Chemistry: An Everyday Heroes World Novel (The Everyday Heroes World)

by J. P. Nicholas

  “Oh, look at your shirt. It’s all ruined.” After I help him up, I hit the button on the counter to turn the camera off and brush the concoction out of his eyes, and he darts his tongue out to lick his lips.

  “Delicious,” he states, his eyes heated. “What did I just ruin?”

  “You didn’t ruin anything. I did by kicking my damn heels off.” I tug at his shirt collar. “Take this off.”

  He quirks a brow and smirks salaciously. “So, this is what does it for ya, huh? You like your men smothered in chocolate?”

  I smack his shoulder and scoff. “Shut up. I want to wash it before the stain sets. You’re more than welcome to use the shower upstairs.”

  He drags his hungry gaze down my body and back up to my eyes. I swallow hard as the inferno ignites inside my bloodstream.

  “Only if you join me,” he teases with a wink.

  “Not going to happen,” I claim, needing to reassure myself more than him. The thought of Lucas being naked in my shower upstairs is very tempting. Too tempting for my own good.

  He eyes the camera over my shoulder. “Admit it; this was all some kind of ploy just to get me naked.”

  I roll my eyes. “Please, don’t flatter yourself. If I wanted to get you naked, I wouldn’t have to go to all this trouble.”

  “Yeah? What would you have to do then?” I know he’s baiting me. And as tempting as it is not to back down from his challenge, I have to for the sake of my own sanity.

  “So, what are you teaching Kyle about today?” I ask, desperate to change the topic before we cross the line to the place of no return.

  “The periodic table.” I watch as his hazel eyes bolt from me to the island and back to me again. He takes a step forward, crowding me. The scent of the uncooked brownie batter fills my nostrils. Leaning down, Lucas brings his mouth to the shell of my ear. My body tingles as the torridity of his breath warms the right side of my face. For a brief moment, I think he’s going to nip at it, but he doesn’t. Instead, he brings his voice to a low rasp. “I could really see myself periodically doing you on a table.”

  That is by far a much sexier science pun than the last one. And I approve of it wholeheartedly. Hell, I want to partake in it over and over again. But I won’t. I can’t. So, I shan’t.

  It takes every fiber of my being to swallow down the words I want to shout from the rooftop. Well then…what are you waiting for? But I must be strong. I cannot cave and give in to my urges. The backlash on Kyle is far too great of a risk for when shit hits the fan, and Lucas ultimately walks away like the rest of them. Still, one night of reckless fun with Lucas is certainly high on my bucket list. Perhaps one day, I’ll be able to scratch this itch. But that day is not going to be today.

  I pat his chest. “Why don’t you just settle for letting me wash this shirt of yours?”

  He smiles boyishly as if he didn’t just proposition me a minute earlier. “That can be arranged.”

  It would probably be in my best interest to look away. To avert my gaze. To turn around. To do anything at all! But evidently, I’m a glutton for punishment because I decide to torture myself as I watch his nimble fingers flick open each and every button of his shirt. I watch with bated breath as the cotton fabric parts directly down the middle, exposing his flesh to my wide-eyed gander. I ball my hands into fists at my side to prevent myself from tracing each and every defined line of muscle on his body. From his pecs to each ridge of his eight pack, to the deep-set V of his hips, each muscle is more exquisite than the last. Hell, I even love the dark smattering of hair that trails down from his navel and disappears under the black waistband of his Calvins.

  I force myself to look up at his face as he shrugs the remaining fabric off his shoulders and catches it before it passes his waist on its way to the ground. He hands it out to me. I take it.

  “Thank you, Chloe. I appreciate it.”

  “No problem. It’s the least I can do since I’m the reason you’re wearing this mess.” I take off my apron and shove it at him. For my own sanity and the sake of health codes, he has to cover himself up, so I don’t take him up on his offer to periodically do me on the table. “Here. You can wear this and help me bake in the meantime.”

  “What about tutoring?”

  “You can pick up right where you left off when your shirt is washed and on your shoulders again. Sound good?”

  He gives me a thumbs up.

  “Sounds like a plan.” He rubs his hands together. “So…what are we baking today?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Lucas

  Watching Chloe watch me strip off my shirt was fucking hot. Too damn hot. I swear I have never been so hard in my entire life. When her lips parted slightly, and her tongue wet her bottom lip, my dick throbbed so painfully against the fly of my jeans that I thought I was going to see stars. I don’t even think she was aware she was doing it, and that makes it abundantly more adorable.

  I know I shouldn’t want her this much. She’s one of my student’s parents, for fuck’s sake! The same student I am now tutoring twice a week. I shouldn’t go anywhere near her. Technically, I don’t need to. But I want to. Oh, how I fucking want to.

  And it’s much more than a physical urge I feel for her—although that’s ever-present and never going away, trust me. Sure, I want her to touch every inch of me. I want her soft body pressing up against my hard one as she grinds her sex against mine. But it’s so much more than that. I crave our conversations. The way this incredible and independent woman isn’t afraid to put me in my place. How she just speaks her mind, not caring if it’s appropriate or embarrassing.

  I adore the way we flirt with reckless abandon. It’s as if our mouths aren’t aware of the numerous reasons why we shouldn’t be together. They just throw caution to the wind, every quip, tease, and smile trickled with salaciousness.

  As much as I desire the push and pull of us, I can tell that she’s guarded. I can see it in the way she holds herself whenever I get close to her. The way she’s constantly thinking about her next move, her green eyes calculating her actions two steps in advance—a deep contrast to my just do what feels natural, go with the flow attitude. I’m not sure who has hurt her in the past, but I do know two things. One, if I ever see that motherfucker, I will end him for making her doubt her own self-worth. And two, as much as I like to take control, I will relinquish it all to her. I’ve made my feelings for her and my intentions exceedingly clear. If she decides that she wants to explore this intense connection between us further…she must make the next move.

  As I finish packing up my textbooks, lessons, and additional assignments, I peruse the bakery in search of Chloe to say goodbye. She’s nowhere to be found. I glance at the staircase and release a shaky breath. Do I go upstairs just to find her and say goodbye? Or is that somewhat trespassing?

  My gut is telling me to go upstairs. The gentleman inside me knows it is rude to leave without saying goodbye. But my brain is telling me just to leave, so I don’t break any more boundaries than we already did today. Sure, she saw me half-naked without my shirt on…is that really a social crime? We didn’t do anything. Except you said you wanted to do her periodically on the table, my brain interjects, reminding me of just how out of control my mouth is whenever I’m around her.

  He’s right; I shouldn’t go upstairs. That leads to her apartment. One I haven’t been invited to. I understand that completely, yet I can’t will my feet to take me toward the bakery’s front door. I stare at the staircase as it beckons me to come closer.

  “Fuck it,” I grumble under my breath, taking my first step toward what could be an immensely regretful decision on my part.

  I take my time climbing each step, waiting for my brain to talk some sense into me. If it is, I can’t hear it over the quickening staccato rhythm of my heartbeat thumping in my ears. When I reach the top landing, I’m met with a single French door. It’s trimmed white and flanked with ten equal-sized rectangle glass sections, leaving nothing to the imagination as
to what’s on the other side.

  Sucking in a sharp breath, I try my luck and jostle the door handle. When it wiggles freely, I decide not to open it. It’s probably best that I knock first. That would be the proper thing to do. Reaching upward, I rap my knuckles against the glass.

  I stifle back a laugh when I see Kyle’s head pop out from the doorframe of what I assume is his bedroom. Kyle smiles when he realizes it’s me and waves me in. I sigh a breath of relief as I step inside their apartment for the first time.

  “Hey, Kyle, where’s your mom?”

  “She’s in her room. Just follow the hallway down. It’s the door on the end,” he replies before going back to whatever he was doing earlier.

  I nod my thanks and heed his directions. I’m right in front of her bedroom door when I hear it. A pain cramps in my chest as my heart shatters into a million tiny pieces. There are barely audible sobs coming from the other side of her bedroom door. A small part of me wants to walk away right now, so I don’t catch her in yet another embarrassing moment. But I know I could never do that. I am not the kind of guy who walks away when a woman is crying. I’m the one who will kick down the door, wrap her in my arms, tell her it will all be okay, and do whatever the hell I can to make those words ring true.

  But still, kicking down her door is not the right first move to make here. Knocking or calling out her name would be. So, that’s what I do.

  “Chloe?” I ask as if I’m searching for her. I’m hoping this will give her enough warning to dry her tears.

  “I’m in here,” she calls out. Her voice sounds broken, deflated. It’s not its usual cheery self, and that pains me. The sound feels like a blow straight to my chest. I give her another thirty seconds before I knock on the door. “Come in.”

  Chloe’s sitting on her bed, staring at the wall. She doesn’t bother to glance in my direction. That’s how I know she’s too far gone already. I know this look all too well. I’ve seen it way too many times to count. She’s spiraling down a rabbit hole of dark and sorrowful thoughts, drowning out all positivity and only focusing on the most negative scenarios. She’s lost, and I’m going to make it my mission to dive in and swim her back to the surface.

  I take my place, sitting down beside her. I don’t think; I just act. I’m operating on pure empathy. There’s no malicious intent or ulterior motive for anything that I’m about to do. Leaning forward, I kiss the side of her head, letting my lips linger a few seconds longer before I close my eyes and rest my forehead on her.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, my voice a low whisper. I rub my thumb up and down the exposed skin of her arm.

  She’s silent for a while—a good while before she finally speaks up. “My business is struggling. But it’s not so much that specifically that’s bothering me.”

  “Then tell me what is.”

  I can feel her entire body shaking in my arms as the sobs return. Instinctively, I squeeze her, pulling her tighter into my chest. She releases a staggered breath when she sighs.

  “I just feel like I’m letting my grandmother’s legacy die. And I cannot live with myself for failing her like that.” Her confession weighs heavy on me. Carrying on a late grandparent’s legacy is not an easy burden to carry. I never knew her grandmother, but I don’t think this kind of stress is what she wanted for you. As much as I want to reassure her of that, I know my words will only fall flat. It’s hard to convince any woman of anything, but much less so when you have actually never met the person they’re talking about. So, I do what feels natural to me.

  “Tell me about her.”

  My words seem to catch her completely by surprise. Chloe wiggles out of my arms, and for the first time since I arrived, she locks onto my admiring gaze. Her olive eyes have a sheen from her tears. But despite all her tears, all her worries, and all her fears, she smiles. And my heart somersaults in my chest at the sight of it.

  “Where do I even begin?” She rumbles around the thoughts in her head for a moment. “She was a small little thing, a little under five feet. Whenever we would go over to her house, she would pull me aside to help her bake treats for the rest of us. I was her little assistant while my three brothers helped our grandfather build a treehouse in the backyard. And I loved everything about it. She’s the reason I fell in love with baking. And since all three of my brothers now have a home renovation show, I think it’s safe to say our grandparents shaped us into the people we are today.”

  Using my thumb, I brush a stray tear off her cheek. “Tell me more. What would you and your grandma talk about while you baked?”

  “Just my life, really. I just felt so safe with Nana. I knew that whatever I told her, it would be safe with her no matter what it was. She was tight-lipped. Hell, I’m not even sure she ever told PawPaw about the things I told her.”

  The way reminiscing about her grandmother brings the light to her eyes and the full smile to her lips; it’s intoxicating. I hope one day, just thinking about me would make her light up like this. Granted, I never want to touch the notorious Nana-level status. She deserves to keep that one on a pedestal for all time.

  “Growing up with three brothers, I’m sure it wasn’t always easy being the only girl,” I supply, hopeful that I’m not overstepping here.

  “Exactly! She was like the sister I never had. And no matter what I was feeling, baking with her was always the cure to any problem. Every recipe I make now is hers. She perfected them all, and who am I to mess with perfection?”

  I know I shouldn’t ask this, but it’s the only way to progress this conversation forward to the point Chloe needs it to reach.

  I pat my stomach. “Thank you, Nana.”

  I’m rewarded with a small giggle. But it doesn’t last long. As soon as I ask my next question, her lips pull down into a frown.

  “When did she pass?”

  “Ten years ago, today. That’s probably why I’m such a mess. I was trying to block it out all day, but…well, you know how that works.”

  I place a kiss on her forehead, half-surprised that she let me. “Based on what you’ve told me about her, I don’t think you’re failing her legacy. The way I see it, her legacy does not live on through the bakery. No matter what happens to the bakery, her legacy lives on every time you bake one of her recipes for your son, and it brings a smile to both your faces. Her legacy lives on through you, Chloe.”

  I analyze her eyes carefully, desperate to see if my words resonate within her. There’s a golden fleck within them that gives me hope that they did. When her lips twitch into a smile, I know my mission was accomplished. The best part of it all is that I meant every single word I said wholeheartedly.

  “That is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me,” Chloe admits. “Thank you. I really needed to hear that today.”

  Her gaze dips from my eyes to my lips, then back to my eyes again. Then without a moment’s notice, she fists the fabric of my shirt and yanks my mouth to hers. They collide in a needy kiss, full of wanting and pent-up desire. As her tongue slides against my bottom lip, I open for her, granting her the access she wants.

  The second my tongue sweeps across hers, a tremor of lust rattles through me, residing right in my cock. Awakened, it begins to stir in my jeans, banging against his denim confinement to let him the fuck out. She stands up as one of her hands slides to the back of my head and fists my hair. She yanks my head back, giving her a much better angle to deepen the kiss. And what a fucking kiss it is indeed.

  Her lips move against mine with such ferocity that it knocks the air right out of my lungs, leaving me feeling dizzy and lightheaded as she reclines me, my back against her bedsheets. Without breaking the kiss, she follows me. Her lips are warm, her tongue soft as it continues to seek my own. My mind is foggy as it spins in a thousand different directions.

  I moan into her mouth, unable to control myself when she pushes her hips against me, rubbing herself against the full length of my hard-on. She continues, picking up the speed, our mouths keeping up with the qui
ckening pace of our gyrating thrusts. I’m up, she’s down, and we are both losing our fucking minds to the sensations. And then, she stills, falling limp on top of me as she breaks the kiss.

  “I’m sorry. I got carried away. It’s been a while since,” she admits, letting her sentence trail off at the end. I open my eyes to find the blush settling in her cheeks. Leaning forward, she places a kiss on my cheek. “Goodnight, Lucas. Thanks for everything.”

  Then she walks me to the front door and closes it behind me as I leave. What the hell just happened?

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chloe

  I can’t stop thinking about that kiss. How much I shouldn’t have done it. How badly I didn’t want it to stop. How I turned a sweet moment—probably the sweetest, most sincere moment of my entire life—into a heaping mess of groans, grinding, and devouring each other’s lips. And yet, the only thing I regret is not chasing Lucas down the hallway, bringing him back to my room, and finishing what I started.

  Instead of having what was probably going to be the greatest sex of my life, I’m lying on my bed, smiling at the ceiling like a giddy schoolgirl who just received her first kiss. Since it’s been more than a decade since I was kissed like that—scratch that, I was never kissed like that before—in a lot of ways, this was my new first kiss. A rejuvenation that has revived the part of me that I have suppressed for far too long. I feel like a newborn phoenix rising from the tragic ashes of her past.

  A couple of hours later, my mind is still fixated on that kiss, which makes trying to go to sleep nearly impossible. It would be so damn easy to give in to what I’m feeling for Lucas. I like the way he can always make me laugh. Or how he never takes life too seriously, and he can cheer me up in my darkest moments just by being himself. I like how I feel when he’s around. Even more so, I like how when he’s around Kyle, everything just seems to fall into place. Like he’s the missing puzzle piece that I lost a very long time ago. But that’s also what terrifies the living shit out of me.