BABY DADDY Read Online Free PDF

feeling.
    It’s so liberating!
    “Very inappropriate for a lady like you.”
    “But I’m not a lady for a whole month,” I quip.
    He chuckles. “I like you. You’re a no-bullshit woman.”
    “Only because you’re so hot-looking I have to dumb myself down to hold your attention. Otherwise, I gotta warn you, I’m a class A bitch.”
    His laughs out loud this time.
    I take in the marvelous sound like a sweet balm to my senses. If I’ll have a son, I hope he laughs just like that when he becomes a man.
    “You’re the hottest woman on this island,” he declares and pulls me towards him.
    Thunder and lightning ignite inside me.
    He’s so warm and hard and yet his touch is nothing but the gentlest.
    We stare in each other’s eyes.
    I feel like I’m in a parallel universe and in that existence, time flies back like the North Wind. Taking a decade away from my weary soul. Wiping away mountains of fears and self-loathing. Obliterating any remaining doubt in my mind.
    “What’s your name?” I finally ask.
    He bends his neck and kisses me.
    Oh. God.
    This sunset.
    This kiss.
    Spell perfection.
    I close my eyes and allow myself to feel young again. Like I’m being kissed for the very first time. Like I haven’t been devastated by a lying, cheating opportunist. Like my heart has no layers upon layers of scar tissues wrapped around it for years.
    His kiss feels so good.
    Slow.
    Savoring.
    So fucking divine.
    “Raiden,” he whispers on my lips.
    I open my eyes. “Raiden,” I breathe dreamily.
    I’m absolutely sure now. Baby Dada is THIS.
    “I’m Ella.”

THREE

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    25 CONTROVERSIAL QUOTES FROM THE STYLE EMPRESS
    On being single:
    "Not all women can handle the thought of being single,
    much less the practice. Solitude is an art.
    It takes extensive training to live alone.
    Like an addiction, it’s hard to kick out of your system.
    I cannot imagine the withdrawal syndrome.”
    Stella Rhodes
    __________________________________________________
    WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME I went out with a man to have a simple, quiet dinner? I can’t remember. So, don’t ask me the last time I got laid. That's not even in the map. No wonder my eggs are drying up.
    But they’re about to get showered.
    Oh boy, my thoughts. My wicked, wicked thoughts.
    “I thought this is your favorite restaurant?”
    “It is. What can you say?” He spread his arms towards the expanse of the yacht situated some 200 meters from the beach which we reached via a high-powered jet ski.
    I still can’t get over the exhilaration of riding behind a man on a speeding jet ski, my thighs hugging his hips and my arms wrapped around his washboard abs as the last rays of the fading sun illuminated our way. I’ll reminisce about that later or my mind will scramble like Text Twist from the sigh-worthy memory. He seemed to have noticed I was enjoying the ride so we circled the yacht a few times before we boarded it.
    The yacht is medium-size and designed as a spacious cabana complete with tropical landscaping and a jacuzzi that would probably fit a dozen people. In itself, it’s a tiny island. Very private. It doesn’t have the usual tables for fine dining but clusters of chaise lounges filled with colorful throw pillows embroidered and beaded with tribal designs. The architecture is a blend of Japanese and Balinese. The deck is hardwood and the ceiling is adorned with intricate wood carvings.
    “It’s…breathtaking.” I steal his vocabulary. “Too awesome for words.” I look at him the way he looked at me at the beach.
    He grins. “Glad you like it.”
    I scrutinize a throw pillow. “I gotta have these fabrics! I wonder where they make these.” I’m thinking of the coming Fashion Week. I’m doing the shows in New York and Paris. I’ll Skip London and Milan this year. These fabrics will look perfect in my spring/summer collection.
    “There’s a small village here where the people weave them.