Perfect Chemistry

by Aria Cole

  “I’m so glad the timing is finally right.”

  “Me too, love. Me fucking too.”

  EPILOGUE

  Devon

  Four years later

  I pressed the glass of champagne to my lips, admiring the radiant beauty that was my Karoline across the room. Among a sea of our closest friends and family, and even a few colleagues, we had gathered to celebrate her college graduation. After spending almost the last three and a half years working late into the night, bleary-eyed and exhausted, she’d graduated with honors from the college ten minutes away from our home, and after a summer of interning at a high-end engineering firm, she’d been offered a permanent position.

  They said she was a bright star, but I’d already known that. Karoline had been the brightest star in my sky since the second she stepped into my universe.

  I watched as she laughed with her girlfriend, then wrapped one of them in a tight hug. Karoline stepped away from the group, making eye contact with me as she crossed the distance between us.

  She wrapped an arm around my waist and leaned her head against my shoulder. “I can't wait for all these people to leave.”

  I laughed, slinging an arm around her neck before pulling her in for a quick kiss. I was just as anxious as she was to clear these people from our home so we could really get to celebrating. “Guess I should give that toast then.”

  “Oh, god.”

  “Enough.” I pressed a fingertip over her lips before lifting my flute and clearing my throat. “Welcome everyone. I’d like to thank you for being here with us to celebrate today. It’s been a journey, and if I could, I’d like to say a few things about our favorite girl.” I turned to Karoline, her cheeks flaming in that adorable way, before continuing. “The moment I met Karoline Kingston, I knew she was destined for big things. Not just because she was intelligent and driven, but because she was stubborn. She had something to prove, and when she sets her mind to something, as we all know by now, she accomplishes it.”

  A few people clapped as an embarrassed Karoline ducked under my arm, her hand threaded at the waist of my slacks.

  “I’m so thrilled you chose to walk this path with me by your side. I’m honored to congratulate you on your degree, Mrs. Walsh.”

  Her grin split her face, just as I’d known it would. She loved when I called her that, so from the day she’d pledged to be my wife three years ago on a summer afternoon, I’d been calling her my missus as often as I could. A degree may have been Karoline’s dream, but she was mine.

  We’d spent the rest of her senior year hiding our relationship by having study dates at my house, regular dates at my house, sleepovers at my house. Karoline's parents worked so much and she was such a responsible eighteen-year-old that they’d given her free rein.

  When I’d popped the question and slipped a ring on her finger on the night of her high school graduation, we made us official. Her parents had been shocked to say the least, but after a few conversations with her dad and a few dinners at their house, they’d warmed up soon enough. I didn’t blame them for vetting me. Our relationship had moved at a thousand miles per hour, so of course they wanted to know I loved her and would cherish her.

  She was the other half of my heart.

  I grinned, remembering the countless stolen breaths between us. I pressed my lips to hers in a slow, triumphant kiss as the small crowd clapped.

  “Devon, there’s one more thing we should share with them.”

  “What’s that, baby?” I asked through love-drunk lips.

  “That you’re going to be a daddy in less than nine months.”

  My mouth dropped open, my heart beating a frantic pace as her words shuffled around in my champagne-addled brain.

  “Karoline?”

  “Yes?”

  I was convinced I was hearing things. “You’re kidding me, right?”

  “Mmm, I do get a kick out of kidding you.”

  “Karoline…” I pulled her hands in mine and held her gaze.

  “Let me be the first to congratulate you.” She pressed up on her tiptoes and planted a kiss on my cheek. “Daddy.”

  I froze, my mind finally registering that this was real, she wasn't kidding, and the little miracle we’d been waiting for was finally on its way to us. She’d gone off her birth control pills almost a year ago, but just as the doctor had warned, it had taken us a long time to conceive. We’d had fun trying an endless array of different positions during stolen moments between her classes and my schedule, but after a few months, all the trying had gotten to her. I’d begun to worry that maybe we couldn’t have kids, maybe something was wrong with me. But every time tears soaked her face when she announced her period had come, I’d stroked her hair, murmuring that we just had to wait for the timing to catch up with us.

  Those moments of wiping her tears and soothing her soul were all the proof I needed that I’d found my soul mate. I may not have believed in love at first sight, but our souls were definitely connected, woven together with a thousand heart-stopping experiences of powerful love.

  I waved at the crowd, suddenly conscious of a dozen pairs of eyes on us. I pushed a hand over my face, trying to cover the emotion in my eyes, before Karoline threaded her fingers through mine and pulled me out of the room.

  I followed her down the long hallway, and she ducked into our master bedroom. I shut the bedroom door behind us, allowing us a few moments of privacy while the party went on. There was enough booze to keep our friends and family happy for a while, and I knew they wouldn’t miss us. Right now, I needed her. I needed confirmation that we’d created something out of the love we carried between us.

  I pulled her into my arms. We’d waited years for this. If I’d had it my way, I would have had my baby in her belly long before now, but I’d waited for her to pursue her dream. But now that she was on the path to accomplish all of her goals, was the timing finally right for us?

  “It’s really happening?”

  “It’s happening.” A grin split her lips. “I’ve taken three tests, then I had it confirmed just this morning by blood test. We made a baby, Devon.”

  She snuggled into my arms and kissed me. My hands pressed at her flat stomach, anticipation running through my blood at the idea of seeing her swell with my son or daughter.

  “Oh, baby.” I dropped to my knees, pressing my lips to her belly and murmuring sweet endearments. “I love you so much. You and your mama are everything to me.”

  I stood, holding her face as I slipped my tongue past her lips and coaxed all the love she had to give out of her.

  “I’ve been waiting to properly congratulate you all night,” I whispered against her lips as one hand trailed up her skirt, slipping the fabric, along with her panties, down her legs. Her fingers worked at the zipper of my pants with fevered energy. “Now we’ve got more reason than ever to celebrate.”

  “Devon…”

  My thick cock invaded her pussy. Sucking in shallow breaths, she clutched my shoulders as her head fell back against the mirror. With my hands gripped at her ass, I thrust in a tortured rhythm, hell-bent on showing her how much I loved her with every beat of my heart.

  “You made me the happiest man the day you said yes, so I didn’t think I could get any happier.” I pushed my fingers into her silky hair and tilted her head to the side. “I was wrong.” One slow drag of my tongue up her throat. “This day beats that one.” I slid a palm between us, swirling my fingers at her clit as her mouth clamped down on my shoulder, doing her best to stifle her moans. “You and I have perfect chemistry, Karoline Walsh. You’ve given me the entire world, and I plan on thanking you every single day for it.”

  A tiny groan burst past her lips before her face twisted in sweet agony and her pussy clenched around my cock in slow, delicious waves. My own release rocketed through me as a thousand stars swam in my vision.

  Karoline was the other half of my soul. The cosmos had aligned long before, and the timing only had to be right to get us to where we
were.

  Creating perfect chemistry.

  THE END

  UNDER PRESSURE

  (BLUE-COLLAR ALPHAS)

  ARIA COLE

  Copyright © 2017 by Aria Cole

  Editing: Silently Correcting Your Grammar

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage

  Jean-Luc Martel knows good taste. As the award-winning celebrity chef of éloïse, he's amassed a high-end clientele and hordes of dedicated foodie fans. But while he's a master in the kitchen, his reputation for being a nightmare to work with precedes him. Known for his rapid-fire temper, chiseled good looks, and a dash of tattooed, bad boy edge, Jean-Luc doesn't take shit from anyone. Until he meets Delaney Thomas. She's talented, sassy, entirely too sexy for her own good, and the niece of his best friend and sous chef.

  Every bone in his body is telling him to take what's his, but outside forces soon conspire to pull them apart, and Jean-Luc finds himself more torn and tortured than he's ever been. As his bad boy reputation threatens to rattle the very foundations of the forever he's trying to build with Delaney, they'll both be forced to decide if love really can exist under the most intense pressure.

  Warning: Jean-Luc is a sex-on-a-stick, walking, talking, blue-blooded alpha male. The only thing that melts this man's frozen heart is the woman of his dreams, and something tells him nothing would taste sweeter than Delaney on his tongue. If you can't handle the heat, stay out of Jean-Luc's kitchen!

  ONE

  Jean-Luc

  “Get these out the door. Come on, guys! It’ll be fucking cold by the time it reaches the table!” I belted, pushing two elegantly decorated plates into the hands of the next server that walked into the kitchen.

  She looked at me, eyes wide as she struggled, nearly dropping one of them.

  “Table twelve.” The growl that vibrated from my throat must have done its job. She spun, racing right back out the doors she’d come through without a word.

  “Fuck, who does the hiring around here?” I shoved a hand into the deep pocket of my apron and pulled out my pack of cigarettes. I was supposed to be quitting, one last habit I hadn’t quite been able to shake. “I’ll be back in five.”

  I waved, leaving the kitchen staff to handle the firing of a new round of dishes. Sometimes I imagined what my life would be like if I went somewhere else, cut and run on this little venture, but I couldn't, because it was my little venture.

  I groaned, shoving through the back door to the alleyway and leaning against the cold brick as I lit the stick in my mouth. I took one long, slow inhale, letting the smoke evaporate my anxiety, feeling it coil through my body like an instant muscle relaxer. No wonder I couldn't quit these little babies; my life was too damn stressful at éloïse not to have a few vices to get me through.

  “Chef?” My sous chef, Nero, pushed through the crack in the door.

  “Fuck, what, man? I can’t take any more shit tonight. I’m going to start taking the hiring away from Frank. I can’t carry the front and the back of the house by myself.”

  Nero’s eyes widened before someone stepped out from behind him, almost smaller than he was, as if that were possible. She was barely five foot two and had enough curves to get a man lost for days.

  “Who’s this?” I drew on my cigarette.

  “This is my niece. Frank hired her as the hostess, but she’s got some experience expediting.” Nero nodded. “She grew up in my father's restaurant, knows her way around things real well.”

  “How old is she?” I tried like hell to keep my eyes off her oversized ocean-blue ones. Christ, why did she keep looking at me like that? Like she was seeing inside my soul. Every goddamn dark corner I kept hidden, she shone a light on. It made me uncomfortable, made me kinda fucking itch. I sucked another lungful of cancer into my body and exhaled, trying to shake the feeling, praying the nicotine would do its job and relax my muscles into submission.

  “Just turned twenty-one,” Nero finally answered. I knew his family came from a long line of chefs, cooks, and restaurateurs. They were an accomplished family in their own right, and that’s why he was my right-hand man. Also, because he knew me, inside and out. Every shameful secret I had, Nero knew. He was one of the few people who knew everything about me that I actually kept around—and only because he was a damn good cook. I couldn't run this place half as well without him, and I paid him top dollar to show my appreciation. Fucker deserved a gold mine for the hell I put him through.

  I’d met Nero years ago, during a time I’d rather forget. That guy had seen me at my worst. And now that we were both in a better place, it’d only made sense that I bring him on when I finally cajoled investors and was able to open my own restaurant. Whoever sank two million into the startup of éloïse had to be a little crazy, and Frank was no doubt that, but he also saw something in me no one else had: passion. Food was my life, and it was the only thing that saved me all those years ago when I was destitute on the street.

  But that was the past, and hell if I liked lingering there.

  Éloïse, home of seasonal local dishes that evolved on a daily basis, was my baby. All plates curated by me, Chef Jean-Luc Martel. Food & Wine had rated me #1 up-and-coming chef to watch when I was twenty-two. I’d had a rocky road the first half of my thirty-two years, but the second half I’d made count.

  The one thing I apparently did not have?

  A decent waitstaff.

  “Tell Frank I want to chat with him about hiring,” I shot to Nero, tossing my cigarette in the butt tray then finally catching the eye of the blue-eyed beauty who’d been cowering in the shadows before now. “What do I call you?”

  She took a step into the light, eyes narrowing before her lush lips opened. “Delaney Thomas.” I swore when she said her name a lightning bolt cleaved my heart in two. “Can’t wait to work with you, Chef.”

  Christ, I was in deep water with this one.

  My gaze ate up and down her form. “How loud do you holler?”

  Her eyes flared with surprise as Nero’s laugh pulled me from Delaney Thomas. “I’ll catch you later, Lane.” Nero patted Delaney on the back, shaking his head at me before putting up a finger. “Go easy on her, Chef.”

  “Goin’ easy on anyone never got them anywhere.” I knew that firsthand. I’d worked tooth and nail to get this place, and the fact that the front of the house was all but failing was a thorn in my side. I had to take the reins on hiring, and I only hoped Miss Delaney Thomas knew what she was doing because I didn’t have the tolerance for ineptitude. There was a reason éloïse was a Michelin starred restaurant, and I planned on keeping it that way.

  “I can work front or back, wherever you want me,” she said. Her uncle had left us alone, this dark alleyway and a sliver of moonlight the only things separating me from her.

  Our bodies.

  Fuck.

  I hadn’t thought about a woman this way since… Hell, maybe ever. And that irritated me. Everything about this irritated me. How could I work in the kitchen when she was floating around, bumping against my body, and leaning over, her gorgeous tits flashing in my—

  “Where do you want me, Chef?”

  I cleared my throat, suddenly starved for something. Her, underneath me, would satisfy my craving, for starters.

  I moved closer, the heady scent of delicious peaches unfurling around me. Jesus, did she really smell like that? I wanted to bury my face in her creamy, delicious flesh and take my fill. Eat and drink from her altar until I was covered in her juices, dripping with the scent of ripe peaches and Delaney. Damn, I bet she tasted like honey.

  Fuck. I had a problem.

  “I’ve got high standards, Delaney. I’m not an easy man to please.” I paused, leveling her with my eyes. “I hope you can handle the pressure.”

  One eyebrow arched, beautiful red painted lips quirking up in a soft grin. “You might be surprised what I can ha
ndle.”

  Her arms crossing over her chest drew my attention to the delicate petal pink fabric falling over her heavy tits. I sucked in another inhale of peach-scented heaven, my jaw tense as I growled, “Don’t wear the smelly shit tomorrow.”

  I don’t think my dick can handle it.

  “Sure thing, Chef.” She tilted her head to the side and walked back through the back door, belting out orders to the kitchen staff like she’d been doing it her whole life.

  Jesus.

  I didn’t know if I should thank Nero for saving my life or fire him for torturing me with his niece.

  Delaney was in my kitchen and under my skin, and I’d only known her five damn minutes.

  I was in so much trouble.

  TWO

  Jean-Luc

  The following night, just like clockwork, the evening rush hit, and I was left slammed and short a server. I felt that old fire crawling up my throat as I tried to control my tongue. I knew hollering at these guys wasn't always the most productive, but I also sure as hell knew there was sometimes only one way to get someone's attention. In my case, I used words. Also, a shouting voice. Sometimes.

  A server walked in, explaining that one guest had ordered a medium-well filet and received medium-rare. I took a deep breath, spinning on my heel and walking right up to the hostess stand at the front of house.

  “Delaney,” I hummed at her ear. Her head turned sharply, eyes holding mine for extra long beats.

  Shit, one look from her and I forgot my own fucking name.