BABY DADDY Read Online Free PDF Page B

Part of the island’s local industry.”
    My designer hormones are going hyper. “Oh my god, I wanna go there. Will you take me there?”
    “Of course.”
    “Can we go tomorrow?”
    “We’ll see.”
    “We’ll see?”
    He has this naughty gleam in his eyes. “Ask me again tomorrow. But I doubt if you’d want to leave the bed.”
    My cheeks heat up. “Oh.”
    “We’d be very busy in the next few days. We have plenty of time next week.”
    What can I possibly say to that? It’s perfect.
    Wait, next week? I only need to be with him for a week, but I do not correct him.
    I’m suddenly feeling shy. Now that he’s accepted my proposition and is talking about it casually, I feel my nerves catching up on me. I came up to him with swaggering confidence at the bar but that was just bravado fueled by my desperation.
    What I am is a thirty-seven year old woman who has not had sex in the last…ever. It’s embarrassing to even think about, much less talk about.
    Me, a very successful self-made woman, a billionaire for christ’s sake, who can have a pick of lovers from the supermodels who regularly walk the runways clad in my collection every season, is still a virgin. Technically, that is. If people knew, I’d make Page Six again as the regular punch line.
    My occasional dinner dates with fellow single billionaires at strategic places in different parts of the world have given me the reputation as a woman in absolute control of her ship. In truth, those dates were no more than business transactions. They were mostly investors in my expanding mini-empire.
    I’d like to consider that my few petting sessions with my asshole of an ex a long time ago were sex but they didn’t count really. There was no actual penetration.
    Sitting in front of me is a much younger man who I’m absolutely sure is light years ahead of me in carnal experience.
    The contrast is staggering and demoralizing. But he doesn’t have to know.
    “Alright…” I say.
    “You were so far away for a while. Have you changed your mind?”
    “No!” I hastily reply in a louder voice.
    He arches a brow. “Sure?”
    “Yes! I’m sure.”
    “I have a demanding appetite.”
    Oh boy. Here we go again.
    “But I’m sure you can handle it. Right?”
    I give him an irked look. He gives me a wicked grin. He’s either teasing me or testing me.
    “Why did you blow off those young women at the bar?”
    “How did you know I blew them off?”
    “It was obvious. They were about to rip my hair off my scalp when you shifted your attention to me.”
    He shrugs. “Blame it on my Rubenesque taste.”
    “Rubenesque…?” I look at him blankly for a few seconds, then it clicks. I throw one of the pillows at him.
    He catches it, chuckling. “Hey, it was a compliment!”
    Indeed, he had a choice at the bar between me and those women. He chose me. I’m absolutely sure he likes my looks nor do I have reason to doubt his Rubenesque taste. It’s what got me in this yacht with him. “You don’t have to sugarcoat it with fancy art terms, you know. Just call me fat,” I say in feigned annoyance.
    “Christ, you women are so cruel to your own bodies. You have a fantastic body, Ella. You’re perfect.”
    Perfect. Nobody has said that of me.
    Ever.
    His eyes are bathing me in pure masculine appreciation I want to melt all over again. Man, have I lucked out too much today? This is just getting better and better.
    I smile at him, joy suffusing my entire being, my confidence soaring for real now. The man is great for my ego, too. “Rubenesque. I’m kinda liking the sound of that. Sounds cooler than plus-size.”
    “You’re beautiful. Always remember that.”
    Oh God. Will you stop?
    “Thank you. I’m not insecure of my body. Not anymore. I’ve accepted that I’ll never be Size 6, much less Size 4. I’ll always be 12 or more, depending on my appetite level, which escalates during the Fashion Weeks in New York and Paris. Pressure makes me eat more.”
    “Why is your