His Forbidden Submissive Read Free Page B

for design and architecture, I can buy you’d picked all that out, but the throw pillows on your couch are green with pink accents.” She winked at him. “And pink’s not exactly a color men pick out on their own—at least straight men.”
    Busted. He fought to keep his lips from turning up in a smile but failed miserably. “I hired Jenny Bishop over at Home & Hearth Interiors.”
    As quick and deadly as a streak of lightning cutting across a dark, stormy sky, anger illuminated Vivian’s eyes. The violet hue turned almost black.
    He put a few steps of distance between them so he could better examine her reaction.
    Just what’s this all about, sweetheart?
    Did a massive business rivalry exist between the two women? He doubted it. Jenny was good, but she wasn’t Vivian Michaels good. Never would be. They weren’t even in the same league. He wouldn’t have chosen her over Viv had he not been trying to avoid the latter.
    But why did Viv so obviously despise the woman?
    Judging by the hatred carving harsh lines on Vivian’s face, it was personal. Really personal, something greater than stealing a client or two. But what?
    He tried to lighten the mood. “Jenny’s work isn’t as good as yours, not by a long shot.”
    Regret overtook the anger swarming in her eyes. “Then why didn’t you come to me?”
    Well shit. Walked right into that one, dumbass.
    He shrugged, praying his emotions didn’t show through too much. “To be honest, I figured you wouldn’t talk to me after your remission party, let alone step foot inside my house.”
    “And why would I do that?”
    “I kissed you.” And god help him, he’d wanted to do so much more, which was why he’d run. Loving a married woman was bad enough, but when said woman was married to his brother…
    She took a step toward him. “And if I remember correctly, I kissed you right back. Then we stopped.”
    “Regardless, I thought it’d be better to distance myself.”
    “But for an entire year?” She moved even closer, and when she spoke again, her voice was barely above a whisper. “I’ve missed you so much.”
    I’ve missed you too. But the words got stuck in his throat.
    A wistfulness seized her features. “I haven’t had anyone to watch reruns of Stargate with since you left.”
    He laughed through his guilt. He’d introduced her to that showwhile she’d been undergoing chemo. They’d watched all ten seasons and three movies over the course of her treatment. They’d even started watching Stargate Atlantis but hadn’t made it past season two before she’d gone into remission.
    Joy and pain lodged in his chest like the blunt blade of a butter knife. The memory of that time, of Vivian’s uterus riddled with cancer brought back dark memories.
    Oh god no. The cancer! Was that why she was here?
    He grabbed her by the arms. “Is it the cancer? Is it back? Has it spread?” He’d shake the damn truth out of her if he had to.
    “No, Brock,” she whispered, her voice so soft, her smile reassuring. “I’m not here because the cancer’s back.”
    “No cancer?” He just had to make sure.
    “None whatsoever.”
    “Oh thank god.” Relief practically leveled him and he crushed her against him, clung to her, partly to feel close to her, but mostly to keep from falling flat on his ass. Holding her felt as damn natural as breathing. Her petite body fit perfectly against his. He never wanted to let her go.
    As if he needed another sign he was screwed.
    He tightened his arms around her, bent close and buried his nose in the crevice of her neck. Her spicy, floral scent combined with the sensation of having her in his arms again. The dual stimuli rocked his resolve, threatened to overwhelm his better judgment.
    “Brock,” she whispered. “Brock.” Deep. Husky. Wanton. Seductive. Each word described the timbre of her voice. Each word doused gasoline on the fire raging below his belt.
    Christ.
    He pulled back, pushed her to arm’s length. Time to move their