His Baby to Keep: A Forbidden Romance

by Katie Ford

  Except … I wasn’t Trina. It was a classic case of mistaken identity. When I told him that I was actually Becca, Trina’s twin sister, he was arrogant and insufferable.

  “The old twin excuse?” he’d scoffed. “Please, you’re better than that.”

  Except it was true. Trina and I are fraternal twins, orphaned at an early age. But Dominic’s private investigator had informed him that the redheaded Trina would be working the Caldwell event that night, and sure enough, I had red hair and was wearing her nametag.

  Here’s where things get crazy. Dominic immediately hustled me to Koh-i-Noor, a lush tropical paradise. I’m not sure if the word kidnap is appropriate, because most kidnappings don’t take place on a private jet with a luxury island, but it is what it is. He figured that by separating Caleb and Trina, his brother would see the truth and drop Trina like a red-hot coal. And so I’d been forced to come with Dominic to Koh-i-Noor, a private island paradise where he wrote undisturbed in calm, serene peace.

  Except I was now pregnant. That wonderful, sensuous night I’d shared with the arrogant man had worked its magic, and despite myself, I wanted this baby. With a rush of maternal pleasure, I could feel the new life fluttering in my belly, and I swore again to make sure my baby had every chance in the world – which started with an escape from Koh-i-Noor.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Dominic

  The bitch was a piece of work. She’d taken the Sea-Doo in some ill-fated attempt to reach the Big Island, but had no idea that the puny gas tank would never be enough for a two hundred mile journey. I cursed her again. Furiously, I fired up the motorboat that I kept for emergencies, flooring the gas pedal as I swept out to sea.

  Fuck! This girl had been more trouble than she was worth. Even I admit that my plan had gotten out of hand. Initially, I just wanted to prove to my baby brother Caleb that his intended fiancée was a scheming, lying bitch after his money. So I lay a trap for Trina, accosting her at a benefit event, sure that she’d drop Caleb if a richer man appeared on the horizon.

  And I was right. The beautiful redhead slipped into my arms, spending an electric night in my bed, her curvy figure warm and luscious, gorgeous and uninhibited. But the next morning, the redhead had insisted that there’d been some kind of huge mix-up – that she was actually Becca, Trina’s twin sister.

  I have to say, her ballsy approach impressed me. I mean, the whole “I have a twin” excuse is so hackneyed to be almost ridiculous, right? But the redhead kept insisting, saying that this was an unfortunate case of mistaken identity.

  Turning a deaf ear, I brushed off her protestations and kidnapped her to my private island. The girl had been so warm, so loving, that I didn’t want her anywhere near my brother. I mean, she could talk the skin off a snake, and sweet-talking Caleb would be a piece of cake for the viper.

  But something shifted along the way. First off, Trina wasn’t spoiled at all. My experience with gold diggers is that they’re invariably lazy, never lifting a finger if they don’t have to. But Trina got along well with my staff, and I often found her helping around the house, cutting vegetables, tending the garden, etc.

  Second, this girl is smart. Not just street smarts, but book smarts. She’s been helping me edit my latest novel, and I have to say, she has a talent for plot lines, character development, not to mention tactfully correcting my errors. It’s been a surprise, as most gold diggers are focused on clothes, jewelry, and the like.

  So I’m not sure what to think anymore. But right now, it doesn’t matter. The redhead is out at sea somewhere, in serious danger, and although my brain says don’t panic, my heart is telling me a different story.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Becca

  The water was surprisingly cold. I’d been swimming for ages, paddling along, watching the coral reefs drift underneath me. At first, I figured that it’d be an easy swim because there was plenty of daylight and the Caribbean waters are warm. But as I swam and swam and swam, the current started to chill, and the water changed as well. Although I’d started in pure azure seas, now the ocean was dark grey, cloudy and murky.

  I straightened for a moment, treading water. Shit. There was no land in sight. In fact there was nothing around me, just miles of empty sea in every direction. Suddenly, I felt lost and very lonely, a stark sense of isolation overwhelming my senses.

  But unbidden, my hand went to my belly and I rubbed the firmness there, as if assuring the unborn baby that everything would be okay. And it would be, because I needed to survive for myself and the sake of my child. Determinedly, I put my head down and started swimming again, in what I hoped was north.

  But my limbs started feeling unbearably heavy, and while it wasn’t hard to float, it got to a point where I could hardly raise my arms out of the water. I started to kick only, praying that the combination of the flippers and waves would allow me to keep going. But currents of exhaustion were beginning to overwhelm, the rhythm of the ocean a soothing monotony, a white noise lulling me towards unconsciousness.

  Suddenly, strong arms grabbed me and I heard a voice calling “Becca! Becca! Wake up! Wake up little one! Don’t fall asleep on me.”

  Big hands dragged me onto a boat, and I lay motionless on the floorboards, too cold to even shiver. I knew I must have looked bad because a big hand slapped me across the cheek, which stirred me to consciousness briefly. My eyes snapped open and I saw a big man shaking me, worry and concern deeply etched into his face.

  “Don’t fall asleep!” he commanded, shaking me again. He bundled me into a blanket, but I could barely keep my eyes open, and my headed nodded against my shoulders like a rag doll.

  He slapped me again, and shook me roughly, this time almost lifting me from the floorboards.

  “Don’t fall asleep!” he urged. “The hypothermia will kill you! Stay with me, stay with me baby, don’t go!”

  But I was overcome with exhaustion, and pitched headfirst into a black, dreamless hole.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Dominic

  My heart started racing when I saw the lifeless body face down in the water. Through some divine intervention, after scouring the seas surrounding the island for hours, I’d come upon Becca’s still, motionless form.

  My breathing accelerated and my head swirled. Becca had been an unwanted guest, sure, but like or not, I’d become fond of her, and frankly, didn’t even want to admit to myself exactly what she’d become to me. I gunned the motorboat to her side and roughly pulled her from the waters, her body a dead weight, that red hair a snarled, dripping mess against her pale form.

  Furiously doing CPR was no use. She was too cold, too far gone to respond to my urgent ministrations, and slowly slipped into the depths of hypothermia. Fuck the Caribbean! The sea was warm 99% of the time, except for a rogue current which could catch swimmers unaware. Unfortunately, Becca had swum right into the riptide and her skin was practically blue.

  My heart sank as I held her tight to me, willing my warmth into her lifeless frame. Shit shit shit, I panicked, begging God for a second chance with this woman, anything not to take her away. Slowly, she began reviving, the blood returning to her face, her extremities now damp and chill instead of ice cold. She shivered against me and I took hope. Shivering was a good sign, an indication that she’d recover and I clutched her desperately, unwilling to let go even as I turned the boat around and headed back to Koh-i-Noor. My mind whirled, but I was unable to think straight. I had to get her back to warmth and safety before I contemplated my next steps.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Becca

  Slowly, I came to. I was bundled in a big cotton duvet, wrapped like a hot dog in front of a fire. What was going on? I could feel the balmy Caribbean breeze against my skin, the climate humid and warm, but it was still cold, as if a deep freeze had entered the core of my being, my hands and feet only just beginning to thaw.

  Suddenly, it all came rushing back. I’d tried to escape from the island, but the attempt had been ill-fated. Do
minic must have rescued me, and when the door banged open, revealing his huge frame, I opened my mouth to thank him.

  But he was having none of it. Before I could say a word, the big man strode over and ripped off the blanket. I was nude underneath and scrambled futilely to cover my breasts, a hot flush coming over my face despite the fact that my limbs were still chilly.

  “Bitch!” he exclaimed, looking at me with murderous rage in his eyes. “Bitch!” he raged again.

  “I can explain,” I said, trying to cover myself.

  But he was having none of it. Instead, he began undoing his belt, tearing open his shirt to reveal a brawny, muscled chest.

  “Bitch, you have no idea what you put me through,” he roared, ripping his shirt in his haste to get it off. He was all bronze skin, defined abs and rippling, muscular biceps. His pants were off in a flash and I was faced with the sight of angry, aroused male.

  “Dominic,” I said soothingly. “Let me explain.”

  But it didn’t matter. He was on me in a flash, his big bulk covering my body like a living blanket, pressing me deeply into the mattress. Despite my brush with death, I felt curiously alive as he bit my breast, his teeth leaving red, angry welts against my skin.

  “Bitch!” he managed again, before shoving two fingers into my cunt.

  I cried out in agony. Although my body was recovering, I certainly wasn’t over the hypothermia, and the digits in my pussy were unrelenting and rough. He ignored my pleas for mercy and began thrusting them in and out, riding me hard with his hand.

  And against my will, my body started warming, molding itself to his movements, curving to that hard, unyielding bulk. I felt myself melting against his mass, my softness cushioning his angles, and I mewled slightly, moaning into his mouth.

  He ravaged my lips, his tongue thrusting deeply into me, too rough to be called a kiss, but something deep, sensuous and animalistic instead. He was all over me in every way, his fingers in my pussy, his cock rubbing my thighs, his mouth on my face and neck, angrily biting even as he covered me with his lips.

  And I responded. The near-death experience had touched a deep need to feel alive, and with this man would come a type of fulfillment, an encounter with the stars that was a once in a lifetime experience. Hungrily, I embraced him, just as determined to create heat and space and energy through the physical, the act as sacred and original as the first time between Adam and Eve.

  Moving over me, he positioned his cock between my spread legs, and I cried out with pure, unadulterated pleasure as he thrust into me. Evidently it was just as mind-blowing for him because he let out a roar of “Becca!” into my mouth before beginning a deep, powerful thrust into my body.

  It tore me apart, those waves of pleasure, like riding the rockiest seas yet knowing I was safe and cared for. His body was like a wave above me, undulating, pure masculine beauty in the stretch of his muscles, the rhythm of the earth. As we crested together, a heat built in my lower body, slowly rising, Dominic stoking it expertly even as he lost control of his own.

  “Becca!” he roared again, coming deeply in me, his life force exploding into my womb. It felt so good that I began to cry even as my body seized around him, holding him tight, safely ensconced in my warmth. He shuddered again and again, burying his face in the crook between my face and neck as he found his release, warm spurts coating my inner self, bringing me alive and resonating with the most sensuous pleasure.

  And I felt completely at ease despite the tears on my cheeks, despite the rough way in which this lovemaking had begun. Dominic and I had done what was natural to survivors, engaging in the act of love to remind ourselves that we were human and filled with vibrant, essential life.

  I stroked his back as his breathing calmed, his chest pressing insistently against my breasts. But I smiled sadly to myself. Although Dominic didn’t know it, we’d already created a small life, and our passion only served to remind me that he could never know.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Dominic

  I could hardly believe what I’d done. Furious that she’d put herself in such jeopardy, I’d stormed into Becca’s room and raped her. And she’d cried out in pleasure and lust, her body responding to the call of mine naturally, so sweetly responsive, despite my intent to punish and discipline.

  But I knew I’d needed to do it for myself just as much as anything. I was overwhelmed with emotion, and I told myself it was because of my experience singlehandedly beating back the long hand of death, saving Becca from a watery grave. Yeah, I told myself grimly. I was just doing my civic duty because an accidental drowning on my property would be hard to explain to the authorities. Ha.

  Somehow, these wretched emotions had clouded my judgment, and I resolved to harden myself against the bitch, making sure she would never underestimate a Phillips brother again. I pulled myself out of her roughly, rolling off coldly, abruptly, despite all that had happened.

  “Make yourself presentable,” I growled, blindly throwing some clothes at her. I quickly averted my eyes, but not before I got a glimpse of that beautiful body, her breasts lush and full, her cunny wet and engorged despite my harsh loving. Shamefully, I could feel myself hardening again and was tempted to get back in bed, losing myself in the warmth of this woman. But reality came crashing down, and I knew that it was more important than ever to keep her prisoner. A girl who could cause me to rape would be able to get anything she wanted from Caleb.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Becca

  I really am a prisoner now. Before, I’d had a semblance of independence, essentially unsupervised because Dominic had been so sure that there was no way off the island. But after my ill-fated escape, I’m basically either with him or locked in my room one hundred percent of the time.

  The first night had been a shock. Dominic had forced me initially, but the sex had become magical, a reassurance that we were human beings, vibrant and alive. After dismissing me, I’d lain motionless on the bed, limp and unmoving, shocked by his abrupt departure. But what did I expect? It wasn’t like he loved me and was going to wipe my tears, stroke my back, and murmur words of comfort. I picked myself up, washing my face and tried to ignore the sight of my puffy, tear-filled eyes. Eventually, an overwhelming hunger gnawed in my stomach and I found myself creeping quietly downstairs for dinner.

  Nana looked at me with a pitying expression as she brought out the food, but wouldn’t say anything.

  “Mister Dominic, he da boss,” she said apologetically, in her lilting Caribbean accent.

  “I understand, Nana,” I said softly. “Don’t worry, I love you just the same.”

  Her eyes filled with tears as she backed towards the kitchen, but I understood. Dominic had instructed her not to talk to me anymore, though I’d sorely miss our times companionably cutting vegetables, as well as her tales of growing up as a child in the Caribbean.

  But there were worse things in life. I heard the shower in Dominic’s room turn on and off, and figured he’d come down to dinner sooner or later. I waited at the table, not sure what to say, but the shadows grew long and Dominic never showed. When it was finally pitch black outside, I realized that Nana had probably brought his food to his room, and he had no intention of seeing me.

  Maybe it was better, I sighed. There were just too many emotions between us, too much going on, too many dramatic moments. I schlumped up the stairs and got ready for bed, my mental and physical exhaustion overwhelming, my body limp as my head hit the pillow.

  Imagine my surprise when my door burst open again, a hulking form silhouetted which could only belong to one man. Before I could say anything, he strode in and got into bed with me, pulling the coverlet over us securely.

  “What … what are you doing?” I stammered. I thought I was the enemy, the prisoner, the person he hated most in the world.

  “I can’t let you escape again, and Nana and Oscar are too old to keep a look-out,” he said grimly. “The best way to ensure that you don’t sneak away during the night is to
sleep in the same bed.”

  Reinforcing his intent to keep me prisoner was the muscular arm tucked securely around my waist as he pulled me to his bulk, wrapping that big frame around me. There was no way I was going anywhere now. His legs were tangled with mine and I could feel his hot breath against my neck as he turned us into a veritable human pretzel. I cleared my voice to protest, but he cut me off.

  “Sleep Becca,” he ordered. “Close your eyes.”

  And I was so tired that I did, too exhausted to protest. Tomorrow would be another day, and I could argue our sleeping arrangements then. But for right now, it felt so right, so heavenly, to be wrapped safely in Dominic’s arms.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Dominic

  I felt her drop off almost immediately, her lush, curvy form growing limp into the unconsciousness of exhaustion and much-needed sleep. I pulled her close again, not an inch separating us under the covers. Burying my nose in her hair, I inhaled the sweet fragrance that was all Becca, and found myself growing tired as well. Tomorrow was another day, and I’d figure out what to do with my prisoner then.