His Forbidden Kiss

by Jessica Lemmon

  “Good evening.” She said it as sweetly as Red Riding Hood, but the twitch in her smile was almost predatory. Before he could warn himself to be practical again, before he could rein in his hope that she’d come here for a reason that was as far away from professional as imaginable, his father’s words revisited him like the Ghost of Longing Past.

  “You’re also careful in the wrong ways. Being reckless is okay from time to time.”

  No, the world hadn’t flown off the axis when he’d kissed Taylor—in fact, things were going his way. Could be this was a sign that he was on the right track rather than the wrong one.

  Lucky for her he was a safe Big Bad Wolf to her Red Riding Hood. With a grin he gestured to his foyer. “Won’t you come in?”

  Ten

  Go big or go home.

  That’d been Taylor’s mantra through drying off after her shower and refreshing her one-and-a-half-inch-barrel curls. From smoothing body oil over her legs and arms to letting the La Perla slip and slide over her smooth, sensitive skin. She’d dug through her underwear drawer and found the matching lace thong. She hadn’t worn the thong before either, having categorized it as something she’d wear “someday” like the lingerie.

  But now that she was standing in Royce’s foyer wearing nothing but silk and lace, now that her hands were nervously tightening the belt on her trench coat, she worried that she’d gone too big. That maybe she should go home.

  “Perfect timing. I had no one to celebrate with and here you are. Can I interest you in a glass of wine?” Royce asked casually as if her showing up at his residence at 10:00 p.m. in do-me heels and a very short trench was normal behavior.

  “Sure.”

  He took her clutch and keys from her shaking hands and gestured to the closet in the foyer. “You can hang your coat if you like.”

  She worried for a hot second that he had X-ray vision and knew exactly what she wore beneath her coat—that he’d gleaned the real reason she’d come here.

  “No. Thank you. I’m, uh...cold.”

  He dipped his head in a short nod, his expression revealing none of his thoughts. “Red Zin should help with that.”

  He moved to the kitchen and she walked into the living room. She’d been here once, shortly after he’d moved in five or six years ago. It’d been a great space then but lacked the warmth it exuded now. The cigar-colored leather couch and modern gas fireplace in the center of the wall made her want to curl up in her jammies with a good book.

  “Your wine.” A balloon-shaped, stemless glass appeared in front of her and she took it, ignoring that her palms were starting to sweat.

  Her previous roar of womanhood had turned into a kitten’s mew.

  How disappointing.

  Worse, her confidence was flagging. It was possible she’d read Royce’s reaction today wrong. Maybe he hadn’t been checking her out. Maybe for him, peeking at her cleavage was no more interesting than...than...the plant in his foyer. Was that so unbelievable? That he could resist her?

  Ugh.

  “Royce, listen...” Setting the wineglass down, she faced him, ready to excuse herself and apologize for barging in. She wasn’t prepared to confess the truth, but the excuse of work might be plausible enough to explain away her being here.

  Maybe.

  “Have you changed your mind about the coat?” His question startled her speechless. She’d never felt so vulnerable in her life.

  If she said no, she could blather on about Lowell Olsen some more, saying how she wanted to discuss strategies. Royce would listen patiently, dole out advice and then she’d be on her way home no worse for wear.

  But if she said yes... If she allowed Royce to peel her out of the coat and stood before him in her underwear, well... There’d be no explaining away why she was here, would there?

  She was at the ultimate point of no return.

  He might wrap her up in her coat—or hell, the nearest blanket—and command her to “go home, young lady.” Okay, probably he wouldn’t say that, but the sentiment would be implied. She was younger than him by six years, and hadn’t his age been trotted out as one of the reasons she wasn’t supposed to take an interest in him?

  It was possible that, aside from the anomaly at the gala, he still saw her as his youngest sister’s best friend. Not a woman who wanted to strip him out of his suit and spend a good deal of time with him naked.

  Fear pressed against the base of her throat as she considered the likelihood that she’d blown his behavior this week out of proportion. Maybe his slow glances weren’t interest, but mere curiosity.

  “Taylor?” His eyebrows pinched in confusion. This was her chance to undo the potentially cataclysmic choice she’d made to come here. Possibly her last chance to escape unscathed.

  But another deeply rooted desire shouted in protest. This was also her last chance to grab hold of what she wanted. She’d never had a rebellious streak. Why not start now?

  Royce’s hand hovered in midair, poised to take her coat if she was brave enough to hand it over.

  “So?” the horned devil on her shoulder whispered, “What’s it going to be?” Before Taylor could consult the angel on her other shoulder, the winged-and-haloed hussy nodded her encouragement.

  Damned if she did... Damned if she didn’t.

  “Yes.” When the word eked past her throat she couldn’t believe she’d actually said it. And when she reached for his hand and placed it over the knot on her trench coat, it was like watching a scene in a movie. “I want you to take it off.”

  Hand resting over one of his, her heart thundering so loud she could scarcely hear her own erratic breathing, she watched as his other hand joined the first. As his fingers began to gently unknot the belt at her waist...

  * * *

  For once, the pragmatic side of Royce’s mind was as silent as if it’d been bound and gagged. There was another side of him, an animalistic side whose instincts trumped reason, that was in charge now.

  Knot undone, he opened Taylor’s coat, his fingers twitching over what he’d found beneath. Black silk with a subtle shimmer glided over her barely dressed body. She shifted and the material slipped tantalizingly over her breasts, drawing his attention to their hardening peaks.

  This was no dress. This was sex sewn together with lace.

  He consulted her face for a beat and in her expression found approval—and a question. Did he like what he saw?

  “This is a pleasant surprise,” he murmured.

  Relief washed over her. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  “Was there another option?”

  “You could tell me to put my coat on and go home.”

  He couldn’t imagine a scenario in which he said that. He slowly removed her coat from her shoulders. “Is that what you want?”

  Her head shook back and forth. No.

  Good. That sure as hell wasn’t what he wanted.

  Draping the coat over the back of the couch, he slid his fingers over the impossibly smooth material wanting to touch her bare skin beneath it, which he’d bet was equally smooth. She smelled good, like the bowl of lemons on his countertop—a light citrusy scent that reminded him of summer. She brought her own sunshine on this February night, her eyes bright and earnest, her body arching toward him as he pulled her closer. And when he set his mouth to hers, she responded in the best way imaginable.

  She crashed into him lips first, her hands smoothing over his button-down shirt, moving from his pectorals to his shoulders and around to the back of his head, where she gripped his hair.

  He sneaked his tongue into her mouth and encountered her equally eager tongue, and the rest of his body moved closer to her as well. Hips first, he ground his erection against her center. A sultry moan sounded in her throat.

  He left the haven of her mouth to kiss the gentle curve of her throat before moving to the se
nsitive skin behind her ear. Hands smoothing over her ribs, he hesitated at the swells of her generous breasts, giving her a chance to push him away. To stop the forward motion that began with her showing up at his house in naught but a scrap of silk and the tallest shoes he’d ever seen her wear.

  Instead of stopping him, she cupped his hand and laid it over one breast, tugging his mouth to hers and renewing her efforts to kiss him stupid. With the thumb of his right hand he brushed over her nipple, his left hand joining in so that her other breast wasn’t neglected.

  She hissed his name on a tight breath, her eyes shut and head dropping back.

  “Is this what you came for tonight, Taylor?” Confidence made his voice a growl.

  Rarely did he indulge in decadence, save a tall slice of chocolate cake now and then when a craving hit. Taylor wasn’t unlike the sinful dessert, her layers exposed. He knew once he took that first taste, he’d devour all of her.

  “Yes, but...”

  “But?” He lifted his head to watch her.

  “I wasn’t sure if you’d respond...favorably.”

  Taking one of her hands, he pressed it against his crotch, straining forward so she could feel just how “favorably” he’d reacted. Her pupils widened, all but swallowing the soft green-brown irises.

  “Are you sure this is what you want?” The beast he’d unleashed howled in protest, but he needed her to be sure before they went any further. He’d been swept up before and wouldn’t go in blindly again.

  “Are you?” She stuck a finger in the knot of his bow tie and tugged. The rasping sound as she slid it from his collar sent goose bumps down his arms. She tossed the tie onto the floor, one eyebrow arched in question. “You didn’t seem interested earlier today.”

  “I was at work.” And trying his damnedest to focus. “What did you expect me to do?”

  “Fair point.” She smoothed her hands over his shoulders. He liked the way she looked at him, like he was a meal and she was starving.

  His mind blanked of all thoughts save one: Take her. Show her how beautiful and brave she is for showing up for you.

  Right when he needed her. Right where he wanted her. Before he’d known it himself.

  He bent at the knees to smooth his palms under the lacy, satiny number and over her bare bottom. Thumb tracing the strap of her thong, it was his turn to groan.

  He opened his mouth over her breast and lightly bit her nipple through the fabric. She clutched the back of his hair, her reaction an encouraging, “Oh God, Royce.”

  A wolfish grin emerged as he swept his mouth from her breast and slipped the thin straps off her shoulders. He bared her breasts and shimmied the material past her hips. It fell into a tiny black pool at her feet. One he could’ve sworn he’d fallen into, and was now careening into oblivion.

  Tongue tracing her bare, puckered nipple, he slid one hand beneath the material of her thong, encountering her wetness. She tipped forward to ride his fingers, every slick, smooth glide sending his erection from rigid to damn painful. The torture was exquisite. He returned the favor, his mission to find out how much teasing she could stand. He suckled her nipple as she sighed his name.

  “Yes, yes,” came her next frantic whisper. She rode his hand in desperation, seeking her release. “Royce, please.”

  He straightened, his fingers moving double time against her, his eyes burning into hers. He wanted to watch her when she came. Watch her come apart in his hands, revel in the moment she achieved what she’d come here for: a powerful, and he’d bet beautiful, orgasm.

  “What do you want, Taylor?” he asked with calm authority.

  “This.” Eyes closed, she held his shoulders for purchase.

  “Describe ‘this.’” He knew, but wanted to hear her say it. “Tell me. Please.”

  It was the please that tipped her. Her eyelids opened and her lust-blown gaze landed on his. “You. Touching me.”

  “Touching you how?” His control ebbed, his cock surging toward the woman who was making him want the one thing he shouldn’t. Her.

  Only now he couldn’t remember why he shouldn’t. Something about work and transition... Or was it that she was a colleague and they had to be a unified force...

  The jumble of words in his head knotted themselves into a tangle. He couldn’t focus on anything but the woman in his arms.

  “I need... I need...” Her brows bent, her mouth dropping open as her cheeks flushed. He watched her face contort and felt the warm rush of moisture on his fingers. When her knees slackened, he locked an arm around her waist and held her up. She drooped her arms around his neck lazily.

  Seconds later, she blew out a breath that ended on a soft, satisfied hum.

  “You’re gorgeous when you come, Taylor.”

  An ethereal goddess, to be precise.

  Her smile spread on her face like honey dripping off warm toast, her front teeth stabbing her bottom lip as she fisted back his hair. “I bet you are, too.”

  He liked her boldness. She’d always possessed that attribute but until the gala it’d never been directed toward him. When she kissed him, it sent him into a weightless, uncontrolled spin. He couldn’t seem to find “up” again, couldn’t make himself care about the consequences he’d held so precious not long ago.

  “Only one way to find out,” he heard himself say.

  Lifting her naked body into his arms, he carried her to the couch. The moment her back hit the leather she began working his belt through the buckle.

  Eleven

  She’d had no idea what to name the craving that had shaken her for the last week, but now she understood what the hunger had been about. What she’d been hungry for was him.

  Before Royce sent his fingers into a one-man banjo solo over the most sensitive part of her body, she’d have sworn she was doing fine on her own in that department. What could possibly be the difference between a man’s fingers and her own?

  Now she had no idea where to start counting. The rough pads versus smooth? The not knowing what he would do next versus her own evenly timed strokes? Or the dirty, delicious way he talked to her during?

  Yes. To all of the above.

  Aftershocks shook her shoulders as she relived the best orgasm she’d had in literally years.

  But she couldn’t chastise herself for not sleeping with someone sooner. Instinctually she knew that anyone other than Royce wouldn’t have delivered as well.

  Even after he removed her coat she’d half expected him to turn her down. With him, calm practicality reigned supreme.

  Not this version of him, though. He was different tonight. Looser and more open. Eager to please her.

  Royce pushed his slacks along with his boxer briefs off his muscular legs. He stood before her, his heavy erection standing against a backdrop of ab muscles she’d had no idea were there. His lips twitched into a smile as he peeled the starched white shirt from his glorious chest. The right amount of wiry hair dusted his pecs and led from his belly button to the part of him she couldn’t wait to experience.

  The dampness between her legs renewed, a warm trickle sliding through her as she mentally prepared for all that length, all that strength covering her. Clothes in hand, he tucked them against his body and bent to kiss her lightly on the mouth. “Be back.”

  “Wh-where are you going?” She propped herself up on her elbows, watching his clenching and contracting ass moved away from her and down the hallway.

  “Condom,” he called as he vanished into the darkness.

  Right. Protection. She eased down on the couch, allowing herself a small laugh at her forgetfulness—or maybe it was the sheer joy of getting exactly what she wanted with relative ease.

  He didn’t stay gone long, padding barefoot back to her. His hand wrapped around himself, he rolled on the protection she was glad one of them remembered. He lowered himself onto the couch and she
parted her thighs to accept him. His warm-bordering-hot skin came in contact with her greedy nipples and she gasped at the sensation.

  “I like your hair this way.” He wrapped one of her curls around his finger. “I noticed it this morning.”

  “That wasn’t all you noticed.”

  Looking over his shoulder at the high heels still strapped to her feet, he gave her a feral grin. “Lock those around my thighs.”

  She did as she was told, her body naturally tilting to accept him. When he nudged her entrance she accepted him inch by glorious inch, but made sure she kept her eyes open. Watching him endure the slow torture of entering her was sheer joy, and one he savored. He stretched her intentionally before he began to move. Seated to the root, he let out a sound resembling a growl.

  “You looked as innocent as Red Riding Hood on my porch, but there was something wild in your eyes.”

  “Wild, as in unhinged?” A breath hissed from between her teeth as he pulled out and slid in again—so smooth, so good.

  “Wild, as in you’re not as safe as you look.”

  “Are you the wolf in this scenario?” She toyed with his hair, loving talking during sex. Unique, this entire encounter.

  “Maybe we’re both wolves.” His next thrust wasn’t as careful as the one before it, brushing her G-spot and causing her brain to skip like a smooth rock over a still pond.

  Before she sank beneath the surface she forced him back into focus. “You’re the wolf.”

  He winked. Winked!

  “I like you like this,” she said, unsure what she’d meant by that until she continued speaking. “Unable to resist me.”

  “You make it hard, Taylor Thompson.”

  “Quite the double entendre.”

  “Keep up that smart mouth and I’ll double my efforts.”

  “Threat or promise?”

  He was still for a second. “A threat you’ll beg for after how good I make you feel.” He kissed her lips quickly.

  Proving his ability to blot out her mind, he doubled his efforts. Each stroke deeper, more frantic. Her fingernails dragged down the skin of his back, leaving stripes. She fought to hold on to him while slipping off the side of the planet. Voice strained with effort, he said, “Let’s see that O face again, Red.”