A Baby for the Bad Boy (A Bad Boy Romance: Dominick and Linden, book THREE) Read Online Free Page A

things you do, but you do them anyways. I can’t imagine living like that.”
    “It helps me get by, day to day.”
    She shook her head and looked me up and down. “It’s insane. All I ever wanted was to have a quiet life with my family. Become a nurse, maybe settle down. If it weren’t for money, I never would have come with you, but I’m desperate. It’s crazy to me that you seek that kind of thing out, that you want to do it.”
    “Come on now, darlin,” I said, smiling lazily at her, “you must admit it to yourself that you got a thrill from helping me that day. That even though your little college pal was hit, being part of a drive by got you all revved up like nobody’s business.”
    She frowned, bit her lower lip and actually stomped her foot. “That’s not fair, that was adrenaline.”
    “Exactly,” I chuckled, “that adrenaline is what gets me going and keeps me going back. I told you, once you start doing things like this, it gets addictive.”
    “I’m not exactly addicted, I just need the money and I happen to find you very–”
    “Very what?” I asked with my brow raised.
    She blushed and looked away. “Do you have a washroom…or two or three?”
    “I have eight actually, but you can use the one down the hall there, on the right.”
    I watched her ass as she sauntered down to the bathroom. My cock twitched and hardened at the sight of it, a perfect inverted heart, her short skirt swinging as she walked.
    I imagined what it would be like, to drag that skirt up over her hips and fuck her senseless.
    I shuddered and went to the kitchen, ran my hand under ice cold water to calm myself down, to focus my energy on protecting Linden and not dragging her into my messed up life.
    “Making me dinner?” she asked as she strolled into the room.
    “Maybe, what do you like?” I asked her, turning the water off and drying my hand. She looked at me quizzically as I did so, I didn’t offer an explanation, what could I say?
    “Anything edible,” she replied with a grin. “I called my mom, by the way. I’m good for the night but I have to get back in the morning. It’s my turn to…”
    She trailed off. “To what?” I asked.
    She seemed reluctant to finish her sentence so I prodded. “What are you doing tomorrow, Linden?”
    “It’s my father, I need to look after him in the morning. Every Wednesday I relieve the nurse attendant while my mother goes into work.”
    “Your father is ill?” I asked. My mind was racing now, wondering if this was the source of her desperation for money.
    “He is,” she said, “Listen, I don’t like to talk about this. Could we just dive into making something to eat? Maybe we can discuss it over dinner.”
    “Fair enough,” I replied and walked to my fridge, opened it and started listing ingredients in a high pitched British accent.
    I realized at that point that it wasn’t worth it to press her for information. Linden was the type of woman who would clam up if she felt backed into a corner.
    I didn’t want that. Either way this played out, whether I fucked her senseless or cut her off for her own safety, I wanted her feeling confident and relaxed around me. I had a feeling that Linden had spent a lot of her life on the outside feeling unimportant. I wanted her to feel important.
    “I didn’t realize I was cooking with Chef Ramsay,” she giggled when I handed her a few items, fresh vegetables and a brick of hard Parmesan cheese.
    “Not Chef, but I do like to make my own food from time to time,” I smiled and started making her a simple pasta dish with seafood and a decent white wine.
    She chatted throughout the entire time, walked around the apartment and looked at my choice of furnishings and artwork, exclaimed and then was quiet, like she was in a museum.
    I felt oddly self-conscious, as though I didn’t want her to evaluate me and find me lacking.
    It was a strange feeling, being vulnerable emotionally around a woman, and I wasn’t entirely sure