Tempt the Boss_A Forbidden Bad Boy Romance

by Katie Ford

  And Becca seemed to get along with them well, which surprised the hell out of me. Most gold-diggers are snobs who treat the help like garbage. In this case though, I’d stumbled on Becca in the kitchen more than once, helping Nana chop vegetables, wash dishes, etc. So the girl was not your classic whore, but I brushed it out of my mind. She’d cheated on Caleb and that was that.

  I stretched my legs. It was 8 am and Becca would be coming downstairs soon. Although she didn’t know it, I looked forward to breakfast with her every morning. She was usually silent, but I liked seeing her as soon as she woke up, drinking our coffee together as we ate companionably on the verandah. She was gorgeous in the early morning, her auburn hair more gold than red, streaked by the blinding sun of the island.

  But at 8:15, she still hadn’t made an appearance. That was odd. There was no night life on the island, so we generally went to sleep early each night, getting up with the dawn. Strange that she wasn’t awake yet.

  At 8:30, I decided to get her. I climbed the stairs and knocked on her door.

  “Breakfast’s ready!” I called. Silence ensued. A bad feeling came over me, and I tried the doorknob. Sure enough, the room was empty, the bed made, everything arranged neatly. There was no trace of Becca and I knew immediately that she was embarking on some foolhardy escape attempt.

  I clattered down the stairs to the beach, to the shed where my Sea-Doo personal watercraft was stored. The Sea-Doo was gone, the bitch must have taken it. Stupid girl! There was nowhere to go. The closest island was 200 miles out, and the Sea-Doo would never make it with its puny tank of gas. Shit, she’d taken some of the snorkel equipment too, but left the life vest. With a sudden urgency, I knew that Becca was in serious danger.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Becca

  The Sea-Doo started to sputter and I cursed the damn machine.

  “Come on, come on!” I urged, as if the Sea-Doo could understand. But of course, we started slowing, and finally stopped, the Sea-Doo drifting aimlessly in the waves. I tried paddling with my hands while sitting on the water craft, but it was no use. We were stranded in the middle of the Caribbean.

  But I wasn’t giving up yet. Nana had mentioned that there was another island just north of Koh-i-Noor, from which they bought supplies. There was a man with a motorized boat who made the deliveries, transporting precious groceries and fuel as necessary.

  I was determined to find the island. I have a pretty good sense of direction, and it’d been easy to sneak off at the break of dawn, dragging the Sea-Doo to shore and setting off northwards. It’d been easy at first, until the gas ran out.

  Shit! Shit shit shit! I started pulling on flippers and snorkel gear, determined to swim to the Big Island if necessary. But I knew I was putting myself, and my baby, in some serious danger.

  Because you see, I’ve been feeling nauseated the last few weeks. I’ve been throwing up discreetly, unable to keep any food down. At first, I assured myself it was just the hot weather, combined with eating foods I wasn’t used to. But after I missed my period, and then missed it again, I knew the game was up. After one heavenly night with Dominic, I was pregnant with his child.

  The irony struck me. My kidnapper had managed to impregnate me, and use me as his personal secretary to boot. I wasn’t going to tell that bastard about the baby, no way. But it was important to get off the island asap, so that I could get much-needed medical care and do my best by the little one.

  Because I wanted this child, wanted him with a longing I’d never felt before, a sudden maternal urge sweeping over me like a life force. I knew with a certainty that I’d do anything to keep my baby safe, including protecting him from his father if it came to that.

  Read A Baby for the Billionaire 2 next

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Becca

  I slipped on the fins and the snorkel equipment. Unfortunately, I hadn’t been able to fit a life jacket onto the Sea-Doo, and would be swimming without. But I felt confident. I was a competent swimmer, and the sea was azure and calm, gentle waves lapping gently against the personal watercraft.

  I was midway through my escape from domineering billionaire Dominic Phillips, aka Dominic Patterson, international best-selling author. I’d met him at a charity event, when I filled in for my sister Trina as part of the serving staff. Working the gala had turned into one of the best nights of my life, but with unexpected consequences.

  I’d been swept off my feet by the man. He was dark, devastating, and with one look of his blue eyes, could make my entire body tingle with arousal and excitement. After slicing my hand on some broken glass, he’d whisked me off to his manor so that I could be seen by his personal doctor. I’d succumbed to his charms and had the most sensual, erotic night of my life, coming over and over again in his arms.

  But the next morning had been a nightmare. And it wasn’t because I’d been expecting to get the girlfriend treatment! Quite the opposite. I’d been sneaking around, trying to find my belongings in his dark bedroom, with every intention of making a quick, painless exit. But he’d woken and started throwing vile accusations my way, the most horrific of which was seducing his younger brother for money.

  You see, my baby sister Trina is a piece of work. Beautiful and spoiled, she met Caleb Philipps while catering a charity gala, and expected him to propose any day now. But big brother Dominic was sure that Trina could be nothing but a gold-digger, intent on getting her paws on their family money.

  So he set a trap for her. He figured that Trina would conveniently “forget” Caleb for any rich man who waggled a finger at her, and offer her body for a higher dollar. And I’d fallen right into it … I’d slept with Dominic that night. He was dynamic, charismatic, and one of the most interesting conversationalists I’d ever met. Our night together still haunted me, the feel of his fingers caressing my curves, tenderly tracing my body, his bulk pressed against me, inside me, in the most intimate of ways.

  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 b
eautiful 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. Dominic 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.