His Forbidden Kiss

by Jessica Lemmon

“When we talked about you being named CEO, you said it was your responsibility.” She rattled the oversize ice cube in her glass. “Was that all it was?”

  “It’s my legacy. My birthright. Just as COO is yours. Your dad only wanted the best for you, Taylor. Whatever he said or did while he was here, he said or did with you in mind. You meant everything to him.”

  “I miss him.” She hugged the glass to her chest. A poor substitute for her dad. There would always be a void in her arms.

  “So do I.” Royce sat his glass aside, gathered her close and kissed the top of her head.

  “How did my mom lose him and remain standing?” she asked, not expecting an answer. He didn’t offer one, consoling her with a hand moving up and down along her arm. “Is the reward for finally finding The One losing them in the end? How is that fair?”

  “Losing people we love is par for the course, Taylor. None of us get out of this life alive. Someone always has to go first.”

  As sad as his words were, they were oddly comforting. She snuggled into him.

  “Something I’m learning,” he murmured. He touched the bottom of the glass she still cradled. Her next sip was smoother than the last. “Well?”

  “Complex,” she answered. It was a good way to describe scotch.

  Complex was also a good way to describe the feelings she was developing for Royce. She hadn’t thought about The End, not really, but she considered, ever so briefly, the beauty of being someone’s forever.

  * * *

  “We have to stop meeting like this.” Taylor stepped into the supply closet attached to the copy room. It’d been five days since she sipped scotch in Royce’s bed. Five days since he held her in his arms and consoled her. Five days since she realized her feelings for him were deepening.

  She’d been trying not to focus on those “feelings,” since feelings were fickle. But she couldn’t keep from walking toward the glow of the supply closet—especially when the silhouette inside belonged to suited, bow-tied Royce.

  He’d been working a lot this week, and late. Tonight was no exception. The executive floor was practically abandoned at this hour. She understood his new position was demanding. This was a temporary state—the shift from one position to the other wouldn’t last forever. Soon he could go home before nine at night.

  They hadn’t had much time together this week and she missed it. Missed him, in spite of working with him every single day. When he was with her, he was warm. Open. In the previous weeks, she’d caught a glimpse of who he could be if he weren’t shackled to ThomKnox, but that version of him had gone the way of the brontosaurus.

  “You’re working late.”

  He looked exhausted—from the shadows beneath his eyes to the rumpled look of his usually starched shirt. “I can’t find anything in here.” He picked up a box of staples. “I was looking for those clamp things.”

  “Sounds kinky.”

  He gave her a tired smile.

  She reached behind him for a box of black binder clips. “These?”

  “Yes.” He took the box. “Thank you. Assistant interviews are killing me. Half the candidates list video games as their past experience and the other half are wildly overqualified. Finding the right person from those two piles is a challenge. No wonder Bran sings Addison’s praises all the time.”

  “You’ll find the right one.” She fingered the red bow tie at his collar. “In the meantime, how lucky that I stumbled across you in a closet.”

  “Role reversal of the Valentine’s gala.” Heat replaced the fatigue in his eyes. He wanted her. Just like that. Nice to know their physical attraction hadn’t dampened.

  She kissed his frown and his lips softened against hers, the box of binder clips rattling as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer. She raked her fingers into his hair, moaning when his tongue touched hers. She’d never tire of that move.

  “How wrong is it to have sex in this closet?” she whispered.

  His grin was slow, wicked. “Well, I am in charge now.”

  “Mmm, don’t I know it.” She let her hands roam while he made out with her long and slow, his movements languid. She guessed he needed to shake off the long-and-turning-longer week, and so did she. No sense in wasting an opportunity to blow off some steam—and each other’s minds.

  Suddenly, a light flipped on in the copy room, illuminating the shadowed pocket of the supply closet.

  “Oh! Sorry, I...” Addison stood, papers in hand, obviously en route to the copy machine. “Oh. My God.”

  But her Oh. My. God. sounded pleasantly surprised rather than accusatory. Taylor unwound her arms from Royce’s neck. His hands moved to her hips and he positioned himself behind her. The thick ridge of his erection nestled against her bottom. She would’ve smiled if she wasn’t concerned about Addison’s reaction.

  If Addi didn’t know about Taylor and Royce, she did now. And if Brannon had any leftover doubts about them, one conversation with his assistant would erase them.

  “I’ll take care of this later.” Addison sent them another glance before turning to leave the copy room.

  “Addi, wait.” Taylor followed Addi to the doorway. There was a distance between them that Taylor didn’t like. It niggled at her that Bran’s assistant thought of Taylor as “the bad guy.” Taylor didn’t like being unliked by anyone.

  “Yes?” Addison faced her.

  “You’ve been upset with me lately. I might be speaking out of turn, but I feel like it has something to do with Brannon.”

  Addison’s cheeks turned bold pink, but she didn’t confirm nor deny.

  “I don’t know what you heard, but Bran never actually proposed to me. He and I decided we were better off friends. Mutually. That hug you saw—”

  “Was none of my business. Honestly, Taylor, this is unnecessary.”

  “You look at Brannon like...” The way I used to look at Royce. “Like you’re interested in more. Does he know how you feel about him?”

  “I—I don’t understand what this is about. If it’s discretion you’re after, you can trust me not to say anything about you and Royce.”

  “No, that’s not it. You and Bran—”

  “Have a professional relationship, not a personal one.” Addison’s smile was plastic. “Who you kiss at work is none of my business. I’m just trying to do my job.”

  Yowch.

  Addison made it halfway down the corridor before Taylor decided to make one last ditch effort at peace between them.

  “I think you and Bran would be good together!” she called out. “For what it’s worth.”

  Addi stopped walking and turned her head slowly to the side. She looked half mortified, half nauseous, and then Taylor saw why.

  Brannon entered the corridor slowly, his pained expression and Addison’s a matching set.

  Taylor winced. The road to recovery for her and Addison was about to become even longer thanks to Taylor’s big mouth...and the fact that Brannon heard every word that came out of it.

  Sixteen

  The journey from CFO to CEO wasn’t going as smoothly as he’d originally—and naively—believed. Turned out the transition was more complicated than swapping the nameplate on his desk.

  Royce was still responsible for his CFO duties while adjusting to CEO. Luckily he’d had a round of interviews today for CFO, and had met with two very promising prospects. He looked forward to finalizing the decision and offloading some of his work.

  He’d managed to grab dinner with Taylor one night this week, a far cry from how many nights he preferred spending with her. She was understanding, and had mentioned to him that “these things” took time before reassuring him his hectic schedule was temporary.

  “It’ll work out. You’ll see,” she’d said.

  Comforting words, but harder in practice than in theory.

  He’d promise
d to leave the office by noon on Thursday to meet her for lunch—just like he’d promised on Friday. And today. His entire week had been derailed and here he was on a Saturday having missed yet another opportunity to see her.

  He picked up his cell phone to text an apology when she appeared in the doorway of his office holding a brown sack with handles.

  “Surprise!”

  He took one look at the familiar black logo on the bag, one whiff of the enticing smells of garlic, robust tomato sauce and rich oregano, and his stomach roared.

  “That smells incredible,” were his first words. “As do you.” Her wide smile suggested she didn’t mind that he’d complimented the food before her.

  “I didn’t hear from you at noon.”

  He checked his cell phone for the time. 1:47 p.m.? “I’m sorry. I was going to call. I had no idea how late it was.”

  “I figured. I had to come into the office and check on a few things, anyway.” She glanced at the stacks of paper on his desk that had spilled from his inbox. “You know, you could ask for my help.”

  He gestured to the eleven windows open on his computer screen. “And subject you to this? I like you too much.”

  “Who else can you trust with the company’s biggest secrets?” She unloaded their lunch onto the low table in front of a pair of guest chairs. She offered a hunk of ciabatta bread and his mouth watered. Garlic was his favorite contemporary Italian restaurant in River Grove. The yeasty, warm bread was a gluten-free person’s worst nightmare. He opened the lid on a container. A huge square of lasagna covered in freshly grated Parmesan cheese caused his stomach to rumble again.

  “You’re serious?” He dunked the bread into the sauce and took a bite. Heavenly.

  “I am COO. I can handle some of the excess in the short term. Plus us working closely solves the problem of finding time to see each other. Sort of like date-working.” She handed him a plastic fork.

  “Scandalous.”

  “For two of the top brass at ThomKnox, it very well might be.” She smiled.

  He kissed the corner of that smile. They ate, discussing strategy and how some of his workload could be pieced and parceled out. By the time she stuffed their empty food containers into the bag—he’d helped finish her eggplant parmesan, which he begrudgingly admitted was better than anticipated—he was alive with the excitement of having a plan.

  “How’s Bran doing?” she asked out of nowhere.

  He ignored the rogue spike of jealousy. Royce knew Taylor wanted to be with him, not his brother—her reaction on Valentine’s Day had solidified that—so him feeling possessive over her made no sense.

  “Bran’s busy ignoring me.”

  “I don’t know why he’s mad at you. Your father picked you to be CEO. It’s not as if you lobbied for it.”

  He tucked her dark blond hair behind her ear. “It’s more about my not telling Bran when I knew. I should’ve.”

  “You didn’t know Jack was going to announce it at the party.” But her tone held a question she spoke when she said, “Did you?”

  “I didn’t know. But I could’ve guessed.” His father liked the spotlight and he’d much rather go out with a bang than a fizzle.

  “You’re sure about taking on some of the workload while I’m finding an assistant?” He tipped her chin.

  “I’m sure.”

  “Thank you. And thank you...for the other things.”

  “Other things?”

  “You breezed in here, fed me and took my stress away.”

  “Yeah, but I was just—”

  He kissed her gently, enjoying when she went pliant beneath him. He’d had a hell of a week and having her support meant a lot to him. Even if it was hard to admit he needed it. “I appreciate it. More than you know. That’s what I’m trying to say.”

  He was in undiscovered territory. Having someone to rely on, to trust, had been absent from his personal life for a long time. Taylor made him feel more capable, not less. Having her in his corner was an idea he was already used to.

  As long as he kept work first and wasn’t distracted, he didn’t see the harm. ThomKnox was his number one focus. There wasn’t room for much more.

  * * *

  “This feels like an abuse of power.” Taylor bit her lip and stared at the curtly worded email on the screen.

  “Why?”

  She narrowed her eyelids. “You know why. Lowell Olsen is a huge distributor and you’re willing to ruin the relationship because I don’t like him?”

  “No one likes him. Plus, he’s bullying you. We don’t negotiate with bullies. We’ll find a better store.”

  She hesitated over her laptop keyboard. “But—”

  His finger on top of hers, he pressed a button and the “we’re no longer interested in placing ThomKnox merchandise in your store” email was sent.

  “Oh my gosh. You didn’t!” She was elated and shocked and almost—fine, she’d admit it—drunk with power.

  “I did. And now it’s done.”

  As romantic gestures went, this wasn’t hearts and flowers, or chocolates and a puppy wearing a big red bow. But Royce’s love language was work. Roughly translated, his ending negotiations with Lowell Olsen felt romantic to her.

  She supposed that was expected from a woman in love.

  Yep. She’d done it. She’d fallen head over heels for Royce Knox. Of course, she knew better than to share that with him. He’d been buried up to his eyeballs since he’d been appointed CEO and was only now treading water and breathing at the same time. A profession of true love on top of that might send him over the edge.

  He took the laptop from her and set it on a pile of papers, mail and folders on the coffee table. “Guess what?”

  You love me, too?

  “What?”

  “Time for dessert.”

  “Dessert?” They’d shared a very unsexy dinner of pizza and more pizza. It might’ve been goat cheese and pear with smoked, caramelized onion sauce, but it was still pizza and she’d eaten a ton of it. “How could you be hungry for anything after...” She trailed off as he reached for the waistband of her leggings and began tugging them from her legs. “Royce.”

  “Dessert,” he insisted. “You’ve worked very hard this weekend and you deserve a reward.”

  How could she argue with that? She couldn’t. Not when he urged her to her back and peeled those pants the rest of the way off. Or when he kissed her belly button, down her thighs and then up to her—oh.

  His tongue should be bronzed. He was that good.

  The skills he had in the boardroom were supersized in the bedroom—or the living room. In any room. She’d been sleeping with him for a little over a month and he’d never failed to render her a boneless mass, her blood sizzling and popping like oil in a hot pan. The man was sex, and she couldn’t reconcile how well he’d kept the friskier part of himself hidden from her—from the world. Who knew this was lurking beneath the veneer of a serious, sometimes-bespectacled number cruncher.

  “Yes, there,” she encouraged, her mind blanking as he tasted her.

  “How about here?”

  She liked to think she’d coaxed out his inner sexy beast. After all, he’d brought out the animal in her. Could she be his secret superpower? Was Royce hers? He knew what she needed physically and had never failed to deliver. She’d been exactly who he needed whether at work or at home. Helping him hadn’t been charity; it’d come naturally. The way a couple in love prioritized being there for each other.

  Royce’s second finger joined his first in the race to her orgasm. Her hips bucked as she tumbled over in record time. Static fuzz descended, blotting out her worries. The words on her tongue as she clutched around his fingers were “Yes, Royce, yes.” But if the timing had been different, if she would’ve allowed her heart to speak for her, those words would have been “I love you. I
love you...”

  In a perfect world, he would’ve returned that sentiment instead of saying, “Be right back.”

  As he left the room, she warned herself not to rush him. She wanted him however she could have him, and if that meant she loved him with everything in her without him knowing, then that’s how it would have to be. They had plenty of time for him to realize he loved her, too. He had a lot on his plate. That was all.

  He returned to the living room, sheathed, but instead of crashing down over her, he lifted her into his arms. Pressing her back against the nearest blank wall, he instructed her to wrap her legs around his waist.

  She did as she was told and was rewarded by the long, slick slide of him entering her. Sensitive from his earlier kisses, her channel tightened around him as he moved, giving them both the pressure they desired.

  “Taylor. God.” Each broken word fell from lips she kissed over and over, while her fingers toyed in his hair. She kept her gaze on his face, her truncated breaths sawing from her lungs as they made love against the wall. She had to see the moment he came. Had to witness taking him over the edge of control—control he favored but relinquished whenever he was with her.

  It was heady, that power shift.

  His hips sped and sweat broke out on his forehead. Loud groans of excitement exited his throat, folded around swear words.

  “Harder. Harder,” she encouraged. I love you.

  “I’m there. I’m there.” His voice faded into a shout of completion as he pressed her back flat against the wall. She absorbed his weight and strength, kissing his face and neck and tasting the salt on his skin.

  He loved her, too. Soon he’d realize it. She wouldn’t rush him.

  They had plenty of time.

  Seventeen

  A quick rap-rap-rap echoed off Royce’s office door but his visitor didn’t wait to be invited before opening it.

  “I’m not not speaking to you.” Brannon walked in and shut the door behind him.

  Royce pulled his glasses off his nose. “Good. Now get out. I’m busy.” He figured Brannon had been keeping busy, too. Their stint of not talking, of not hanging out would end eventually. Even if it had been nearly a month since the meeting where Gia asked about their “snit.”