Taboo Kisses

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Taboo Kisses

Copyright © 2013 by Helena Harker

ISBN: 978-1-61333-479-9

Cover art by Mina Carter

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

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Taboo Kisses

By

Helena Harker

Chapter One

The crimson thong and bustier came as a matched set, their satin fabric sinfully soft beneath my fingertips. Sexy. Alluring. Classy. The glossy bustier would accentuate my slim waist and do wonders for my breasts. Closing my eyes, I imagined myself wearing only lingerie and a pearl necklace as strong male hands reached behind me, unhooking the eyelets one at a time.

Unfortunately, I didn’t have anybody to undress me. Why buy a pricy ensemble that would sit in my bottom drawer and never experience a man’s touch? Maybe I should pick something more conservative, like a flesh-colored bra and panty.

“Can I help you?”

The husky voice startled me. “Ryder?” Still holding the bustier and thong, I turned around, facing his strong jaw and Adonis-like physique.

“Nice to see you again, Jacinda.”

For a moment, I didn’t have a clue what to say. As casually as possible, I placed the lingerie on the rack, wishing I’d run into him any place but here. What was Lorena’s son doing in her shop? With a nametag? Ryder had dated my daughter, Gemma, before—

A screech of twisting metal rang in my ears. The impact, the crack of my helmet against the road, an endless skid along the asphalt, and screams that shattered—

“Are you okay?” Ryder’s deep brown eyes glistened.

“Yes,” I lied, snapping out of it. I rubbed my shoulder. Although the physical pain vanished months ago, the scar remained, an unforgiving reminder of my need to hear the sharp whine of the engine and see the landscape zip by in a blur. That need killed my husband.

It’s your fault I’m gone, Jacinda
.

My blood turned cold. Maddox often whispered in my ear, as if he were standing right there next to me. Sometimes when I turned around, I expected to see his dark eyes and the stern set of his jaw.

I’d better get myself together. “When did your mother decide it made good business sense to hire male staff?”

“This is my punishment, actually.”

I smiled, a little incredulous. “You’re almost twenty-two and your mom still punishes you?” Lorena and I had met when Ryder and Gemma started dating. Sometimes we still got together and chatted over a latte at Starbucks.

He plunged his hands into his pockets. “Took her car for a spin and destroyed the front end.”

“Not the convertible.” Uh-oh. Her dream car? The one she mooned over at the dealership to the point where every salesman knew her by name?

“Yeah, the convertible.” He lowered his eyes, his gaze lingering over my low-cut gypsy top and favorite pair of skinny jeans. “She told me not to drive it, but when she went on a buyer’s trip two weeks ago…I kinda wanted to impress this girl.”

“I thought you didn’t get into trouble anymore.” During high school, he’d been into crazy stunts like car surfing and street racing. He smoked pot, painted graffiti on abandoned buildings downtown, and that was only the stuff I knew about. Lorena finally managed to get him to channel his thrill-seeking into the freestyle motocross circuit, and these days she showed off his trophies—and university transcripts full of A’s and B’s—to anybody who dropped by.

“Temporary relapse.” He shrugged.

After Gemma announced they were going out together, I found out about his background, including the fact he was four years older than she, and I flipped into panic mode. In spite of my fears, he’d given her eight months of love-struck delirium.

“I gotta earn enough money to pay for the damages,” he said. “When I talked about insurance covering it anyway, she shoved the classifieds under my nose and told me to look for a bachelor pad.”

“Honestly, Ryder, she won’t kick you to the curb as long as your grades are good. She likes that you live at home. She can keep an eye on you.”

“Just what every guy my age wants, a mom to keep him squashed under her thumb. I got a pretty cushy punishment, though.” The bold grin on his face said it all. “Who wouldn’t kill for a job like this? I get to help women pick out
lingerie
.”

No wonder Gemma fell for him. She’d raved about Ryder at fever-pitch. As a couple, she said, they were the sun and the moon, orbiting each other in a celestial dance that would last forever. Ah, teenage girls and their hyperboles about love!

To be honest, I had a little crush on him myself. Look at him. Built like a Chippendale dancer. I’d seen him in a Speedo, and he gave me hot flashes that were off the charts! When I looked at his lips, I longed to experience more of his kisses too. Because we’d already shared one. Did he remember our kiss as clearly as I did, the taboo touch of our lips, his callused palm on my skin?

“You don’t scare off the customers?” His brown hair was so disheveled I wanted to rake it into place with my fingers.

“So far it hasn’t been a problem. But Mom gave me the morning shift, just in case.”

“That’s when I come here, because I know it’s quiet. I’d shop online, but it’s impossible to buy a bra unless you try it first. When you’re five foot ten, nothing you buy over the Internet ever fits worth a damn, especially when it claims to be one-size-fits-all.”

“Women come in to chat with me sometimes.”

“I can imagine.” Boy, could I ever. “Do they buy stuff?”

“More than you’d think.” His eyes crinkled at the corners. “I’m allowed to offer a ten percent discount as an incentive, so I made an announcement in front of my biology class last week. A lot of girls dropped in. Mom was impressed. She thought standing in the middle of thigh-highs and garter belts would be embarrassing for me. She was inspired by those reality shows where judges sentence criminals to humiliation-based punishments. Like making shoplifters stand outside stores with big signs that say
I’m a thief
.”

“Something tells me you’re going to pay off the damages a lot faster than Lorena expects.”

“You can help me out by buying the bustier,” he suggested, a wicked glint in his eye. “It’ll look gorgeous on a woman with your figure.”

Oh yes, toss compliments at me left and right. Excellent sales tactic, you naughty boy
.

When he’d pick up Gemma for a date and she’d be upstairs putting the final touches on her make-up, we’d chat about his latest airborne acrobatics. One day he arrived, still sky-high on adrenaline, announcing that he’d completed his first motocross back flip. These days, I envied risk-takers who bit large chunks out of life and swallowed them whole. I used to be one of those people. In my early twenties, I’d piloted gliders, soaring silently through the skies, rising on thermals like a hawk. Then I took up sky-diving, plummeting like a stone at over a hundred miles an hour. When that got old I switched to hang-gliding, where I got to experience the thrill of leaping off a cliff.

In my past life, I was a lot like Ryder.

“Do you want to try it? It’ll look beautiful on you.”

I barely heard what he said. Oh, the bustier. “Will it?”

“Guaranteed. If it’ll help,” he suggested, his voice low and rough, “I’ll gladly give you my opinion.”

I heard his words, but it took a while for them to register. He wanted to see me in lingerie. How did that make me feel? Off-balance. Confused. Eager. Aroused. A little numb.

Ryder removed the bustier and thong from the rack. “I’ll show you to a changing room. Follow me, please.”

My legs moved with a mind of their own, past rows of schoolgirl outfits, lace teddies, and tables covered in sexy satin panties. God, what would Lorena say? And Gemma? And Maddox? Oh, Maddox.

Sailing through the air, the sky and asphalt blurring as I hit the ground, tumbling and tumbling, skidding to a stop in the grass, my entire body ablaze with pain.

What would Maddox say if he could see me heading to a changing room with the hot young stud who used to date our daughter?

What are you doing, Jacinda
?
Think this through
.

Oh God. His voice was so clear. I lost my footing and grabbed on to a rack of pantyhose. Ryder took hold of my arm.

“Clumsy me,” I muttered.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” The same concerned expression crossed his face. “Mom told me you’re still distracted, still thinking about…the accident.”

“I am.” There. I admitted it. After a year, most women would have started to heal. Not me. And I never would. Because I didn’t deserve it. “Flashbacks. They won’t go away.” Did he understand? Or did I sound totally off-kilter?

Ryder paused and licked his lips. He ran his fingers through his already messed up hair.

“I don’t know what to say to make it better.” Ryder’s hand slid down my bare arm. “If you ever want to talk, I’ll listen. Just listen. It’s like something’s festering inside you.”

And it’s poisoning what’s left of my soul
.

“I remember when Maddox told me you were worried about my past. He said I better be good to Gemma, or else I’d have to answer to you. You were the tiger in the family, and he was the easygoing one.”

Ryder’s worried expression nudged a smile out of me. “Yeah, Maddox was the sweet one. He tweezed splinters from my finger, got all my flowerbeds ready for planting, because I love flowers, but I hate getting dirt under my fingernails. I was the voice of authority.”

“Gemma kinda mentioned that.” He said it knowingly, with a nod, it as if he knew a whole lot more of my secrets.

The things Gemma must have told him! I bit my lip, and heat rushed to my cheeks.

“Do I put this away?” He held up the shimmering satin underwear. “Or on layaway if you prefer?”

“No. I’ll take you up on your offer.”
Maddox, please understand
. I waited for an answer. None came.

“When you dropped Gemma off after your first date, Maddox and I were watching from the window.”

Ryder’s jaw dropped into a shocked
uh-oh
. I smiled at the memory. He’d wrapped one arm around her waist—no groping—and tenderly tipped her chin until their lips met. Behind me, Maddox had peered intently through the curtains and pressed his body against mine.

“You kissed her like the hero in a romance novel,” I said.

At the word
kiss
, Ryder’s gaze intensified. His pupils widened, and our eyes locked. I knew exactly what he was thinking. Well, I knew what I was thinking, anyway.

Last year. I had been lounging by our in-ground pool with a vodka cooler, still in my bikini. It must have been about nine, and the sun was sinking into the clouds, painting them shades of amber, tangerine, and a mesmerizing purple. As usual, Gemma couldn’t decide which outfit to wear, so Ryder joined me out back. Flustered that I couldn’t find my wrap, I got up, aware that I was almost naked, and he was devouring me with his eyes. He glanced at the window—no one could see us from this vantage point—and took two quick steps toward me.