Banking the Billionaire (Bad Boy Billionaires Book 2) by Max Monroe Page B

out that you were actually moving in with him.”
    That had me smiling big. I loved that my plan to mess with him this morning actually worked. I didn’t usually set a precedent of making myself at home at someone else’s place. I just had a feeling Thatch wouldn’t know what the fuck to do if I made myself comfortable in his bed while he was getting ready to leave for work.
    She pointed at my face. “So, you were screwing with him this morning!”
    “Oh, yeah,” I said, nodding in confirmation. “I was most definitely screwing with him. You should have seen his face when I got back in his bed, turned on the TV, and started asking him what channels he got.”
    But really, I’d had a blast lounging all over his apartment this morning. If I didn’t love Georgie so much, I’d probably still be there, drowning hours in bacon and DVR and anything else I could get my hands on.
    Georgia laughed, loud and boisterous. “Holy shit, that’s awesome! I love that you did that. He’s the ultimate prankster. It’s about time he got a taste of his own medicine.”
    I smirked. “I know. I wish I would’ve recorded it.”
    “The only other thing he told Kline was that… well …” She paused, eyeing me with an amused look. “The sleep-fucking worked. Like it really worked.”
    I thought over her words for a good thirty seconds until I finally caught what she was putting down. “Oh, fuck,” I said through a laugh. “Definitely not Sleepless in Seattle .”
    “Nope. More like Comatose in New York,” she agreed.
    I replayed the sex in my head and realized I had actually passed out— on his cock —and I did this before he finished. “Man, talk about a bitch move.”
    “Yep. It was like something out of How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days ,” she agreed again.
    I cringed before asking, “Are we speaking only in movie-isms now?”
    She shrugged, but she didn’t look like she thought it was the worst idea in the world.
    My usual devil-may-care attitude had up and gone hiking. “In my defense, I was running on two hours of sleep from the night before. But still, I kind of feel like an asshole.” Doing the ole dine and dash on someone’s dick was almost never called for.
    Georgia let out a quiet laugh. “Yeah, you probably should.”
    The ogre was right; I did owe him. Because, let’s face it, if Thatch had done that to me, I would’ve been fucking pissed. I honestly had to give the guy props for handling it so well, seeing as I was still alive and everything.
    I had always lived my life by one motto: I couldn’t please everyone, I didn’t care to please everyone, but I could motherfucking please myself. Which I did, often .
    But for some odd reason, I found myself actually caring about what Thatch thought and trying to find a way to make it right. And the more I thought about it, the worse I felt. It was a foreign concept to me, but even I couldn’t deny I had pulled a big-time bitch move last night.
    Maybe there’s some way I can make it right?
    Georgia pointed at my face. “I know that look. What are you planning?”
    Man, those cheese fries are really wreaking havoc on my stomach . It was in turmoil.
    When I shrugged my uncertainty, she made a suggestion of her own. “Maybe he’s finally getting a little glimpse into what he puts everyone else through.”
    “Little Wheorgie is encouraging my scheming ways?”
    Georgia nodded, and a devilish smile consumed her lips.
    “Is it safe to assume this has everything to do with Thatch including the gargoyle dick in his best man speech?”
    “You bet that prankster’s ass it does.”
    Thatcher had finally met his match in me.
    His match.
    At pranking , I told myself. But the seed was already planted, and there was no way I’d be able to keep it from growing.

    I strode through Thatch’s building and straight for his assistant’s desk.
    “Hi, I’ve got a last-minute meeting with Thatcher Kelly.”
    She looked up from her computer, and hesitance etched her face.