Thatcher kisses the nape of my neck before whispering, “Okay?” “Yes.” Oh my God, yes. If I blink three times, I feel like this raw, sexual, warrior of a man will disappear in a poof, and I’m wide-eyed and too eager. Banks… is staring right at me. He nearly laughs. Am I panting? Am I childishly head-over-heels? My face is on fire. “I like your brother,” I state outright. “Right on.” He smiles and swigs his beer.
