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.”