Bad Boy Biker's Baby

Bad Boy Biker's Baby A Brother’s Best Friend Enemies to Lovers Romance GiGi Reine Sunflower River Publishing Copyright Bad Boy Biker's Baby: A Brother’s Best Friend Enemies to Lovers Romance Copyright Copyright © 2023 by GiGi Reine In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. Contents Prologue 1. Chapter One Cole 2. Chapter Two Adeline 3. Chapter Three Adeline 4. Chapter Four Cole 5. Chapter Five Adeline 6. Chapter Six Adeline 7. Chapter Seven Cole 8. Chapter Eight Adeline 9. Chapter Nine Adeline 10. Chapter Ten Cole 11. Chapter Eleven Adeline 12. Chapter Twelve Cole 13. Chapter Thirteen Cole 14. Chapter Fourteen Adeline 15. Chapter Fifteen Adeline 16. Chapter Sixteen Cole 17. Chapter Seventeen Adeline 18. Chapter Eighteen Cole 19. Chapter Nineteen Adeline 20. Chapter Twenty Adeline 21. Chapter Twenty One Cole 22. Chapter Twenty Two Cole 23. Chapter Twenty Three Adeline 24. Chapter Twenty Four Adeline 25. Chapter Twenty Five Cole 26. Chapter Twenty Six Cole Epilogue Bad Boy Biker's Baby Prologue Bad Boy Biker's Baby: A Brother’s Best Friend Enemies to Lovers Romance I never knew how little of my life I was truly living until I met him. So much has happened since then, and at times it has felt like a constant rollercoaster. Even now, I wonder where the ride will end. It’s been so difficult to predict anything since he entered my world and turned it upside down. He’s shown me both sides of life, the intensity and passion that can be drawn from it, and the heartache and pain that it can bring too. It’s been such a crazy, wild journey, and I still sometimes find myself wondering if it was all just one big mistake. My life seemed so normal and peaceful before him. Maybe it was boring; maybe I wasn’t ever truly living, but I had stability and certainty. Life with him always seems to be anything but certain. The cool air flutters over me as I stand on the balcony and gaze out at the city. It’s hard to stay focused when my mind keeps getting dragged back to all the trauma that precipitated our being together. It has been a constant circus that sometimes left me feeling afraid of things devolving back into chaos. I sometimes feel like there is no way of ever knowing where my life is headed now. Life with him has been like following an uncharted route, and I can’t help but wonder if I am destined to always feel this way—like I’ll never be able to settle down or enjoy a peaceful life again. Did I make the right choice, or was I simply doomed the moment he walked into my life? Chapter One Cole The rhythmic buzz of the tattoo gun is the only sound that punctuates the air for a few minutes. That’s how I would prefer it to be most of the time. I use a rotary machine, so the sound isn’t loud or abrasive. It’s a gentle sound, far from the discordant zizzing of the old coil machines I learned the trade on. The light hum is music to the ears of a seasoned tattoo artist—which I am. The blue latex gloves I use feel sticky on the inside as usual, but I’m grateful for them today. I often am when the client is an attractive woman. With each wipe of the ink after finishing a line, the gloves and the little piece of paper towel I use insulate my bare hands from touching her supple skin directly. It was a lower back piece. As low as Jennifer Greene could go. If her blue denim short shorts were pulled any lower, I’d be staring at half of her ass the entire time. I’m a professional, so I’m adept at ignoring these kinds of distractions and focusing completely on my line work. I’m still a man though; one who would be lying if I said jobs like this didn’t occasionally turn me on a little. Jennifer wasn’t helping. The initial silence we started with was tainted now. I catch a glimpse of the wallpaper on her phone, so I know she has two kids at home. This doesn’t stop her. Every time the oscillating needle touches her skin, she lets out a little moan. I’ve tattooed hundreds of clients in my day. I know every type: the flinchers, the babies, the criers, the sweaters, and the takers. Takers were the best clients. They sit quietly, never move, and never indicate that they’re in any pain. Jennifer was trying to portray herself as a taker. She wasn’t. She was a faker. She didn’t move, flinch, or cry, but she also wasn’t sitting quietly anymore either. She was handling the pain, I’ll give her that. Her game was a different one; one I know well. She uses it like a sultry fishing line to reel me in. Her moans aren’t actual cries of pain. They’re light and airy, more sensual than anything else. They’re deliberate. She and I both know the same unspoken truth; the combination of staring at her tight, dewy body, coupled with her sumptuous moans, is like a sexual dog whistle to me. I decide to play along with it. “Are you okay? Do you need a break?” I ask her. My voice is deep and gruff. It suits my broad-shouldered frame and large hands. Women have always liked it. They say I sound manly. I look up at the wall mirror across from the tattoo bed as I speak to her. Jennifer lifts her head