The Curvy Waitress and the Billionaire French Count (He Wanted Me Pregnant!) by Victoria Wessex Read Free Book Online Page B

between the traffic. The rain was washing away my tears, but as fast as the heat left my eyes it was replaced with more.
    I cursed myself. I cursed myself for hitting Henri with the tray, I cursed myself for going with Erard to the meeting, I cursed myself for spreading my legs for him like a cheap whore. I cursed myself for letting those French words penetrate my defenses when no English ones could have done. But most of all, I cursed myself for daring, even for a second, to believe a man could want a woman like me.
    I ran through the park—I don’t know what I was looking for, maybe a quiet place, maybe a dry place. I just wanted to be away from everyone. I wanted to lie down somewhere dark and shelter for a thousand years while the shame died away. I’d let him come inside me! I’d done something I’d never done with any man before, and there was a very real possibility that now I was—was— I swallowed. I couldn’t even say the word in my head.
    I staggered along a jogging path, almost out of breath, and finally slowed to a stop. The rain had cleared everyone else from the park, so at least there was no one to see my humiliation.
    I sat down on the path, my head in my hands, and gave myself up to huge, wracking sobs. Everything was ruined. Even my sucky job would now be worse, because I’d had a glimpse—just a glimpse—of a different life. Now I had to go back to being alone.
    The sound of the rain changed. It wasn’t hitting the path in front of me, anymore. It was bouncing off something else.
    I slowly opened my eyes.
    Erard was standing in front of me, naked except for a hotel towel around his waist.
    “I’d offer you a towel,” he said in English. “But it’s quite wet.”
    I looked down at his bare feet. He crouched down in front of me to get in my eye line.
    “The thing I want least in the world,” he said, “is to make you cry.”
    “Why did you lie to me, then?” I said, forcing it out through my tears.
    He took a deep breath. “I am a count. Henri is my translator. I do need him in meetings—it gives me thinking time. I didn’t tell you I spoke English because—“ He flushed. “Because I wanted an excuse to be with you.”
    I finally lifted my head a little. “That doesn’t change what you did. You should have pulled out.”
    He took my face between his hands. “And if I’d thought you really wanted me to, I would have, but….” He searched my face.
    I tried to twist away, embarrassed, but he held me there. “You didn’t want me to pull out, did you?” he asked.
    I couldn’t lie to him. I shook my head.
    “Holly,” he said carefully, “I didn’t pull out because— Jesus , this is difficult in English. Can I just speak French?”
    I nodded.
    “Because I love your curves just the way they are,” he told me in French. “They’re fantastic. Alluring. Sexual. And the only way I’d ever want to change them—the thing that drives me crazy—is for them to change because you’re carrying my child.”
    My jaw dropped and I backed away from him. “ You wanted to get me pregnant?!”
    He nodded slowly.
    “You don’t even know me!”
    “I know enough. I know that you’re smart and kind and I know that you like me for who I am, not what I’m worth. You’re a good person, Holly. I don’t think you know how rare that is. And everything— everything— I said about your body is true.”
    I shakily stood up. The rain had plastered my clothes to my skin. Without bra or panties, every curve of me was on display. “R—Really?” I asked doubtfully.
    “ Yes!” he told me.
    A tiny flicker of hope inside me. I allowed it to grow.
    “Life is too short not to be impulsive,” said Erard. “I want you. I want a child with you. And if you still want to be with me, I’ll show you how much I love your body. And I’ll never lie to you again.”
    I took a hesitant step forward and then another. And then he was pulling me into his arms, my soaked body against his, and kissing me