Tapping Her (Bad Boy Billionaires #1.5)(25)

He sighed in response, shutting his eyes and holding the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and thumb. “Tell me your tits are out again. Please. I’m at the end of my rope here, but your tits have the ability to make all kinds of things grow.”

I glanced down at my chest. Shit. “Uh, it’s a really thin bra.”

Yeah, I didn’t have a bra on, and the air conditioning blasting in the cab had my nipples at full attention. It wasn’t even on purpose. I’d been in the shower when Bob had called, and the second he told me the vet found Walter, I hauled ass to Thatch’s office.

“Is it made out of f*cking air?” he asked, voice hopeful and irritated at once. It seemed Thatcher was losing patience with the whole Walter, Cassie, and Thatch circus.

“What the f*ck does it matter to you?” I snapped back. “If I want to walk around without a bra, that’s my business, dude.”

“Trust me, it’s everyone’s business when they have the power to save humanity from my mental breakdown.”

“My nipples do not talk, and they don’t have the power to save lives.”

He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. “Honey, they do. All they’re doing right now is waving hello, and I already feel a million times better than I did five minutes ago. I bet Jenk feels better too.”

Jenk didn’t respond. And frankly, I took offense to that. Thatch noticed the change in me and pulled my attention back to him.

“Actually, right now, your tits are doing a ‘we’re stuck on a desert island and trying to wave down a plane,’ kind of wave. Not just a hello. That means their power is double.”

The ridiculousness of this entire conversation had me laughing. “Fuck, for a numbers guy, you’re imaginative. I’ll give you that.”

He smirked. “Your tits put all sorts of creative ideas in my head, honey.”

I eye-f*cked him for a good ten seconds, honing in on the crotch of his dress slacks before meeting his eyes. “Put your boner away, Thatcher.”

He glanced at my tits and then his dark brown eyes held my gaze as he nodded toward them. “Do it for me, Cassie.”

We were at a stalemate, just staring at one another, the “let’s f*ck” tension building with each second, and I wasn’t sure if it would end with me smacking the shit out of him or getting his dick out. Hell, maybe both.

The cab’s brakes squealed as we came to an abrupt stop, and my face almost hit the back of the driver’s seat.

“We’re here!” Jenk shouted over his shoulder. “Fifteen bucks and I don’t got f*cking change.”

While Thatch pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and tossed money into the front seat, I hopped out and turned toward the open window on the driver’s side, ready to give the cabbie a piece of my mind.

“Wow, you really f*cking suck at—” I started to say, but strong arms wrapped around my middle and carried me toward the entrance of the animal hospital.

“Fuck you hard, Thatcher! That guy needs to know he’s a f*cking *!” I shouted loud enough for most of Manhattan to hear.

Thatch just laughed in my ear while carrying me toward the doors. Each chuckle fueled my fake rage.

“The second you set me down, I’d protect my balls if I were you.”

His lips were near my ear. “I’d love to wrestle you, maybe wind up tangled in your deliciously free tits, but we’re about to go in to get Walter, and if you’re acting like a lunatic, they probably won’t let us take him home. And if we don’t get that little * home, then you’ll be the one who has to break that news to Georgia.”

He was so strong and gentle at the same time, and he didn’t seem anything but amused by my antics. I ignored the mating call from my puss-ay. If it were up to her, I’d have Thatch’d that in the cab. “Fine. Just set me down, motherf*cker.”

He set me down, and I strode into the office, not wasting any time holding the door for him.




“We’ve tried to separate them, but Walter isn’t really having it,” the vet tech stated vaguely, guiding us toward the back room where cages were lined up and stacked on top of one another.

“What do you mean ‘Walter isn’t really having it’?” Thatch asked, sliding his hands into his pockets as we stood in front of a cage holding one big motherf*cker of a dog.

“Well…” She trailed off hesitantly. “He just gets really upset.”

I put a hand on my hip. “Upset? You’re going to have to explain what Walter getting upset looks like. That cat generally shows two emotions—utter indifference or satisfaction from spending three hours licking his *.”

Thatch nodded. “Yeah, he’s pretty big on the * licking. Is that normal?”

“Um, yes. Actually, that’s very normal,” she responded as she opened a drawer by the dog’s cage. “Cats are predators. Their instincts are to clean themselves to avoid being scented by their prey.”

Thatch smirked at me while Julie, the vet tech, was busy rummaging through a drawer full of collars and leashes. “Maybe we should start licking your tits to see if it’d help deter horny motherf*ckers from staring,” he whispered.

I cocked an eyebrow. “We?”

He shrugged. “Figured you’d need help. Most chicks can’t get their tongues to their nipples without pulling a muscle in the process.”