Read Sweet for You: A BBW Billionaire Romance for Free Online

her dress on the bedroom floor. While digging through her closet to find a stretchy tank top and baggy sweatpants, an outfit that Lois Carlyle would definitely not approve of, her mind replayed the humiliating exchange with Stephen in the restaurant.
    The handsome man on the cover of Food Fest magazine was nothing like her fantasy. Oh, he was handsome alright. But he wasn’t dashing, debonair, or even remotely charming. No, Stephen Blake was pompous, arrogant, and rude . And with a few offhand remarks, he had cut Abby to the core. Even w omen like her didn’t deserve to be treated with such cold and callous disrespect.
    She had probably overreacted to his comment, but after years of being ridiculed for her weight, something inside her had snapped. She had worked so hard to shed her fat girl persona and embrace her finer qualities and her curves. Clearly, she still had a way to go before she could be a truly confident BBW.
    Curling up on the couch, she turned on the TV and scrolled through the guide, looking for something mindless to watch. Part of her wanted to resign from her new job immediately so she would never have to see Stephen Blake again. But she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he had gotten the best of her. Besides, she needed the money; her rent wouldn’t pay itself. So Abby would do what she always did: paste a smile on her face and pretend that she wasn’t hurt by his insults.
    Settling on a rerun of the Food Network’s Cupcake Wars , Abby eventually drifted off to sleep, only to be awakened sometime later by a pounding on her door. Disoriented by the abrupt intrusion, she rubbed her eyes before peering through the security peephole to find a disheveled Mr. Blake standing outside her door.
    His coat and tie were gone and the top of his starched white shirt was open, revealing a hint of dark, sexy chest hair. Abby’s pulse quickened. With his hair slightly mussed and his attire casual, he looked more handsome than ever.
    “Miss Branson, are you in there?” she heard him say through the door. “I’ve come to apologize. Please let me in.”
    Abby noticed that his words were slurred ever so slightly and his voice did sound apologetic. Was he drunk?
    She unlocked the door and opened it just a crack. Stephen must have been leaning against it because he tumbled inside, grabbing hold of Abby’s thick middle as he steadied himself.
    Even after he regained his footing, his strong arms lingered around her waist and it occurred to Abby that his grip felt pretty solid for someone who was clearly inebriated. She was close enough to inhale his scent, an intoxicating mix of expensive cologne and pricey liquor that made her feel almost as drunk as her boss.
    Without thinking, she flattened her hands on his broad chest, exploring the muscles beneath the smooth white cotton. When she slid her palms across his nipples, they contracted under her touch and her own breasts responded in kind, poking out from the thin material of her tank top.
    The sensation was enough to bring her to her senses and she pushed against him, separating herself from his firm embrace before folding her arms modestly across her chest. Although she was supposed to be angry with him, there was something endearing about the way he showed up on her doorstep, tipsy and apologetic. The gesture was enough to begin melting the wall of ice that had formed during their exchange at the restaurant.
    “I brought you your dinner,” Stephen said contritely, grinning drunkenly while holding up a white to-go box sealed with a Gordon’s Steakhouse sticker.
    The sight of the box was jarring to Abby and put her back on the defensive. “That was thoughtful,” she said, taking the box roughly from his outstretched hand and moving away from him to put it in the fridge. “But it doesn’t make up for your behavior in the restaurant.”
    “I know it doesn’t,” Stephen said, following Abby into the small apartment’s kitchen. “And