Read In His Grip: His #5 (A Billionaire Domination Serial) for Free Online Page A

without paying because she’d seen me so many times with Adrian. The nature walk and guided tour to the forested area just beyond the resort’s manicured lawns, where exotic orchids grew thickest, kept reminding me of the day I met Knight and he’d impressed me with his spiel about the natural wonders of Ilha de Flor.
    I was a runaway submissive today, pretending to be a tourist, which really wasn’t all that different from my everyday life. A girl like me was only ever a visitor in that world of New York offices, private planes and yachts, Senate luncheons, Hampton getaways. But the question was this… What… who was I here?
    All day long, little snippets of conversation between Adrian and me had haunted my thoughts. When he’d mentioned his surprise that Pritchard Management had never tapped my firm for their legal defense, I didn’t think I’d mentioned yet that I worked for a law firm. He’d said I should know that men of wealth always pursued what they couldn’t have, but he hadn’t been aware of my history with Penn. That I’d known of.
    Late afternoon and I was shuffling hangdog up the path to the villa, my mind swirling with possibilities but unable to fully grasp any. I supposed it was possible Adrian had known who I was when I arrived on Ilha de Flor. Society functions, charity banquets, gossip columns… There had been plenty of photo opportunities with Penn and me together. But why would Adrian care? Was there something special about the rivalry between him and Penn? Something that went beyond the uber-competitiveness I’d expect of ultra-wealthy alpha male businessmen? Was it…? Was it the woman Penn had alluded to, the one Adrian had loved?
    Just as the daylight was taking on the orange cast of approaching sunset, I nodded to the security guard and slipped through the front door of the villa. The house was dark and quiet, the long, low spaces pressing close. Despite my need to have it out with Adrian Knight over my suspicions, I felt a measure of relief. But then dread. Where was he? Was he that angry with me over last night at dinner? I wandered down the hall chuckling bitterly at myself, the righteously angry victim of Adrian’s manipulation one moment, a submissive fearful of her lover’s displeasure and disappointment the next.
    I flipped on the bedroom light and jumped a fraction of an inch, like I had felt the instant when Adrian’s silvery brown eyes focused on me. The shutters were closed tight, and he’d been sitting in the dark in one of the two white leather chairs beside the antique round table in the corner. Just the sight of him made my stomach bob with both nausea and painfully familiar anticipation. He was wearing nothing but a towel slung low around his muscled hips, baring his smooth chest, falling between his spread knees. My body’s reaction to his near nudity vied with the mental flare of warning when I saw the alcohol bottle at his elbow and the glass of dark amber liquid in his hand.
    “My wayward Miss Bloom returns,” he murmured softly, and I was grateful that he did not slur. Drunken men made me nervous. “Should I ask you what you did today, since you weren’t at the project site and you weren’t in the villa?”
    This was it. Time for answers, if I was brave enough to ask the questions. “I needed time to get my thoughts together,” I told him, my voice starting out unsteady but strengthening as I spoke.
    He put his drink down and rested both elbows on the scrolled wooden arms of the chair. The fingertips of one hand curled loosely, brushing his thigh where the towel had fallen back to reveal it. I couldn’t help licking my lips, remembering what it felt like when those muscles flexed, as he worked his way into me.
    “You’re forgetting something, aren’t you, Miss Bloom?” His brow low and eyes dark, Adrian stared at me, pointed and nonplussed. My breath hitched with a surge of adrenaline, a shot of anxiety over the possibility that he knew I’d spoken