by Brandi Evans
“Thank god. I know how particular you are about your coffee.”
A smile tugged at the corners of Viv’s lips. Particular? That was being kind. She was a self-professed coffee snob. Not just any java would do. She took a sip of her latte. The cinnamon gave her taste buds an instant boost—hopefully the caffeine would give the rest of her a boost soon.
“Not that I don’t appreciate the hell out of this, Anne, but you know you didn’t have to do this. It’s way above and beyond.”
Anne waved off the comment. “I wanted to, sweetie. Besides, I’m that ruthless bitch who had your dear hubby served with divorce papers, remember? And as much as I like to tote myself as an all-around attorney, you know I deal primarily in business. Divorce law isn’t exactly in my scope of expertise, but I did this for you because I’d like to think we’ve become friends over the years.”
Tears pressed against the back of Viv’s eyes. She’d always considered Anne more than a business associate but it was nice to know the other woman felt the same way.
“Have you had any contact with Eugene since he was served?” Anne asked, her expression turning serious.
Viv shook her head. Eugene might not be physically violent, but the last thing she needed to deal with was a barrage of passive-aggressive assaults. “And I don’t plan to either.” She winked. “Not without my kickass lawyer present anyway.”
“That’s smart, sweetie.”
“The fifteen million unheard voicemails cluttering up my inbox sort of alluded to the fact he’s incapable of sitting down for a rational conversation.”
“Amen to that.” Anne held her hands up, palms out, as if really trying to emphasize her next words. “Because at the moment, that man is pissed. More so than I’ve ever known him to be. He’s burning up voicemail space on my end too, but after the first half-dozen or so, I unceremoniously told him to fuck off and that I’d only deal with his attorney.”
“Did it work?”
“Not so far, no.” Anne laughed.
So did Viv.
“But enough about that bastard,” Anne said, “tell me what happened with Brock. Why are you here when you could be in his arms?”
Without warning, every moment she’d spent with Brock flashed behind her eyes. Every searing touch, every soul-shattering orgasm. Every blissful second right up until he pulled the proverbial rug out from under her feet.
“You want every gory, erotic detail?” Viv asked.
“Yes, please.” Anne tugged her legs up in her chair like a teenager about to binge on the newest schoolroom gossip.
“Okay. But just remember, you asked for it.”
Not leaving anything out, Viv chronicled the time she’d spent with Brock. Anne listened with the intensity of a lioness on the prowl. Occasionally, she’d nod, but for the most part, she let Viv tell her story uninterrupted. To her credit, she didn’t even balk at the mention of BDSM, but when she finally did speak, she didn’t pull her words.
“Damn, sweetie! Now that’s a weekend.” She laughed, a full-bellied sound that might have been infectious on another occasion.
“Stop it, Anne. I’m really freaking out here. I don’t know what to do about this.”
“Sorry.” Anne scooted her chair closer and put on her lawyer face. “Continue.”
“I knew Brock was hiding something from me. I’m not totally dense. But I never expected his secret to be so—”
“Kinky?”
“So much of a betrayal.”
“So you’re saying the kinky stuff doesn’t really bother you?”
“Of course it bothers me.” Viv shot to her feet and started pacing the small area. “I mean who wouldn’t be bothered by the fact their lover wants to tie them up and whip them?”
“I wouldn’t.”
Viv stared daggers at her friend, pushing quickly past the sarcastic comment. “By not telling me about that side of himself, Brock perpetuated a lie that—”
“Stop right there! Right there. That’s what is really bothering you, isn’t it?” Anne pushed onto her feet, squared her shoulders in that lawyerly way she did. “Brock lied to you. And for the first time, the man you adored and worshiped and the flesh-and-blood man you made love to didn’t mesh. And for a split second, you saw a little of Eugene in Brock.”
Viv shook her head frantically. “No. Absolutely not. Brock’s not…I mean…that’s not…that’s…”
“That’s spot on, sweetie, and you know it.”
“No, it’s not.”
Yes, it is.
“You put your memories of Brock up on a pedestal and then wrapped it up in plastic wrap to keep it clean and pure. You loved an idea and when the real man didn’t measure up to the pristine idea you’d kept tucked away in your head, you freaked out.”
The truth of Anne’s words tumbled through her. During her treatments, Brock had always seemed like this mythical figure. Honorable. Strong. Above reproach, even despite the fact he was a bad-boy biker. He’d been larger than life, her tether in the storm, keeping her grounded to life when she’d just wanted to give up. But her savior hadn’t been perfect. He wasn’t the godlike creature he portrayed.
He was simply a man, and that man had lied to her.
Viv closed her eyes. “I thought I knew him better than I knew myself, but he was keeping this huge side of himself hidden from me. How am I supposed to just accept that?”
“Not accept it, sweetie, embrace it. Run with it. Revel in it. His revelation might not mesh with the Brock in your head, but does that really change the way you feel about him? Honestly…”
“Maybe.” Viv closed her eyes. “Not really.”
“Then go to him. Get to know the flesh-and-blood Brock. If you can’t do that…make a clean break now. Save your sanity.”
Viv shook her head. She couldn’t think of a future where Brock wasn’t there. So where the hell did that leave her exactly?
“I still love him. But how am I supposed to move forward now? The things he’s into are, are…insane.” And that was putting it mildly. “I hardly know anything about his lifestyle. What little I do know I’ve learned via Google, and let me tell you I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to accept—”
“Sweetie, sweetie, sweetie. First off, take a breath. You can’t learn about BDSM online, only research aspects of it. You’ll never get to know the wonders or the freedom of the lifestyle until you, ya know, experience it.”
“You say that like you have personal experiences in the matter.”
“That’s because I do.”
“You—what?” Holy crap. Viv dropped onto the bed. “Is anyone in my life actually being completely honest with me?”
“Brock is now. And so am I.”
Anne spoke so matter-of-factly Viv almost laughed.
“That’s a lie too.” Anne sat beside her on the bed. “Actually, I’m not being completely honest with you. Did you know I stole a car on a dare when I was fourteen? I was arrested for the theft but because my father was friends with the local police chief and the vehicle was returned in perfect condition, no charges were ever pressed. Or that, when I was a freshman in college, my best friend and I snuck into a local BDSM club to get dirt on a professor we both hated, and that was where my fascination with the lifestyle began. Or that I later married that professor, even though he was way too old for me.” She smiled. “Would you like me to continue?”
Viv shook her head. “Okay, I get it. Honesty is complicated. People don’t tell each other everything that’s ever happened to them.”
“And the closer you get to people, the more complicated honesty becomes, and the more complicated it becomes, the bigger chance the secrets you’ve entrusted to someone can be turned back on you and hurt you in ways you could never fathom…”
Her voice tapered off, and for the first time since she’d known Anne, the vigor and insanity that always injected her presence disappeared, leaving behind a woman who looked so broken a gentle breeze might topple her. Her gaze drifted to some elus
ive spot on the floor.
A nagging realization chewed at Viv. Anne’s words, her pain, weren’t theoretical. Not even close. They were based in real-life trauma. Massive trauma judging by the vacant expression kidnapping her friend’s usual jolly.
She placed a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “Anne? You okay?”
And just like that, Anne was back, smiling and chipper, and she dove right back into the conversation as if nothing had happened. “Bottom line here, sweetie, is that Brock and I have both trusted you with something deeply, deeply personal. Now I can’t speak for Brock, but I wouldn’t have told you about my secret unless I trusted you completely. Admitting bizarre sexual preferences in the Bible Belt isn’t something that’s just thrown out there on a whim, ya know?”
Anne’s words usurped Viv’s complete attention, and regret saturated her veins. Brock had trusted her with a guarded secret, and what had she done? She’d walked out on him without even giving him the benefit of the doubt, without letting him explain himself or anything.
She was the biggest bitch ever.
“Now I feel awful for walking out without giving him a chance.”
“Don’t beat yourself up, sweetie.” Anne draped an arm around Viv and hugged her close. “Your reaction isn’t exactly uncommon. I’m sure Brock will understand.”
“What if he doesn’t?”
“He will. As a group, we’re a particularly forgiving and understanding lot. Now come on…” Anne motioned a hand toward the table. “Let’s eat. You’re gonna need your strength before heading back to Brock’s because you are going back, aren’t you?”
Although she phrased her sentence like a question, it was clearly an order. A friendly order but an order nonetheless. “Yeah, I probably should eat something first.” But she wasn’t in the mood for food anymore, not with the swarm of locusts making a meal of her stomach lining.
Just what the hell was she gonna do about Brock?
She and Anne settled back down at the table and Anne placed a single-serve brown Starbucks bag in front of Viv. “Dig in, sweetie, and while we chow, I’ll give you a crash course in BDSM 101.”
* * * * *
Not even the comfortable confines of Restrained Fantasies did a damn thing to uncoil Brock’s foul mood.
He picked up his cell phone for the millionth time but immediately dropped it back to his desk. In his last voicemail, he’d told Viv he understood her reaction and that he’d give her time to think. That had been two days ago.
Two!
He’d go after her if he had any fucking idea where to actually go. She wasn’t at home. A well-timed visit and chat with the maid had revealed that. And it wasn’t as if he could ask his brother. He could only imagine how that conversation would go.
Where the hell was she? If she didn’t call back by the end of the day, he would start calling hospitals and morgues. Frustration and fear tightened the chains around his chest. Please, god, just let her be safe.
“Knock, knock, boss.”
The sultry sound of a female voice snapped Brock from his panicking. Raven Malek, his full-figured, raven-haired bartender, stood just outside his open office door. Purple streaks contrasted against her messy, multilayered, blacker-than-black hair. Tattoos ran the length of her arms, crisscrossed over her shoulders and finished off by wrapping delicately around her neck. She was striking, but not in a pretty way. She was hot in a very unique, very Raven kind of way.
“Sorry to bother you,” she began, “but there’s someone downstairs asking to see you.”
“Christ.” The last thing he wanted to deal with was people, especially if it was foodservice salespeople inquiring about providing services for Ravenous. He didn’t do well with those people on his best days, and today was about as far removed from a good day as he could get. He’d be more likely to tell them where they could shove their product than engage in anything remotely productive.
“Tell whoever it is I said to fuck off. I’m busy.” The second the harsh words left his lips, he regretted them. He scrubbed a palm over his head and tried desperately to rein in his temper. “But please don’t use those words, Raven.”
“You know I never would, boss.” But Raven didn’t move.
“Is there something else?”
“Yes. It’s just…the person downstairs…well…I’m pretty sure she’s here for personal reasons.”
She? Personal? Hope lurched in his chest. “Who is she?”
“Vivi—”
“Thank fucking god.” With an agility he didn’t know he possessed until now, he bolted for the door, no doubt startling the hell out of his employee. But he really couldn’t summon the effort to give a rat’s ass.
Viv was here.
He bypassed the elevator and headed straight for the stairwell. He practically leapt from landing to landing, and by the time he reached the entryway to Ravenous, his heart was beating an insane rhythm against his ribs.
Viv stood beside the red velvet bench in the corner. She wore a knee-length floral skirt and a tank top that came close to matching the incredible violet hue of her eyes. A pair of silver hoop earrings dangled from her earlobes, the perfect accent to the funky jeweled-jumble of a pendant that hung just at the swell of her impressive tits.
She was simply breathtaking. Air froze in his lungs. A gasp leapt from between his lips. The noise echoed around the foyer like a cannon blast.
Viv looked up. When her gaze met his, the expression on her face reached inside his chest and clamped cold, steely fingers around his heart. He could only recall one other time when he’d seen her look so scared and unsure.
In the waiting room before her first round of chemo.
Instincts overtook caution and common sense, and he rushed to her. Without thought or regard to anything else, he yanked her into his arms and cradled her against him.
To his relief, she didn’t push him away. She didn’t slap him or knee him in the balls but she didn’t exactly return his embrace either. Her body, however, softened a degree or two. He prayed that meant at least some part of her wasn’t opposed to being in his arms.
“I’ve been so worried about you,” he said into her hair. “I was afraid something might have happened to you.”
“No, no. Nothing like that. I’ve just been…sequestered while I tried to sort out all my emotions.”
He held her tighter. Hopefully all that sorting wouldn’t leave him with an even bigger gaping wound in his chest. “And…”
“And I think we should probably find some place private to talk.”
Shit. Just shit. Nothing good ever came after those words.
Ever.
He put her at arm’s length. “How about my office?”
“Sounds good.”
No, it didn’t sound good. It sounded as if he and Viv were finished. “Follow me.”
They fell into silence as they headed upstairs. The trip to the elevator took an eternity. With each step, the hem of her skirt flitted as she walked, playing with his jeans. The phantom touches were like millions of pinpricks of lust, sending need coiling up his leg, right smack to his groin.
His cock hardened, lengthened behind his zipper, and his mind went wild. What was she wearing beneath that flirty skirt? Anything at all? If he knelt before her in the privacy of the elevator and lifted that damn skirt, would his tongue encounter any barriers before sliding between her folds? Or would he be able to lick deep into her sweet pussy with no obstruction?
Fuck.
He really hated this.
When they reached the lift, he pressed his index finger to the red fingerprint scanner that allowed patrons and employees alike access to the upper floors. The scanner was donated by a Restrained Fantasies member who worked for the Dallas Police Department. It was one of the many ways he and Steve were dedicated to keeping their members safe.
More of the same deafening silence assaulted him as the elevator door swished closed and ferried them upstairs. It wasn’t until they were safely secluded in h
is office that Viv finally spoke.
“First off, I need to say I understand why you didn’t tell me you were into BDSM. That said, however, I’m not saying I’m okay with your…lifestyle, but I’m also not saying I’m not okay with it either. Understand?”
“Yes.” Hope simmered past fear. This conversation could certainly have started off worse.
She paced the small area as she pushed on. “I’ve been hashing and rehashing everything over the past couple of days. Hell, I even spent some time online researching your lifestyle, but it wasn’t until I talked with a friend of mine that things started to make sense. And I finally got to the root of what was really, really bothering me.”
Viv finally stilled her insistent pacing and turned to face him.
He held his breath.
“By not telling me about this side of you, you essentially lied to me, Brock, just like your—”
“Don’t say it.” The words shot from his mouth like buckshot from a rifle. “I’m nothing like that bastard.”
“I know.” She stepped close and took his hands in hers. “You’re nothing like Eugene, and mentally, I know that. But that doesn’t negate the fact that when I found out there was this entire other side to you that I didn’t know about…well, it hurt. It felt like this huge betrayal, like everything we’d built was based on a lie.”
“No, no, no. It doesn’t change anything between us, not really. Outside the bedroom, I’m still the same man I’ve always been.” He drew their joined hands to his mouth and pressed kisses to her inner wrists. “Inside, however…”
He let his sentence trail off so she could fill in the blanks. He didn’t dare tell her exactly how it might change in the bedroom. No need to send her running out on him again.
She shook her head. “I just can’t see how. Eugene is an arrogant, controlling asshole who tried to control me every day, and every day I fought him. I relish my freedom, so how—”
“How are you supposed to have a relationship with a man who calls himself a Dominant?”
She nodded, gave his hands a squeeze. “I don’t want things between us to end, Brock. I really don’t. But I refuse to go blindly into a relationship with a man who makes no qualms about dominating women.”
