Banking the Billionaire (Bad Boy Billionaires #2) - Max Monroe Page 0,2

feeling like he meant know in the biblical sense. And I was the only one who knew he didn’t know me like that.

“She happened to show me some pictures she had taken of you, and I gotta—”

“Cassie has a picture of me on her camera?”

“Oh, yeah, baby, she sure does. You’re shirtless, and I can’t deny I’m interested.”

“You’re interested?” Thatch’s voice was laced with confusion.

“Yes. I’m very interested. And Cass happened to mention you were single. And well, I’m single. I think we’d hit it off. So, I was wondering if you’d like to grab a drink sometime?”

“And Cassie told you this was something I’d be interested in?”

Joshua’s gaze shot to mine, but he kept his composure on the phone. “Not in so many words, but, yeah.”

A soft chuckle filled the receiver. “Well, Joshua, it’s a pleasure to talk with you, truly, but I’ve got a bit of a problem with this scenario.”

“Oh.” His voice was dejected. “And what would that be?”

“I’m kind of in love with a set of talking tits. And the owner of said mystic wonders is pretty fucking head over heels for my cock.”

“I’m not in love with your cock, T-bag,” I responded, and Josh’s and Olivia’s eyes aimed right at me.

Joshua stared at me for a few seconds and then flipped me off.

“You are a bigger bitch than love,” he told me with an amused grin, handing me his phone and whispering into my ear, “You totally want to get Thatched, you little floozy. And don’t think I’ll forget about this anytime soon. You owe me, Phillips. You owe me big.”

I laughed and shook my head. “Nah, I just like fucking with him. And how big are we talking here?”

“A new boyfriend with a ten-inch snake coiled inside his pants.”

“Ten inches?” My eyes went wide. “You can take that much?”

“Oh, yeah. My deep throat game is strong.” Joshua winked. “And you’re a liar, by the way. You want that big, bad man between your thighs,” he added in a whisper before heading toward the other tent to clean up.

I switched the phone off speaker mode, and Thatcher’s deep voice filled my ear. “You know you don’t have to create these elaborate pranks just to hear my voice, honey. The subscription messages and now this. Seems like a lot of extraneous effort when you can call me any fucking time.”

“Bye, Thatcher,” I said in dismissal, feigning annoyance even though I was anything but annoyed. Thanks to the photo and Thatch’s throaty fucking chuckle, I was too busy picturing him driving his big train through my tunnel.

“Be good, Cassie.”

“I’m always good.”

He laughed. “I’m having a hard time believing that. Tell Joshua I appreciated the call and the offer. And if I wasn’t into pussy, I would’ve taken him out for a nice dinner, some drinks, and then back to my place so I could fuck his brains out.”

“You paint such a pretty picture. Are you sure you don’t want to give him a shot? Who knows? Maybe you’ll love the D?”

“You think?” he asked, audibly playing along even though we both knew when Thatcher Kelly pounded something, it was pussy.

“I let you kiss me, so stranger things have happened.”

His voice dropped a few octaves. “You wearing a bra right now?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“You wearing a bra or not wearing a bra always has everything to do with everything. It’s literally never off topic.”

I shook my head but glanced down at my T-shirt. “This shouldn’t surprise you, but no, I’m not.”

If there was one thing Thatcher Kelly loved, it was my boobs. For all I knew, he had a fan club dedicated to the mounds on my chest.

“Yeah, I’m hard at that visual. It’s safe to say I’m straight as an arrow.”

“Put your boner away, Thatcher.”

“Come help me,” he dared.

“That’s a lovely offer, but I’m not in New York. “

“Where are you?”

“Key West.”

“And when are you coming home?”

“Not for another couple of days,” I answered honestly.

“You should call me when you’re back in town.”

“Oh, I should? And why would I do that?”

“Because you can’t stop thinking about me.”

I stared out toward the darkening blue sea. I couldn’t deny he was slightly correct on that front. Almost two months ago, we had spent an ungodly amount of time together while watching Kline and Georgia’s cat, while they banged like bunnies in Bora Bora on their honeymoon.

The cat watching had turned to cat searching when Walter had gone missing for a few days, and somehow during