His Baby to Keep: A Forbidden Romance

by Katie Ford

  His Baby to Keep

  ~A Forbidden Romance~

  © 2018

  By Katie Ford

  Want to hear about our newest illicit romance? Addicted to virgins and alpha males? Join our mailing lists at www.subscribepage.com/alphamalesontop and get a FREE book just for joining!

  © 2018

  All Rights Reserved.

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  ALSO BY THE AUTHOR

  The#BABYCRAZY Series

  #BABYMACHINE

  #BABYMAKER

  #BABYFEVER

  The Filthy Wrestling Club

  Claiming His Virgin In the Ring

  Claiming His Virgin In the Pool

  Standalones

  My Friend’s Dirty Uncle

  The President, My Lover

  Client No. 6

  His Captive

  Buck Me Cowboy

  Beg Me: Sold To My Dad’s Boss

  Daddy’s Pretty Baby

  Loving the Babysitter

  Reverse Harem

  Seven Brothers of Sin

  Six Ways to Sin

  The Billionaires Club

  Sold at the Auction

  Virgin for Sale

  Serving Him

  Buy Me

  Anonymous Encounters

  MFMM Ménage Romance

  All the Best Men

  MMF Bisexual Romance

  Double Dare

  Double Exposure

  Their Secret

  The Falling Series

  Falling for My Dad’s Best Friend

  Falling for My Boyfriend’s Dad

  Falling for My Son’s Best Friend

  The Virgin Series

  Delivering the Virgin

  The Princes Series

  Double Princes

  Triple Princes

  Box Sets

  Taking the CEO Home

  Love Unbound

  DEDICATION

  To all the girls who choose light over dark.

  This one’s for you!

  NOTE FROM KATIE

  Hi! Thanks so much for reading His Baby to Keep: A Forbidden Romance. I hope you enjoy the steam between Fiona and her man.

  Plus, be sure to join our Facebook group Alpha Males on Top to hear about new releases, discounts, and freebies.

  Love,

  Katie

  ABOUT THIS BOOK

  His Baby to Keep: A Forbidden Romance

  I’m caught between two men: one good and one evil.

  But which one is my baby’s father?

  Fiona’s been hurt. Her boyfriend Ricky dumps her for no reason, leaving her empty and bewildered. So when she discovers that her ex has an identical twin, she’s immediately filled with suspicion. What good could come from trusting another handsome man?

  Dylan Masterson is nothing like his twin Ricky. Dylan’s rich and successful, while Ricky’s intent on screwing up his life. And when Dylan meets Fiona, he immediately wants the curvy girl. After all, the sassy BBW is innocent yet charming, sultry and sexy at once. But can he date his twin’s ex? Even more, what happens when Fiona reveals she’s pregnant … but that the baby could be his twin’s?

  Hey Readers – Ever craved a little filth? Well now your dreams are answered. Our heroine is naïve and innocent, but boy, does she grow up fast. Be sure to pack a fire extinguisher because you’ll need it! Xoxo, Katie

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  His Baby to Keep

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Epilogue

  Chapter 1

  FIONA

  Ricky sits opposite me at our little table by the window. The cafe is busy, but I’m focused on him. Trying to figure him out. Trying to figure us out. Where is this going? What do I mean to him?

  I eat my sandwich in silence, contemplating the boy as he slumps back nonchalantly, one of his muscled arms flung across the back of his chair. One finger flicks through his phone absentmindedly as his eyes scan left to right. He hasn’t looked at me once since we sat down, or even attempted any kind of conversation.

  What are you doing with this guy, Fiona? the voice in my head asks, bewildered. Why would you date someone who ignores you at lunch?

  But as I swallow bite after bite of my sandwich and continue scrutinizing him in silence, I know there’s no point in asking myself that question. I know the answer - Ricky Masterson is hot. Like, really hot. His tall, broad-shouldered frame is well-defined and muscled, his strong jaw covered with a dark stubble. He’s got piercing blue eyes and black hair that’s smoothed back casually. And he’s well-dressed too. Walking down the street with him, I often catch other girls checking him out before they catch a glimpse of me at his side. I can almost see them trying to decode the puzzle in their heads: Why’s he with her? Can’t he do better?

  Because guys like Ricky don’t date girls like me. Guys like Ricky don’t even look at girls like me. My average height, curly brown hair, brown eyes, and especially my curves just don’t figure on their radar. Guys who look like Ricky are into tall, leggy blondes with blue eyes and long lashes. Girls who are practically supermodels.

  After all, I see the perfect couples walking around together, and it looks right. It’s like seeing Ken and Barbie together. You don’t see Ken with a dumpy, chubby girl on his arm. You see him with lithe, elegant swans, and not ugly ducklings like me.

  So when Ricky showed interest in me at Kim’s party last year, I was over the moon. He was way out of my league, for one. Plus, the man seemed really into my huge tits and wide ass, and less focused on my soft rolls and wobbly thighs. We had this insane chemistry, and when he suggested we leave early together and go back to his, I didn’t hesitate.

  The sex was incredible that night. His cock was enormous and even though he didn’t make me cum, or cared much about making me cum, I still enjoyed it. It made me feel wanted, even if that seems a little sad. But sometimes, it feels good to be wanted, and Ricky craved my body for sure.

  But lately, it seems his pleasure is the only thing he cares about. That first night was actually the one time I got off, and it never happened again. Not that Ricky cares because he’s kind of a prick to be honest. Other than the sex, we don’t have that much in common. And even though he keeps asking me out, it always goes down the same way: we meet up, we have a drink or a bite to eat, we go back to his, we have sex, and he comes like a volcano. I don’t come. Then he makes some excuse and the date’s over. I keep thinking I should give it more time so we can get to know each other a little better. But at what point do you call it quits? This has been going on for a year now, and we never talk.

  Just then Ricky looks up from his phone with a bored expression. Glancing at my plate, he snorts a laugh.

  “What?” I ask him, surprised.

  Ricky sits up in his chair, combing his hair back through his fingers - an action that normally has me weak in the knees, but which now, combined with the arrogant look on his face, takes on the connotation of an asshole.

  “I can’t believe you ate the whole thing,” he smirks, gesturing at my plate, empty except for a few little crumbs. I’m dumbfounded. He takes the opportunity of my silence to continue berating me. “Good girls always leave at least half their meals on their plates, Fiona.”

  He must be joking. But when the expression on his face remains scornful,
I realize he’s being serious and I’m taken aback. What do I do?

  I decide to go the sassy route and make a joke of it. After all, maybe I just missed the punchline.

  “Good girls don’t like sandwiches, but I do!” I grin, hoping to make him laugh. Again, that I just misread him and he’s not actually being the prick I think he is. But unfortunately, this is no barrel of monkeys.

  “I can see that,” he says with a meaningful glance at my body. “You’ve got a lot to spare.”

  The blood drains out my face and my limbs feel numb. I can’t move. “Did you just call me fat?” I whisper.

  “Oh, come on, Fiona,” Ricky says, picking up his phone and avoiding my eyes. “It’s not like you’ve never looked in the mirror before. You know what you look like,” he adds cruelly. I’m dumbstruck. In the month we’ve been dating, he’s been a bit of a prick at times: uninterested at best, kind of rude and non-caring at worst - but never downright cruel like this.

  But I swallow the words on my tongue, and then go down like bitter poison. Because who am I kidding? Of course I know what I look like. That’s why I’m putting up with this kind of behavior. I’ve always wanted to date a guy who’s as hot as Ricky, and now that I finally am, I’m not about to blow it. Taking my lumps seems to be part of the equation. But then Ricky speaks.

  “Look, I don’t think this is working,” he sighs, not even looking up from his phone as he says it. “I mean, you’re fun and all, Fiona, but ….”

  “Are - are you breaking up with me?” I gasp. Oh my god, I can’t believe it. I’ve literally just decided to let his asshole comments go and to give him another chance, and yet he’s breaking up with me? “Why?” I whisper, trying to hold back the tears.

  Ricky sits up again, gesturing nonchalantly to himself, then at me, pretending to search for words he can’t find.

  “We’re not physically compatible, is what you’re trying to say?” I ask, my voice thick with tears.

  Ricky sighs as if he’s already tired.

  “Yeah - I mean don’t get me wrong. It’s been fun, the sex was pretty good. But I don’t really see this going anywhere,” he adds.

  I get up, the chair scraping over the floor. I can feel myself starting to cry and I refuse to give Ricky the satisfaction of seeing it.

  “Oh, don’t be like that, baby,” he says in the most insincere voice I’ve ever heard. But I’ve had it.

  “No, you're right, Ricky. I don’t see this going anywhere either,” I say as I hook my handbag over my shoulder, the world blurry before my eyes. And forcing my back straight, I walk away from our table and out of the cafe. He doesn’t follow me. He doesn’t try to apologize for upsetting me. As I walk past the window, from the corner of my eye I can see him just sitting back in his chair, continuing to play on his phone without a care in the world.

  Tears stream down my face as the humiliation catches up with me. The humiliation of being broken up with. The humiliation of his careless words, each one like a painful poison dart. God, it sucks. Plus, I’m back to being single, and who knows if there will ever be a guy interested in me again? I’ll probably die alone in my apartment with wolves eating my carcass. God. I hurry home to the comfort of bed, and the prospect of curling up on the sofa with an old romantic film and a generous helping of ice cream.

  Chapter 2

  FIONA

  I pull the rearview mirror of my car towards myself, craning my neck so I can see the reflection of my face. A little swollen, but not too bad. Nothing that make-up can’t fix.

  Because last night I allowed myself to cry and let the disappointment of my breakup with Ricky wash over me, with the resolution of getting up today and getting over it. My face was drawn and pale when I woke up, but with some carefully applied foundation and blush, I looked human and no longer like a corpse.

  I’d had my coffee, listened to a cool new album, and dressed myself in my favorite dress and boots - and by now I was feeling pretty fabulous. A new beginning! Having slept on it, I feel like a bit of a fool letting a prick like Ricky upset me like that. Why should I cry over a rude asshole like that? Because he was hot?!

  No, Fiona. No more, the voice in my head spoke. Ricky was your first hot guy, and if that's how hot guys are, he’ll be the last.

  So with an air of determination, I open the car door and walk towards the studio. Morning sunshine beats down on my hair, and I take a deep breath because today’s an important day: the president of Karmax Construction will be filming a TV spot at the studio, and it’s my job to do his make-up. It’s not like I’ve never had an assignment for a corporate advertising campaign before, but never one this important. After all, Karmax is huge, and its CEO is supposedly an incredibly charismatic billionaire. If I do a good job today, who knows what could happen afterwards? Maybe we’ll get more jobs. Maybe we’ll get word-of-mouth referrals.

  But suddenly, I frown. Didn’t Ricky also work for a construction company? Not that he actually worked, worked. It seemed he frequently overslept and sometimes didn't even bother to show up. But at this point, who cares? It’s not my business. I push that loser out my mind and resolve never to waste another thought on him.

  Inside the make-up room, I set up my kit and prepare a small table of refreshments for the President of Karmax, who I’m told will be ready for the make-up chair at 9 a.m. Sure enough, at 8:59 the door flies open with a bang. But this must be some joke because dressed impeccably in an expensive suit is Ricky! My coffee almost drops in shock and I snort, brown droplets shooting from my mouth and nose.

  Ricky laughs, a deep, charming ripple that I’ve never heard issue from his lips before.

  “What are you doing here?” I hiss at him. “Seriously. What?”

  His face drops into a confused, but polite smile.

  “I believe I have an appointment with you,” he says in a deep male voice. I’m rooted to the spot, staring at Ricky’s impossibly handsome face. But there’s something off. My eyes practically cross, trying to figure it out. He’s the same, but not the same in infinitesimally small ways. Ricky had a small scar over his left eyebrow – does this man have that? His jaw looks more chiseled if possible, those lips more mobile.

  And suddenly, the puzzle works itself out.

  “Dylan Masterson,” the man says, reaching out his hand to me in introduction. “Nice to meet you.”

  I shake his hand, furiously trying to connect the dots in my head. Masterson? Holy shit. Ricky had mentioned once that he had an identical twin brother, but I’d never met him. This must be him! I can't believe my asshole, deadbeat ex-boyfriend has a billionaire twin brother who’s the President of Karmax!

  “I’m so sorry,” I finally manage, blushing. “I thought you were - I thought you were someone else.” I nervously shake his hand and Dylan smiles warmly at me, making my knees go soft. “I’m Fiona,” I quickly add, realizing I haven’t even introduced myself yet. “Please take a seat,” comes my murmur while nervously pulling out the make-up chair for him to sit in.

  But the alpha male shrugs it off with careless masculine grace. He settles down and I drape my make-up cape over his expensive suit. As I reach forward to tie it together behind his neck, the inside of my wrist comes very close to his face. He glances up at me, his eyes the same piercing blue as Ricky’s, but so much kinder. I meet his gaze and can’t look away - an electric current travels between us. I can feel it reaching into my insides, turning them to mush, and down my legs, before settling into a tingle in my pussy. Dylan must feel it too because he suddenly clears his throat and turns his face away from my wrist.

  “Your perfume’s very nice,” he rasps softly. “A lovely floral scent.”

  “I’m not wearing any,” I answer sassily, unable to hide the smile spreading across my face.

  He looks back up at me and matches my grin. “Just naturally sweet, huh?”

  I swallow, smiling at the compliment but also completely tongue-tied. Since when are hot guys actually nice? But I catch myself. This is work.
So I start doing his make-up, whipping out my brushes and paints while fidgeting a bit with the lights and mirror.

  But at the same time, I’m intensely aware of Dylan in a way I’ve never been aware of a client before. The way his skin radiates heat as I lean forward to brush his bronzed skin with setting powder. The way those shoulders are so broad, his massive form hulking in the make-up chair. And I can’t get over Dylan’s physical similarity to Ricky – after all, they’re identical twins, although also different in subtle, idiosyncratic ways. Because Ricky was lazy, rude, and vain. The bad twin was arrogant, and commanded no respect.

  By contrast, I’ve only known Dylan for about two seconds and already I can tell that he’s totally different. His straight posture makes him look taller than Ricky, even though they should be the exact same height. He’s gentle and kind, yet commanding, without having to do or say much.

  Oh god. My attraction to him is making my hands shake. I hope he doesn’t notice! But I can see from the corner of my eye he’s keeping his eyes on my face as I work. The fact that I’m into him must be obvious as day. I bet Dylan can walk into any room and make women swoon, falling over themselves like idiots. But for him to be into me? No, that’d be a pipe dream. Ricky may have been hot, but he was still a loser, whereas Dylan is clearly nothing of the sort. He’s an alpha prime. What would a man like this want with a brunette with a couple extra pounds?