She checked to see if anyone noticed. Everyone watched the screen while the voice-over described the stunning new features of the T13. She should be watching, too, but she couldn’t concentrate on anything save Royce’s hand, now stroking her leg.
He brushed her knee, then higher. The rhythm he set—slow, firm, a whisper of a touch and then a gentle squeeze—was driving her wild. She leaned forward and pretended to write on the notebook in front of her.
The video reached its crescendo as his warm hand slipped beneath her skirt and he gripped her inner thigh firmly. She wouldn’t dare look at him. Wouldn’t show him the desire in her eyes, igniting her every limb.
Evidently he didn’t need the encouragement. He tickled her knee one last time before pulling his hand away. In the dim light, he raised his eyebrows as if to say Your turn.
He was challenging her?
Not wise, Knox.
After a furtive glance around the room, she slid her palm over his thigh and higher. He jerked in his seat, feigning a cough while he shifted in his chair. Her Cheshire smile would’ve been obvious if anyone was looking at her, but they weren’t. She palmed Royce’s crotch and met his dark gaze in the darker room. His intense expression was highlighted by the glow of the screen. They locked eyes for a beat, then two, before she swept her hand from his hardening cock.
She exhaled slowly, her heart racing, her body warm and ready. Where was a closet when you needed one? She wanted nothing more than to grab him by the ears and kiss him until both of them were gasping for breath or tearing at each other’s clothes. Whichever came first.
Applause jolted her out of her stupor, and the lights slowly rose. Royce looked equally shell-shocked, though a better word might be horny.
“Thoughts?” Jack asked the room before taking his chair next to Royce. “Let’s start with you, CEO.”
Royce, scrumptiously flustered, straightened his bow tie. “I’m intrigued. At first I thought it wasn’t for me. A version of this product has been around for years and I’ve never once been tempted. But this tease—” He gestured to the screen, but Taylor knew exactly what—who—he was talking about. “I’ve changed my mind. It’s too sexy to ignore. It’s unforgettable. I want more.” He slanted a heated look at her. “What about you, COO?”
She ignored the warmth of her cheeks and addressed him directly. “I’ve had my eye on this one for a while. I was waiting for the right moment to bring it into my life. It could be the game changer I didn’t know I was looking for.”
The comments continued around the room. Her eyes watched her coworkers but her body was focused on only one person. The man she couldn’t keep her head or hands off—the man she didn’t want to keep her hands off any longer... Damn the consequences.
* * *
The executive team filed out of the conference room, Royce in the lead. He paused to open the door for Taylor, who put extra wiggle in her walk for his benefit. His eyes were glued to her ass, tucked neatly into a navy blue dress. Her tall red high heels were distracting to the nth degree.
Royce waited at the door watching everyone leave. Brannon hung back, as did Jack.
Gia turned to Royce, her attitude set to stun. “Are you guys over your snit?”
Thinking she was referring to him and Taylor, he wisely didn’t speak.
“Subtle, Gia,” Brannon said. “What’d you expect me to do? Overturn the conference table?”
Ah. She was referring to the heated discussion between Jack, Bran and Royce earlier this week in Royce’s office.
“We have a company to run, boys,” she said to her brothers. To Dad, she said, “Except for you. Aren’t you retired?”
“Yes, and none of this is my problem.” He gestured to his sons before leaving the room. “These two need to box it out.”
Royce grunted. He and Brannon had argued over the years but it’d never resulted in a physical altercation.
“If you’ll excuse me. Presidential duties await.” Bran shouldered past them and stalked toward his office, his walk tall and his shoulders back.
They’d be okay. Probably.
The complaint wasn’t that Royce had inherited CEO but that he’d kept learning of it a secret. Instead of blaming Dad for the subterfuge, his siblings were content to pin it on Royce. Blame must’ve come with the new title.
“And you.” Gia stabbed Royce with one finger. “Taylor? Were you going to tell me?”
He made sure no one was eavesdropping before responding, his voice low. “No. I don’t normally consult you about the women in my bed.”
Taylor had told Gia after all. But they were close. It was bound to come out.
“Plus it was only the one time.” Though today had been an invitation for more.
His sister offered a saccharine smile. “If you two didn’t think we picked up on your stripping each other with your eyes in that meeting, you really don’t have a clue.”
“It’s unwise. We’re CEO and COO. The board—”
“The board can kiss my ass,” she said. “This is our company. The Knoxes. The Thompsons. If you’re happy—and you can make her happy—who the hell cares what anyone thinks?”
It was as good as having her blessing. He’d had good reasons to be careful, but Gia was right. Who the hell cared what anyone thought?
“You’re thinking about it, and I don’t want to be around while that happens. Later, bro.” Gia headed to the elevator, waving without turning around.
When Royce entered his office, Taylor Thompson was sitting primly on the edge of his desk, her long legs crossed, one red stiletto wiggling in the air. Her devil-may-care smile paired with red lipstick was enough to send him falling at her feet and selling his very soul for one more kiss. One more touch. One more chance to blow her mind.
He wasn’t typically led around by his pecker, but here they were. He’d known what he was doing in that meeting. Despite the excuses he gave Gia, the decision to seduce Taylor was cemented in his mind.
“What have we here?” He closed the door behind him, noticing the shades had been pulled. He pushed the lock on the doorknob. It engaged with an audible click.
“Your power’s gone to my head.” She was still wiggling that foot. He caught her calf in one palm and smoothed his hand over the muscle and down, down, until he pulled her shoe off and dropped it on the floor.
“Same.” Repeating the action with her other foot, he said, “You told Gia.”
“I...did,” she admitted.
“I’m beginning to wonder if I don’t care what anyone thinks.”
“You cared enough to lock that door.” Her cocked eyebrow was a challenge. He ended the stance with his lips on hers, drinking her in. His thirst had been unquenchable this week. When he’d seen her in the hallways talking with Bran or Addison, he’d felt a pinch in his chest he’d been sure was a warning to stay away. But when the lights went down in the meeting he recognized it for what it was.
Want.
A truckload of it.
Touching her hadn’t relieved the urge. No. Touching her had been a lit match set to the driest kindling. He’d gone up in smoke and it’d taken everything in him not to pleasure her right there in the damn meeting, teasing her folds with his fingers until his lips could finish the job.
She unbuttoned his shirt, leaving his bow tie knotted at his collar and kissing his bare chest. He caught her head, enjoying the heat of her mouth on his skin.
One night hadn’t been enough.
There was no erasing kisses that might as well have been burned into his flesh. She’d consumed him that night, reminding him what real passion felt like—not appreciation, not accomplishment, but real passion for another human being. The gut-shaking, teeth-rattling need to bury himself to the hilt, growling her name as he guided her to the pinnacle.
In a matter of seconds, he had her dress unzipped, his hands
on her bare breasts, her bra tossed over his computer screen. She returned the favor by opening his pants and gripping his hard-as-steel cock.
She continued what he started in that meeting and he was going to finish it.
Right now.
He dragged his office chair to the side of the desk where she perched. He sat and lowered the chair to the lowest possible height, which brought him eye level with her delicious center.
“What are you doing?” Her voice held jittery notes of excitement.
“Three guesses,” he said before pulling off her underwear—a red thong, God help him.
Legs parted, she dropped back onto her elbows and rested her calves on his shoulders. Giving his neglected member a squeeze, he promised to take care of it later. After he kissed his way along Taylor’s thighs until he reached the Promised Land.
Oh hell yes.
Not only did she taste as incredible as he’d imagined, but her citrusy smell surrounded him. Her thighs clamped around his ears rendered him deaf save for the sound of her fingers raking through his hair and her sultry moans making a new home in his chest.
He used everything he’d learned about women to please her, sweeping his tongue left and right, up and down, flicking fast and laying it flat and then going slow. As a result, his lemon-scented vixen was having trouble keeping quiet, which made him grin in arrogant male pride.
“How you doin’ up there?” he paused to ask but didn’t wait for her to answer. Instead he set the pace with his tongue as he tugged her plush hips forward on the desk. He paused only briefly. To say: “Come for me, Taylor.”
He wasn’t sure if the request worked, but her orgasm followed. Then he was tasting her essence, luxuriating in her sighs of pleasure. She lost her place, writhing and sweeping the phone off the desk. It landed with a clatter that still didn’t pull her from her bliss. Another wave hit and she clutched a paper in her hands, crumpling it as her other hand pushed his calculator and his glasses case to the floor.
He eased his mouth away, kissing his way down her legs and lingering at the back of one of her knees. He kissed along her calf and down to her feet, where he gave her big toe a playful lick.
When she sat up her blond hair was wild, her eyes wilder. He was enamored by the sheer wonder of her.
She was as unpredictable as a lightning storm and twice as dangerous. And here he was out in an open field, umbrella held high. With her, he never knew where he was headed. He’d left the black-and-white world of his making and was now wandering in the haze-gray fog of hers.
But there was no erasing what was happening between them. They were best when they were naked together. Even with no time or inclination for a serious relationship, he recognized his physical need for her. It was undeniable. She was undeniable.
The tent building behind his boxer briefs as she lowered to her knees in front of him was only partial proof. He rested a hand on her head and she slicked his length and took him into her mouth.
That genie he’d sworn to stuff back into the bottle? Yeah, that wasn’t happening. Not when Taylor made his pulse race and his mind blank. Not when she made everything, at least in this moment, feel undeniably, inexplicably right.
Fifteen
Taylor always wanted a fireplace in the bedroom, but her apartment didn’t have that particular feature. Nor did it have stone floors, Tuscan-style decor or a California king-size bed.
Royce’s house did.
She stretched beneath the downy bedding, gold and red, and watched the flames. After another week of barely containing themselves at work, tonight made the third—no, wait, fourth—night they’d given in to what they both wanted. He’d come to her house yesterday with takeout. They ate after they’d satisfied another hunger: the one for each other. She’d enjoyed five-star cuisine naked and while lounging in front of the television.
Tonight wasn’t dissimilar, though they ate dinner first—and in public—before returning to Royce’s house and promptly shedding their clothing. She’d had no idea how domestic he was, in spite of knowing him half her life. But since hanging out with him in his house and hers, she’d seen him cook—scrambled eggs counted—tidy up and, like now, deliver drinks.
He entered the room with a tray holding a bottle of scotch and two glasses. She knew the brand. It was her father’s favorite when he was alive.
“I had my first taste of scotch with your dad.” Royce placed the tray between them on the wide bed. He wore nothing but black boxer briefs, which had officially stolen the number one spot as her favorite outfit on him. The suit and bow tie combo had been her favorite for years, but oh, how wrong she’d been.
“I was eighteen. Just graduated high school.” He handed her a lowball. A few inches of brown liquid surrounded a square ice cube that was almost the same size as the glass. “And a cigar.”
“Sounds like Dad.”
“Charlie pulled me aside and said, ‘Now that you’re a man, you should drink and smoke like one.’” Royce’s smile was warm. “Never took to the cigars. But I do like the drink. The smoky, complicated nature of it.”
“Sounds like you,” she teased.
“I thought we’d toast to him.”
Her eyes misted over. “You know.”
“That today is his birthday? Yes. I know.”
“I hate it. Scotch.” She sat up, awkwardly covering her naked breasts with the blanket while trying not to spill the drink. “But I’ll have it in Dad’s honor.”
Her nose wrinkled as the liquid streamed down her throat in a trail of fire.
“Ugh. Still terrible,” she wheezed. She’d never liked scotch, though she tried to build up a tolerance after her father passed. She’d wanted to feel closer to him and thought that might suffice. No such luck.
“Here.” She offered her glass to Royce. “You drink it.”
“It’s there. The appreciation for it. Go slow. Let it open up. Just take it a sip at a time.”
His advice was a good metaphor for them. The appreciation for Royce had been one taste at a time. He’d been slow to open up, too. That first all-in kiss had rocked her world—it was too much at once. After another “sip” of him, he’d easily become an addiction.
They’d given in to the “more” between them. First with sex in his office, then this week where they were behaving like a... Dare she say it? Couple.
There was no bridge being burned if they didn’t work out. He would return to work as usual and she would make herself forget that the best sex of her life was courtesy of the man she worked closely with every day.
Then again, if things worked out...
The thought made her smile. Her next sip of scotch went down easier than the first.
“The ice helps.” Royce was lounging on the padded headboard, a pillow behind his back. He watched the fire but she couldn’t take her eyes off his face. The orange glow highlighting a strong, straight nose and angled jaw. The kissable firmness of his lips, and his regal eyebrows.
“Dad trusted me to follow in his footsteps,” she said. “My being COO is a tribute to him in a lot of ways.”
“But?” Royce tilted his head, reading her tone correctly.
“But, I also wanted a family. My mother never believed that work and family can coexist.”
His expression blanked, but he kept the conversation going. “What do you think?”
“I believe I can have it all.” She watched her drink, not wanting him to think she was talking about him when she added, “A husband. A family. A career. But I worry about balance. About one area suffering while the other excels.”
“Balance is hard,” he agreed in the same noncommittal tone.
“My father was all about his career, but still made time for me. He took me to work with him on more than one occasion.”
“I remember.”
“You do?” She recalled seeing Royc
e at ThomKnox fresh out of college, when she was a teenager. She had no idea he’d noticed her beyond the moment he caught her in his arms. And then she’d been pretty sure it hadn’t registered as an event worth remembering to him.
“He told me to stay away from you,” Royce said now.
“Dad?” She’d been lectured but had no idea that he’d gone to Royce, too. “Wow. That’s embarrassing.”
“It was necessary.” He raked his eyes over her body, then touched a nipple that peeked out from the sheet. “Look where we’ve ended up.”
She had to smile, though the news that he was told to stay away from her rocked her where she sat. “My father had a lot of nerve.”
“He loved you.”
“He was ten years older than my mom, did you know that? And they were great together. Why didn’t he think I could handle a relationship with you?” She sensed she was treading on sacred ground. That her father’s reasons had been buried with him.
Royce didn’t seem to think so. “If I had to guess, I’d say it was stereotypical fatherly protection. He was my age once, and had your mother in his sights. Do you believe he was always the consummate gentleman?”
“Ew.” But she had to laugh. Her parents had been very much in love, and Deena was gorgeous. No doubt her father’s thoughts about her were less than wholesome. “He liked Brannon for me.”
“A safer choice.”
She could hear the pride in his voice at being the forbidden choice. Bran and Taylor had never had the kind of explosive attraction that Royce and Taylor had.
“Don’t be so hard on him,” Royce told her. “Your father couldn’t bear the idea of you growing up. He could have acted out of self-preservation that had nothing to do with us. God knows my father’s done that.”
“Jack knows how to draw attention, that’s for sure.”
Royce watched the fire, silent.
His Forbidden Kiss Page 10
