Made for Him: A Mafia Baby Romance Read Online Free PDF Page A

volunteer work tonight. I can’t skip it.” I hate myself, and for a brief second I hate the soup kitchen, because my post-climax body wants nothing more than to spend every waking second with him. But what kind of woman ditches helping the needy to get laid?
    No, I can’t do that.
    Even with as appealing as it sounds.
    He looks impatient. “Tomorrow night then?”
    I wince. “Cocktail party for a new partner. I can’t miss it.”
    This irritates him. “Then I want you Friday night.”
    “Okay,” I breathe. “I’m free then.”
    “And Saturday night?” he asks, wrapping an iron arm around my waist and yanking me close.
    I giggle at the sudden movement, feeling…well, feeling girlish . A hint of his dimple appears again, and a sudden pang grips at my heart.
    No! I tell myself. Be strong! Just because you’re pregnant with his baby doesn’t mean you have to be stupid!
    “I don’t know about Saturday,” I lie. I do know—I’m free. But I’m also scared of letting him too close. “You know, Matteo, just because of this…situation…” I glance down at where my stomach is pressed against his. “It doesn’t mean that we have to date. If you still want to be part of this baby’s life, then adoption or not, we can try to find a way to make that work without us having a relationship.”
    His thick brows draw together and the full intensity of those bright blue eyes zeroes in on me. “After all that happened in this office just now, are you really interpreting that to have come out of obligation? I said I want you, that I want you to be mine. Yes, I meant your body, but I also meant you , Jessica Simmons.” He pulls me even tighter against him, his other hand caressing my hair.
    “We barely know each other,” I insist, swallowing.
    “So?” He sounds so nonchalant, as if knowing each other has nothing to do with it.
    Frustrated, I brace my hands against his chest and push myself away. “We can’t date just because I’m pregnant!” I say.
    “Princess, even if you weren’t pregnant, I would be begging to see you,” he tells me matter-of-factly. “You’ve got the kind of pussy a man can’t forget.”
    “A man like you can get pussy anywhere,” I say—a little petulantly—and cross my arms.
    This seems to amuse him. “If you’re the one afraid of attachment, why so jealous, sweetheart?” When I don’t answer, he steps forward and slides his hands over my hips. “And to answer your adorably jealous assertion, yes, a man like me can get pussy anywhere.”
    I stiffen and try to pull away, but he doesn’t let me.
    “But do you really think,” he continues, holding tight to me, “that I can find a fantastic fuck that’s also a woman as smart and spirited and ambitious as you are?”
    I scoff. “You don’t know me. You don’t know if I’m any of those things.”
    The look on his face sends a real chill down my spine, a true pang of fear. “You’d be surprised how much I know about you,” he says quietly, a little ominously. Warning bells light off in my brain, but then that dimple appears and my powers of reasoning are shot. It’s criminal for a man to be this handsome.
    “Give me this weekend,” he murmurs, still smiling. “Stay at my house.”
    “It’s too soon,” I protest—but faintly. The better, feminist angel on my shoulder is also preoccupied with that dimple.
    “Why?”
    And I don’t have a great answer to that. To be honest, I’ve done the modern dating thing—three times, in fact. I’ve dated men who weren’t interested in commitment and I’ve pretended not to be interested either—until Nate at least, where I really thought there would be a ring coming in my near future. Instead all I got was a blurry text from a mutual friend showing him balls-deep in a coffee-jockey.
    I’ve done the thing where I’ve been an empowered woman and tried not to care about monogamy or dedication or romance. I’ve paid for restaurant bills and bar tabs, gone dateless to