Sweetest Taboo Read online

  "What you've survived. The man you've become. I watched the way you ran your personal life--a different woman in your bed each night. I kept expecting you to crash and burn. Drugs. Women. Money. Frivolity. All of it. Too much of it."

  Dallas had no idea where his father was going with this, but he stayed quiet. Waiting. Hopeful.

  "I told you at your great-grandfather's birthday party that I was proud of you, and I meant it. And even later--when all the shit hit the fan with you and your sister--you never let your personal life spill over onto the business. You never truly went off the rails, and god knows you had reason to."

  He shook his head as if in disbelief. "Everything you went through as a young man. Who could have blamed you if you'd turned to drugs? Alcohol?"

  "I have my share of issues," Dallas said. "For that matter, so does Jane."

  Eli nodded. "I know. And I know I didn't help. That I didn't handle it well afterward. Frankly, it's a testament to your strength of character that you became the man you are."

  "Thank you," Dallas said, and he meant it. But he still wasn't sure where his father was going with this. And all he could do was pray that somewhere at the end of this speech, his father was going to tell Dallas that he'd changed his mind. That he was going to rescind the adoption.

  "And I'm proud that you're my son," Eli continued, and with the inclusion of that one little word, hope faded. "Because you are my son. And Jane is my daughter. And nothing will ever change that."

  And there it was. The light snuffed out. Hope killed.

  His family destroyed. Because Dallas wasn't going to sacrifice his and Jane's love at the altar of their father's pride. He'd hire his own attorneys. He'd fight the battle, but even though he was now an adult, without Eli's consent, the odds of the judge rescinding the adoption were slim. There just wasn't much precedent, and courts were loath to interfere with family relationships unless there was full consent on all sides.

  And even if he won, the victory would be hollow by its very nature. Because whatever threads of family still remained would be completely and finally destroyed.

  At the thought, Dallas's heart constricted. He wanted to shake Eli, to make him understand. He wanted to fight, dammit. But how did he fight perception and pride? How did he open his father's eyes?

  Dallas drew a deep breath and hoped that when he spoke his voice wouldn't be stained by anger and disappointment. "I'm happy I'm not a disappointment to you, sir," he said. "But maybe we'd all be better off if I was."

  Eli's brows rose, and then, unexpectedly, he burst out laughing. "Why? Because then I'd want to get rid of you? Not only cut you off financially, but trim your branch from the family tree?"

  "Well, actually, yes." Dallas frowned. Why the hell was that funny?

  "You think I don't understand how you feel about Jane, and maybe you were right. Back then. But you're not right anymore." He glanced toward Lisa, his chest rising and falling with a deep sigh. "I know what it's like to love someone. And I'm terrified that I'm going to know soon what it's like to lose them."

  He shifted, turning his face away as he roughly wiped his eyes. "I don't want my children to feel that way. Not ever."

  Slowly, he turned to face Dallas. "I'll file for the rescission. More than that, I'll hire the best goddamn attorneys on this planet to make it happen. And when it's over, I'll give her away to you at the altar. I'll do all that," he said as Dallas fought his own tears, "but at the end of the day, you will still be my son. It just won't say so on a piece of paper. Deal?"

  Tears welled in Dallas's eyes, and his throat was thick when he extended his hand to the man who would always be his one true dad. "Deal," he said.

  And as he turned to look at his mother once more, he thought that maybe--maybe--he saw a hint of a smile.

  Christmas Eve...

  I wake to the feather-soft sweetness of Dallas's kisses on my cheek, my neck, the curve of my shoulder. And down, and down, and down.

  When his body is between my legs and his tongue teases my belly button, I slide my fingers into his hair.

  "Well, good morning," he says, peering up at me with heated eyes and an innocent grin. "Did I wake you?"

  "Mmm. I was having the most wonderful dream. This incredibly sexy man was kissing my entire body. My face, my neck, my breasts. And then he went lower and lower, and his tongue was like magic. He held me down and just kept teasing and sucking until I thought I was going to burst into flames right in his arms."

  "I think I'm jealous," he says. "Who was this guy?"

  "Oh, just some man I'm going to marry."

  "Are you? Well, in that case I have a little present for the bride."

  I would answer him, but I can't because I'm gasping with pleasure from the way he's lowered his mouth to my pussy. The way he's sucking hard on my clit. He's holding my thighs wide apart, and I'm splayed out and exposed, and he's holding me so firm that I can't move or squirm or otherwise escape the assault.

  I can do nothing but endure the wild pleasure of his relentless assault, and I tilt my head back, my hands fisted in the sheets as Dallas's tongue conducts a symphony on my body, his finger playing me like a fine instrument as well. It's too much--too wild, too intense--and I feel the shock of sensation building in me, starting as a low, electrical buzz in my inner thigh and then growing more and more vibrant until I lose all control over my body, and my hips are bucking and I'm crying out, calling Dallas's name and begging him to stop--then begging him to never, ever stop.

  He tightens his grip on my legs and holds me in place, sucking and teasing and forcing me to ride it out until I'm so shattered that my entire body is shaking and I'm gasping for air.

  "Wow," I say as I come down off a sexual high. "My last orgasm as a single woman. That was amazing."

  "I'm all about the personal service." He slides up my body and kisses me as I lay back in a blissful haze.

  "Wow," I repeat. "I could stay here all day."

  "You better not," he says. "You're expected at a wedding in just a few hours."

  I prop myself up on my elbow. "It's bad luck to see a bride on her wedding day. I think you've just doomed us."

  "That's in her wedding dress. Good thing for us you're naked. But I am leaving. Dad and I are buying breakfast for the guys, then heading back here to get dressed. Mom's meeting you here in an hour, right?"

  I glance at the clock, and then nod. "Stacey, too. Brody's dropping her off and then joining you."

  We're in the Meadow Lane house--the house in which I spent so much of my childhood. The house that is going to be ours again as soon as Dallas and I are married. Daddy's calling it a wedding present, but Mom tells me it's really just a token. "Your father's been in a present-buying mood lately," she says. "It seems like every day he's taking me on a trip or buying me diamonds. I love it, but I really don't get it."

  I do. He almost lost her. And even though she's fully recovered, he doesn't ever want to take her for granted again. And with my dad, that translates to showering her with gifts.

  Dallas and I have been the recipients of his largesse as well, and though Dad hasn't said so, we both know that it's his way of apologizing. I think the fact that the Manhattan townhouse has been restored to me was apology enough, but that doesn't mean I'll turn down anything else he wants to sign over to us.

  Even though we have the townhouse back, I expect we'll be living primarily in the Hamptons. After all, Deliverance is set up again in the basement.

  After a long discussion with the team, Dallas decided to bring our parents into the loop, and not only is Daddy proud of what Dallas is doing, but he's perfectly content to have his son back on the Sykes payroll, knowing full well the job is mostly camouflage.

  I stay in bed for another half hour after Dallas leaves, too spent to move. Then I get up and shower and put on a fluffy robe before going into the third-floor den that has been set up as a dressing room. My mom and Stacey are there, along with a girl to do my hair and makeup. It seems a bit like ov
erkill considering we've invited less than thirty people to our wedding. But at the same time, this wedding is an event that I never dreamed would happen, and I intend to celebrate the reality of it by going into full-on princess mode.

  Once I'm primped and powdered and combed and brushed to within an inch of my life, I let the women help me get dressed, a process which gives me new understanding of why women needed ladies' maids back in the day. The top of the dress is essentially a beaded corset that cinches tight at my waist and perks up my breasts. It's elegant and shows off my cleavage and shoulders.

  But it's the skirt that is the showstopper. Beautifully hand embroidered with a long, removable train, the skirt sits on a wide hoop, making my waist look even smaller and giving me an overall delicate look. A princess look.

  I examine myself in the mirror and know that Dallas is going to love it.

  "You look beautiful," Mom says, coming up behind me. She sniffles and I hold up a hand.

  "No! No crying or I'll start. And I can't. I'll smear my makeup."

  "Okay," she says. "I'll cry when you're walking down the aisle."

  "Deal," I say, as Stacey tells us that we need to hurry because they're ready for me.

  The wedding is going to be performed in the main hall, which has been filled with flowers and temporary chairs, and we hurry to where I'm meeting my dad at the top of the stairs. We're descending together, and then proceeding down the aisle to where Dallas waits by the French doors, a stunning view of the pool behind him.

  Daddy looks up as I approach, his eyes filled with such pride I almost tear up again.

  "I'll tell you what I told Mom," I say. "Don't make me cry."

  "No promises," he says, then kisses me on the cheek. "You look beautiful. I'm so proud of you."

  We stand there alone--I didn't want attendants--and just as the first strains of music rise, my father turns to me. "You never did tell me what you want for Christmas tomorrow."

  It's so absurd that I laugh.

  "Trust me, Daddy," I say, "you already gave me and Dallas the best present of all."

  I hear our cue, and I take my father's arm.

  And then I finally walk down the stairs and my father escorts me to Dallas, then gives me away to the man I've loved my whole life. The man who was once my brother.

  The man who is my best friend.

  And who, in just a few minutes, will be my husband.

  By J. Kenner

  THE STARK TRILOGY

  Release Me Claim Me Complete Me

  STARK EVER AFTER NOVELLAS

  Take Me

  Have Me

  Play My Game Seduce Me Unwrap Me Deepest Kiss

  STARK INTERNATIONAL NOVELS

  THE JACKSON STEELE TRILOGY

  Say My Name On My Knees Under My Skin

  THE DIRTIEST TRILOGY

  Dirtiest Secret Hottest Mess Sweetest Taboo

  MOST WANTED SERIES

  Wanted

  Heated

  Ignited

  PHOTO: KATHY WHITTAKER PHOTOGRAPHY

  J. KENNER (aka Julie Kenner) is the New York Times, USA Today, Publishers Weekly, Wall Street Journal, and #1 international bestselling author of over seventy novels, novellas, and short stories.

  Though known primarily for her award-winning and international bestselling erotic romances (including the Stark, Stark International, Dirtiest, and Most Wanted series) that have reached as high as #2 on the New York Times bestseller list, Kenner has been writing full-time for over a decade in a variety of genres, including paranormal and contemporary romance, "chicklit" suspense, urban fantasy, and paranormal mommy lit.

  Kenner has been praised by Publishers Weekly as an author with a "flair for dialogue and eccentric characterizations" and by RT Book Reviews for having "cornered the market on sinfully attractive, dominant antiheroes and the women who swoon for them." A four-time finalist for Romance Writers of America's prestigious RITA award, Kenner took home the first RITA trophy awarded in the category of erotic romance in 2014 for her novel Claim Me (book 2 of her Stark Trilogy).

  Her books have sold well over a million copies and are published in over twenty countries.

  jkenner.com

  Facebook.com/ jkennerbooks

  @juliekenner

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