, something my brain couldn’t fully process.

Far off in the distance—as in the same room—I heard a rustling behind us.

But I ignored it, too consumed with this sexy-as-f*ck man. My hands moved down his broad shoulders and slid over the muscles of his biceps. He was cut. His body was one I could spend hours and hours examining with my mouth and probably never have my fill.

The rustling grew louder, and a few snorts accompanied the noise.

Shit.

Thatch paused and pulled away from the kiss. His head tilted to the side as his gaze stared deep into mine. “Did you just snort?”

I had two options in this scenario. Either fess up and risk popping the soon-to-be bubble of hot and sweaty sex or… “Yes,” I lied.

Obviously, option two was the best choice. I wanted him naked and between my thighs, and I had a feeling if I revealed my teacup surprise, Thatch wouldn’t be feeling all that horny.

Angry? Yes. Horny? Probably not.

His face grew skeptical, the line of his mouth turning down minutely, and he attempted to glance around me, but I grabbed both of his cheeks and forced our noses together.

A few more snorts came from behind us, and I joined in the barnyard orchestra, snorting louder and more obnoxiously than Phil—who had obviously managed to wake up and make his way into the living room—and doing it directly into Thatch’s face.