His Forbidden Submissive Read Free Page A

competition? Brock wouldn’t put the below-the-belt act past the bastard. But not Viv. She might be a lot of things—larger than life, able to sway men’s minds with a single smile—but she wasn’t underhanded.
    He cut the Harley’s engine, dismounted and walked to her without hesitation. Well, maybe with a tad bit of hesitation. After all, when he reached her, he might not be able to control the urges scratching at his chest for freedom.
    With each step closer to her, the soft scent of something spicy and floral bounced around the spring breeze, teased the pistons of his already misfiring psyche. He breathed in the heady aroma and held it in his lungs.
    A nervous smile split her lips. “Hello, Brock.”
    “Hello, Vivi—” The rest of her name caught in the mass of emotions clogging the back of his throat. Had her voice always sounded as if her vocal cords were wrapped in velvet? “Hello, Vivian. It’s been awhile.”
    “Yes, it most certainly has been.” A tiny diamond nose ring sparkled in the sun. That was new. He liked it, the delicate stud complemented her new hairstyle.
    “At your remission party,” he said. “I remember.” And all too well.
    A grin played with the corners of her lips. “The beach was so hot that night.”
    And so were you.
    Even bald, cheeks sunken in from chemotherapy, lingering abdominal scars from surgery, Vivian in a bikini was enough to drive a eunuch into a lust-filled rage. She’d certainly driven himto the outer edge of Lustville. But as much as he’d wanted to throw her on one of the nearby beach tables and pound into her until she screamed his name, Eugene was his brother.
    He forced his mind to more mundane topics. “I, um, like your hair. It’s edgy.”
    “Thanks.” She feathered fingers through the spiky locks. “As it started growing back in, I discovered I liked it short. I thought it made me look—”
    “Sassy.”
    Her smile shined a few shades brighter. “I was going to say younger but I like sassy better.”
    And just like that, he was lost. In her smile, in her incredible eyes.
    In her.
    God he wanted her more than he wanted his next breath, wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her for a year, to carry her to his bed, to chain her to the metal bed frame and make love to her until the pain of the last year evaporated in the heat of their fucking.
    “May I come inside?” she finally asked, breaking his trance.
    “Oh hell. Yeah. Sorry.” He stepped aside and motioned her through the garage. “ Mi casa es su casa and all that . ”
    “Thanks.” She flashed one last sexy smile then sauntered toward the door.
    Her pointy heels clicked against the painted concrete, her round ass swaying with each step, and he was helpless to stop his gaze from drinking in each amazing move. Each step mesmerized him. She had the kind of hips that made him conjure images of him bending her over any available surface and taking her from behind, cramming his cock into her until reality and fantasy merged.
    Vivian stopped at the hood of his Ferrari and ran her palm over the black paint. “Since when do you drive things on four wheels?” she asked over her shoulder.
    “Oh that…” He shrugged. She must have sensed she’d get no further info out of him and kept going. When she reached the foyer, she spun in a slow circle. Once, twice before stopping to face him.
    “I like what you’ve done with the place, Brock. It’s a perfect blend of masculine strength and natural beauty.” She leveled her gaze on his. “Who was your decorator?”
    Amusement tugged at the corners of his lips. “What makes you think I hired one?”
    She rolled her eyes. “Don’t insult my decorating intelligence.”
    He held his hands up in mock surrender. “What gave me away?”
    “Plenty.” She moved to the living room. “Take this space for example. You’ve got beautiful earth tones working in here. The soft colors are accompanied by sleek, neutral woodwork. Now, knowing your panache