His Forbidden Kiss

by Jessica Lemmon

  She’d come into Royce’s office last week telling him if he hurt Taylor, she’d castrate him. He told her it wasn’t serious, which was a bold-faced lie. Not only had Taylor and Royce been sleeping together for six weeks, he’d seen her several times last week and twice this week alone. And they had plans tonight.

  As for Bran, he knew that Royce and Taylor were “dating,” but that was also a tame way to describe their relationship. Royce had yet to clue his brother in on any details. Not that he’d asked.

  “If you’re going to insist on staying, at least sit down,” Royce told him.

  “Why don’t you stand?”

  “Because I’m working. Didn’t we just cover this?”

  “We have an appointment at noon.” Bran folded his arms over his chest, defiant.

  “I have no such appointment on my calendar.”

  “Write one in and get off your ass. Let’s go.”

  “If you have something to say, why don’t you say it and then go back to what you were doing before you came in here to interrupt me with this nonsense?”

  “This ‘nonsense’ is exactly why we’re not speaking. And this appointment is one you need to show up for. It’s what’s going to put us back where we belong.”

  Royce would do anything for his brother, including going to a mystery appointment so that they could make amends. They needed to make amends. They had a company to run—ThomKnox wouldn’t function with two out of three Knox siblings. Success required all of them.

  He shut his laptop and stood from his chair. “What do I need to bring?”

  Bran’s smile was smug. “You don’t need to bring anything. I have it covered.”

  * * *

  Bran’s house was a sleek, modern, square utopia. Glass and steel and clean lines made up the design; none of the homier accents like bowls of fruit or vases of flowers here. Odd the way the architecture of Royce’s and Bran’s homes contrasted the men themselves—Royce’s love of spreadsheets and black-and-white areas should have made him better suited to sparse decor. Outside, a huge patio area outfitted with a bar and seating flanked an in-ground pool and a new feature to the yard—one that fit Bran to a T.

  “Is that...?” Royce started.

  “A boxing ring.”

  “So you took Dad seriously.”

  “I figured it’d be good exercise. I’ve been practicing with the trainer. Know what I noticed?”

  “You’re no Mike Tyson?” Royce answered drily.

  “I noticed that it helps release emotion.” Bran pulled on one boxing glove and then threw Royce a pair. “It resolves issues that were formerly unresolved.”

  “I’m not going to fight you, Bran.”

  “It’s not fighting. It’s boxing. It’s a sport.”

  This was ridiculous. What did he hope to solve with the two of them throwing punches?

  “What’s wrong? Afraid I’ll kick your ass?” Bran offered a crooked smile.

  Even as Royce assured himself he had nothing to prove to his younger brother, he was baited by that challenge. Giving in to his baser instincts, he tossed his suit jacket aside and pulled his boxing gloves on as well.

  After the quickest tutorial ever, Royce and Bran began circling each other in the ring.

  “You should’ve told me Dad chose you,” Bran said.

  “He asked me not to.” Royce held his arms wide.

  “Gloves up. I don’t want to break your nose.” Bran demonstrated by shielding his own face.

  “This is stupid.” But Royce put his gloves up. He liked his nose the way it was, thank you very much.

  “We’re in this together, big brother. That means circumventing Dad sometimes. Like when we broke the window in the guest bedroom and moved a plant in front of it instead of telling him what happened.”

  “We didn’t get away with that, either.” Bouncing on the balls of his feet, Royce lifted his gloves in time to thwart an incoming swing.

  “Good block. That doesn’t change the fact that I would’ve liked to know what you knew. Rather than sit there with my dick in my hand at the party.”

  “Pretty sure all eyes were on me. Which I didn’t appreciate, you know.”

  “We could’ve been a unified front.” Bran swiped the air, but Royce ducked out of the way.

  “Nothing above the neck, remember? Those were the rules.”

  “They’re more like guidelines.” Bran danced in a half circle. “How are you and Taylor doing?”

  “What?”

  “Don’t play coy with me. You and Taylor have been all over each other lately. Beyond the one time Addison caught you in the supply closet, I’m assuming.” Bran took another swing and, thankfully, missed. “Didn’t suspect you for the falling-in-love type.”

  “What are you—” Royce dropped his gloves but lifted them just as fast to block a blow meant for his jaw.

  Bran laughed, enjoying himself way too much. “Keep your guard up!”

  “What are we, teenagers? I’m not falling in love. Taylor and I are partners in the most physical sense of the word.”

  “She doesn’t want any more from you?”

  Her words from the night they’d shared scotch came back to him. “She wants a family and marriage, but she also wants a career. I’m certain I’m only involved in the last part of that list.”

  “How certain?”

  Royce stilled, giving his brother an impatient glare.

  “You’re smart, Royce, but dense when it comes to women.”

  Royce threw a punch and missed, but knocked Bran’s footing off. That felt good.

  “You’re one to talk,” he told his younger brother. “Addison wants you and you’re a clueless oaf.”

  “Taylor embarrassed us both when she shouted that we’d be good together. The whole office heard.”

  “The four of us were the only ones in the office.”

  “Yeah, well, Addi and I are coworkers in the most physical sense of the word. Stop changing the subject.”

  A few more swings were thrown, but none of them connected. Bran’s comments circled Royce’s head like a school of hungry piranha.

  “What do you know about Taylor, anyway?” Royce finally asked, wondering if Bran was dancing around a point as well as this boxing ring.

  “She’s been my friend most of her life,” Bran answered. “She’s always talked about having kids, a husband. A golden retriever, for Christ’s sake. That doesn’t sound anything like you.”

  It didn’t. But that was never what Royce and Taylor were about.

  “Name the flower she’s allergic to,” Bran said.

  “Daisies.” It was a guess. Royce swung, aiming for Bran’s ribs. His brother slid out of the way, easy as you please. His trainer was good.

  “Lilies.” Bran smirked. “Do you talk to her, ever?”

  Grunting as he stepped out of the way of one of Bran’s throws, Royce said, “We must’ve skipped over that all-important ‘do you or don’t you like lilies’ conversation so crucial to new couples.”

  “So you admit you’re a couple now.” Bran stopped moving. Royce threw another punch, but landed against the ropes when his forward momentum took him there.

  “I’m sure you two had a lot more time to talk than she and I do.” Royce pushed off the ropes, spun on his brother and swung. The punch connected. Bran clutched his stomach and let out an audible oof.

  Satisfied, Royce added, “We use our mouths for other pastimes when we’re together.”

  Bran turned and landed the hit he’d been angling for since they stepped into the ring. Light exploded behind Royce’s eye and he held up his glove a millisecond too late.

  “What the hell!” Royce cupped his eye, which was beginning to feel the same size as his boxing glove.

  “Sorry. That was supposed to be your nose,” Bran said, not s
ounding sorry at all.

  “What’s this about? Do you want her for yourself or something?” Dammit, his eye hurt.

  Bran dropped his arms, gloves hanging at his sides, a look of utter surprise on his face. “That’s history. You know that, right? Taylor and I patched up what almost happened—what would’ve been a disaster. This has nothing to do with me trying to win the girl.”

  “So you’re pissed I won CEO and you didn’t?” Royce’s head hadn’t begun to throb yet but he guessed it would start any second.

  “No. Goddammit, Royce. I’m pissed you didn’t trust Gia or me with that news. We’ve always been a unit. Always.”

  Royce heard the hurt in his brother’s voice. What he said was true. Bran and Gia and Royce were three members of a busy, hardworking family. They were far from latchkey kids, but considering that a staff cared for them during the busy early years of ThomKnox, the three siblings leaned on each other first and foremost.

  Bran tore off his gloves. “Taylor Thompson is in love with you, and if you don’t see that, you’re a bigger idiot than I was.” He ducked between the ropes and sat on the steps leading out of the ring.

  Royce scrunched his face, aware of the dull thud of a bruise forming. A shiner for the new CEO. Great. He stepped out of the ring and joined Bran, whose elbows were resting on his knees.

  “I messed up, Royce,” Bran said to his shoes. Both of them were panting from their workout.

  Royce took a clumsy step, regained his balance and sat next to his brother. “Your heart was in the right place.”

  “That’s just it. My heart wasn’t involved at all.” Bran sighed. “If you tell anyone this I’ll black your other eye.”

  Royce held up a hand and silently swore his allegiance.

  “I thought being engaged to Taylor would give me a better shot at CEO.”

  Royce frowned. “You’re plenty qualified for CEO.”

  “Yeah, I know. But I wasn’t an option in Dad’s eyes. It was you the whole time. Part of me knew that. And when you knew that, I wish you would have come to me so that we could’ve had a moment to absorb it away from all those extra sets of eyes.”

  Royce’s shoulders dropped. He wished that, too.

  “I could’ve hurt Taylor, Royce. She didn’t love me, but if she had and I led her on?” Bran shook his head. “She never would’ve forgiven me for backing out of our engagement. And I would’ve backed out eventually. I care about her, but marriage? That’s insane.”

  Just hearing the word marriage in reference to Taylor made the hair on Royce’s neck stand on end. “I doubt she wants to marry me.” But his voice wasn’t as solid as he’d like it to be. They’d grown close. Shared a lot of intimate nights and slept side by side. She’d brought him lunch and offered to help him at work and, like he’d pointed out a few minutes ago, they were a new couple.

  Couple.

  He sure as hell wasn’t ready for that.

  “Next time you talk to Taylor, do me a favor and let her know that Addi and I are not going to date each other.”

  “Why not? Addison’s pretty.”

  “Pretty? She’s gorgeous. But if Taylor keeps teasing her, Addi might quit. You know how hard it is to find a good assistant.” Bran was shaking his head again, more adamantly than before. “I rounded the corner after Taylor shouted we’d be good together, and Addi looked like she wanted the floor to swallow her. Trust me, the only thing between Ad and me is professional compatibility. If she liked me, I’d know it.”

  “Don’t be so sure. Not every woman who likes you jumps you in a closet.”

  Bran crashed into Royce and tumbled him off the steps and into the plush grass, but he was laughing when he did it. The backyard scuffle reminded Royce of the few times they’d wrestled as kids. Never fighting to win anything, always on the same side. Like now.

  Bran collapsed next to him, his back to the ground.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about CEO,” Royce said. “I should have.”

  “Yeah. Don’t do it again.”

  Royce let out a small chuckle, then fell silent. They lay side by side for a moment, their eyes on the bright blue sky overhead. Royce’s head was thumping hard enough to outrace his heart. Partially because of the eye, partially because he knew what he had to do when it came to Taylor.

  The position of CEO was rewarding, but demanding. Taylor had been in second place since he accepted the position, and he’d believed that she was okay with it. Now he wondered if that was the case. Would she eventually expect more than he had the ability to give? Did she already expect more?

  Bran was right. The Knox trio had always been a unit. He owed his brother and sister the courtesy of not tanking their family legacy. Hell, he’d swung the felling blow to keep their products out of retail establishments that might’ve contributed to a significant percentage of sales. Why? Because he’d wanted to please Taylor.

  It was time to stop playing house and focus on work—only work.

  His chest howled in protest. He wanted her. God, how he wanted her. In his bed, in his life. On his couch. On my desk. But when it came to giving her what she ultimately desired—a family—he had no idea when he’d be ready. If he’d ever be ready.

  His future was predetermined. The success of ThomKnox rested squarely on his shoulders. Eighteen-hour days wouldn’t leave much room for Taylor. She’d accepted his wacky schedule so far, but what about in six months? A year? His dream was coming true, but how long should she wait to have hers? He refused to be the man who would always be telling her, “Let’s wait another year...”

  His dreams were important, but so were hers. He and Taylor had the physical attraction on lock, but where it counted—when building a life came into the picture, how could he ask her to table her wants and needs for him?

  “I smell your brain cooking,” Bran said, hands on his own chest and eyes turned toward Royce. “Thinking hard?”

  “You might’ve knocked some sense into me.”

  “You’re welcome.” Bran stood, his lighter brown hair highlighted in a halo around his head, part of it falling over his forehead as he looked down. “You need ice.”

  “You need a haircut.”

  Bran would probably brag to everyone that he was responsible for the black eye. Just what Royce needed. Bran toed Royce in the ribs and then headed inside. Royce stayed on his back, listening as the icemaker rattled out the cubes that would soon soothe his aching head.

  He knew what he had to do when it came to Taylor.

  But he didn’t want to do it.

  Eighteen

  No time like the present.

  Royce didn’t know if flowers were the right accompaniment for what he’d come to say, but he couldn’t show up empty-handed for this conversation. He was glad Bran mentioned Taylor’s lily allergy. Royce had been sure not to include a single one of them in the bouquet.

  His eyes were grainy, his stomach upset—in part due to the decision he felt forced to make, and in part due to the coffee he’d drunk to wake up. He hadn’t slept well last night. He’d been awake turning over his and Taylor’s relationship. CEO and ThomKnox. Brannon’s advice. Gia, and even Jayson Cooper. Gia and Coop had been so in love they’d stunk with it. So in love they made everyone around them roll their eyes. Then they were over.

  In a blink.

  If a couple like Gia and Jayson could implode when they had true love on their side, what chance did Royce and Taylor have? If he didn’t end things with her now—if they continued to blend their individual dreams and it didn’t work out—Taylor would grow to resent him. Conversations about family or work would be riddled with landmines. They’d argue. Say things they didn’t mean. They’d end in a nuclear-bomb-worthy plume of smoke. He didn’t want that.

  He wanted her to have a perfect life—a future that she chose, not one that was a compromise. He cared about her—she
was practically family—and if there was a chance for her to escape unscathed, he would do what had to be done... While they could still blame proximity and timing on their attraction.

  If she was in love at all, it was with the idea of him. Not him. He knew that. But he also appreciated how the lines could blur when sexual attraction was at its peak. Those moments after an orgasm had thrummed through his body like a power line, and he’d definitely felt something intense.

  The heart was a tricky mistress, though. He couldn’t allow emotion to cloud the surmountable tasks before him. The product launch. CEO. His retiring father. His brother and his sister depended on him. ThomKnox as a whole, including Taylor, depended on him. He didn’t take that lightly.

  He knew numbers and the math didn’t work out when he added Taylor and him together. He couldn’t nurture both his job and his personal life. Not right now. Maybe in ten years, but how could he ask her to table what she wanted for a decade?

  A family. A dog. And, he guessed, a husband who came home before ten o’clock at night after a grueling day at the office.

  Obviously, he could provide financial stability and a warm bed—they sure as hell had a good time together—but juggling family responsibilities? His own father was loving, but hadn’t often been present. He’d brought Royce to work with him, and then Bran. And then Gia. One might argue they were a part of this company because ThomKnox was where their family congregated. Other than Sunday breakfasts, Royce didn’t recall a family vacation where his father hadn’t been on the phone taking business calls.

  Taylor’s father hadn’t been that way. He’d worked hard, but he’d also doted on her. Her mother had been equally enamored with her daughter and eventually left ThomKnox to be at home with her. Taylor wanted the best of both worlds—the job, the family. How had she put it? Balance.

  Not his forte.

  What if he never wanted a family? What if he was content to be CEO and run the company on his own? What if he was incapable of balance? He couldn’t ask Taylor to lead half of a life. She’d already lost her father, and Royce wouldn’t cost her her future family as well. He cared for her far too much—he could tell by the suffocating knot in his lungs. He cared for her more than he cared for himself, and that was why it was time to call this what it was.