Chapter 1237 The Forbidden Kiss
Stella's skin was porcelain-smooth, and something electric seemed to spark from Randy's fingertips as he cupped her chin. The sensation rippled through him like wildfire, racing from his touch straight to his core.
They stood impossibly close—so close that Stella could feel the rapid drumming of Randy's heartbeat matching her own frantic rhythm. She gazed at him in bewilderment, unable to understand why her pulse hammered so violently against her ribs, as if her heart might burst free at any moment.
Randy's throat tightened, as if someone had tossed a match onto dry kindling—suddenly, he was burning from the inside out. His gaze lingered on Stella's crimson lips, glossy and inviting, and a fierce, unbidden urge echoed in his mind: Kiss her.
But another voice cut through the desire, cold and unforgiving: 'No. You can't kiss Stella. She's your sister—not by blood, but your cousin nonetheless. This would be crossing a line you can never uncross. One kiss would destroy everything.'
Randy summoned every ounce of self-control he possessed, forcing himself to step back, to release her chin and put safe distance between them.
Then Stella rose on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his cheek.
Her mouth was velvet-soft and fever-warm.
Randy froze as if struck by lightning. Fireworks seemed to explode in his ears while heat pooled low in his body, his blood rushing northward until he could barely think straight. He stared at her in shock.
He thought, 'Did she feel it too? This forbidden pull between them?'
But Stella looked back at him with the innocence of untouched youth, her smile radiant and guileless, as if the kiss meant nothing more than sisterly affection.
"Randy, you looked so handsome just then!"
She couldn't explain the impulse that had driven her to kiss him—only that something about Randy in that moment had drawn her like a magnet. Her body had acted on pure instinct, and she felt no regret whatsoever.
'Cousins kiss all the time,' she reasoned. 'I like Randy, so I wanted to kiss him.'
Though she couldn't understand why her heart had raced or why her blood had felt molten in her veins, she knew with certainty that she didn't mind the sensation.
Randy laughed bitterly at himself. Of course, Stella had no other thoughts. To her, it was simply an expression of familial affection—nothing inappropriate about it. If she harbored even a fraction of his forbidden feelings, she wouldn't look at him with such transparent honesty.
Yet the spot where her lips had touched still burned with her warmth and sweetness, making his thoughts scatter like leaves in a storm.
Unable to resist, Randy reached out and ruffled her hair gently. Stella beamed up at him, and the air between them seemed to shimmer with something sweet and intoxicating, lifting his spirits despite everything.
Just as the moment reached its peak, the elevator lights flickered back to life.
Before either could react, the doors slid open and the hotel manager rushed in with two security guards, bowing apologetically.
"We're terribly sorry for the inconvenience. This malfunction was completely unacceptable, and we'll ensure it never happens again."
Stella suddenly remembered where they were. During those suspended moments, she'd been so consumed by Randy's presence that fear had vanished entirely, replaced by a honey-sweet contentment that made her wish the elevator had stayed broken just a little longer.
"No harm done," Randy managed, his breathing still uneven as he took Stella's hand and led her out.
Stella's suite was on the top floor of the Sunset Bay Grand Hotel—the sixty-eighth floor. They were currently on thirty-six.
Randy guided her to another elevator, and after what had just transpired, he fell into contemplative silence, leaning against the wall and watching the floor numbers climb with distant eyes.
Thirty-seven.
Thirty-eight.
Thirty-nine.
For once, the usually chatty Stella remained quiet beside him, lost in replaying that brief kiss. Her fingers drifted unconsciously to her lips.
She thought, 'Randy's skin had been so soft—cool and smooth like silk.'
She'd always assumed only girls were soft, that men were rough and coarse. But Randy was different—gentle and sweet-scented, almost feminine in his softness.
In her mind, she wondered if his lips were as soft as his cheek.
The thought hit her like a thunderbolt. Her eyes widened in horror as she shook her head violently.
She shook her head, banishing the thought as soon as it appeared. 'No, no, no. How could I even think such a thing? It's disgusting. Randy would be appalled.'
But why was her heart still pounding like a war drum? Why couldn't she make it stop?
Lost in her spiraling thoughts, Stella barely noticed when the elevator chimed their arrival. Randy automatically took her hand and walked her to the presidential suite.
"I'll wait until you're safely inside," he said with his usual gentle consideration.
Stella gazed at him with reluctance. "Are you going straight to bed?"
Randy nodded, checking his watch. "It's already eleven. By the time I get home, it'll be nearly midnight, and I have an early morning."
"Oh." Stella fumbled for her keycard and tapped it against the lock. The door chimed open.
As she stepped inside and Randy moved to close the door behind her, she spun around with sudden urgency. "Would you like to come in for a while?"
Randy's hand found her hair again, his touch achingly tender. "It's late, sweetheart. You should get some rest. Sleep in tomorrow—there's no rush."
His palm was warm and solid against her scalp, and Stella felt that electric current again, as if something vital was short-circuiting in her brain. Her heart hammered against her ribs while heat flooded her veins.
"Then... then maybe I should walk you to the parking garage?"
Randy couldn't help but laugh. "I bring you up, you take me down, I worry and bring you back up again—we'd be at this all night. Don't you want to sleep?"
Stella blinked owlishly at him. "I... uh..."
Her confusion was so endearing that Randy gave her hair one final, affectionate ruffle. "Good night, Stella. Sweet dreams."
Before she could respond, he closed the door firmly between them.
Stella stood frozen before the sealed entrance, both hands pressed over her racing heart. The wild rhythm beneath her palms felt dangerous, unnatural—though she couldn't begin to understand why.
On the other side of the door, Randy sagged against the frame like a man who'd barely escaped drowning. He drew one knee up, bracing his foot against the floor, and let his head fall back against the wood as he stared at the ceiling with tortured eyes.
Something was spiraling beyond his control.
Separated by mere inches of wood, both stood lost in thoughts too dangerous to voice.
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