The words dripped heavily with his accent, but the direction—and the language—was clear.
She turned slowly to face him, eyes narrowed. “You speak English.”
He smirked again, nodding. “Un peu plus que vous ne le Français.” Then he flicked his gaze to the door pointedly, and repeated, “Lock the door, Kelsey.”
It took every ounce of strength Kelsey could muster, but she took a deep breath and shook her head, regretting it instantly and silently kicking herself for being so responsible. Because where was the fun in responsible?
“This can’t happen.” She stepped backwards out of his grasp, then hurried off to put as much distance between herself and a really bad—really tempting—decision as she possibly could. She just had to make it through the next eighteen or so hours… through the wedding, reception, then Sunday morning brunch for the remaining wedding party. After that, the sexy chef would be on his way back to France and Kelsey would be on her way back to L.A.
And she wouldn’t be someone who sleeps with staff at her events.
Chapter 5
As the sun set behind the mountains in the distance, painting the estate a hazy shade of lavender, Kelsey took a quick breather. Standing near one of the multiple bars her crew had erected around the grounds, she counted down the minutes until the guests began to arrive. Exhaustion had begun to creep in around the edges, but she was still flying high on the exhilaration of putting together such a massive, beautiful event.
“Mademoiselle?”
Kelsey’s thighs squeezed together reflexively at the sound of Jean-Luc’s voice, and she gripped the bar with one hand, holding her clipboard and iPad tightly to her chest as she waited for the rush of lust to ease enough to allow her the ability to move her damn legs. She breathed deeply through her nose, then turned slowly to greet the man who was very clearly taunting her.
She closed her eyes as soon as she saw him.
Because men that looked like Jean-Luc? They shouldn’t be allowed to wear a suit. Especially not a suit that was so clearly custom designed to fit his perfect frame.
“Punch me,” she whispered.
“Quelque chose ne va pas, Kelsey?”
She opened her eyes, careful to focus on his face, not his body in that tailored navy-blue suit—although focusing on his face didn’t make it any easier to breathe, if she was honest with herself. He’d shaved since this morning, his fierce jawline smooth, and his lips even more pronounced against his freshly shaven skin.
“You need to stay away from me, Jean-Luc.”
“Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas?” His brows knitted together and he tilted his head, as if confused by her angry tone. Cute.
“Oh, you know exactly what you’re doing to me.”
“I don’t understand.”
There it was again, that heavily-accented English. “My ass.”
His lips quirked up to one side. “A lovely ass.”
He stepped over to her, caging her within his arms so quickly that she didn’t even have time to register that this was the moment to run like hell in the opposite direction. By the time her brain woke up and cried danger!, he was already close enough that the heat of his body pushed her past the point of boiling and right into Death by Jean-Luc territory. Trying to slow her beating heart, she breathed deeply—
Which was a massive mistake. He even smelled yummy.
“Your uh…” He pursed his lips, which only made her focus on them harder. “How you say… le travail…?” He frowned. “Le employ?”
Kelsey nodded. “My job?”
His eyes widened quickly. “Yes. It is complete?”
Kelsey swallowed hard, not daring to speak when all that would come out would either be a series of gibberish or a very unprofessional request to be properly fucked right out here in the open. She nodded. Her job wasn’t technically complete until the reception was over and the bride and groom were off to their honeymoon, and she had a brunch to host here on the grounds for the remaining wedding party tomorrow morning, but to say all that with this man so close to her? Impossible. What were words anyway when bodies communicated the way theirs did?
Jean-Luc flashed a wicked grin. “Alors tu peux me montrer comment faire un gâteau, ma petite Américaine, et je te montrerai comment embrasser comme les Français et baiser comme les Français.”
He leaned forward and, before she could think to push him away, his lips crushed against hers, claiming her mouth with an intensity and hunger that could only be described as—
Exactly the same as hers.
She dropped whatever she’d been holding and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, stretching out her body against his, reveling in the deliciousness between his legs. He pressed his tongue into her mouth, and she nearly moaned as he toyed with her tongue, her teeth, flattening his hand at the base of her back and holding her against his hardness. He pulled back to look at her, smiling wickedly as his gaze flicked back and forth between her eyes.
The distance allowed her a moment to breathe, and the fresh air pumped oxygen through her veins and into her brain and her eyes widened as the realization hit her. She’d just crossed the line she’d promised herself she wouldn’t cross.
And, God help her, she wanted to cross it again.
And again.
And again.
“Tonight,” he said in that heavily-accented English. “Nous finirons ceci après la célébration de mariage.”
He broke the connection between them, then bent to retrieve the iPad, cell phone, and clipboard at her feet. When he rose, he trailed a hand up Kelsey’s calf, allowing it to disappear beneath the hem of her satin midi dress for a moment, then he squeezed the back of her thigh just above her knee, and she shivered at his touch. He dropped his hand and straightened, handing her the items she’d dropped with a wicked grin. He backed away from her slowly, dragging his gaze down her body to leave her with a cruel rush of desire low in her belly.
“Evil,” she whispered.
He smirked, then inclined his head and turned away from her. “Bonsoir, Kelsey.”
The rest of the evening would be a goddamn blur, but she had to pull herself together if she was going to pull this off.
With a deep breath, she straightened her shoulders, ignoring the bundle of nerves between her legs, then stood tall and headed off to the front of the venue.
It was time to get back to business.
Pleasure, it appeared, would come later.
And if Kelsey was lucky, so would she.
Chapter 6
Few revelers remained, their laughter flowing out from inside the main hall of the estate where the stragglers continued the celebration with whatever members of the wedding party were staying at the estate. Having checked on them one final time for the evening, making sure there were plenty of drinks in the fully-stocked bar, an assortment of late-night snacks available for those midnight munchies, and confirming everyone knew where the water bottles were, Kelsey was done with her event planning responsibilities for the night. She’d even provided the best man with a box of condoms just in case—keeping a couple for herself, also just in case—and now she was making her way back to her car so she could drive to her hotel.
But first, she had to lock up the kitchen.
Her feet ached, so she slipped her heels off, walking in the cool grass between the guests’ quarters and the main house, breathing in the damp air, and looking up at the sky filled with so many stars she couldn’t even believe this was the same sky she lived beneath in the city.
“Une belle nuit.” Jean-Luc’s deep voice broke the silence, bringing Kelsey’s feet to a stop as her body awakened to his presence and the exhaustion consuming her just moments ago slunk off into the grass at her feet.
Kelsey lowered her gaze from the sky, smiling as she looked him over.
Shirtless in the moonlight, dress slacks unbuttoned and sitting low on his hips, Jean-Luc was even more devastating now, relaxed and barefoot, looking like the sweetest sin.
> He smiled languidly. “Bonsoir.”
“Bonsoir,” Kelsey repeated, though it was nearly early morning.
They stood like that for a long moment, a few yards apart, locked in one another’s gazes. Kelsey wasn’t done with the job—the gig wasn’t over until after brunch tomorrow—but she couldn’t fight this attraction any longer.
Hell, she didn’t want to.
And she hadn’t really needed to lock up the kitchen, if she was being honest.
She’d come here with one thing on her mind, and he stood here before her now, promising to quench the thirst she’d been fighting since she’d met him… was that just yesterday morning? It seemed like so much longer than that, so many torturous tantalizing moments had passed since then.
She and Jean-Luc were both adults. Both professionals. And they’d worked damn hard to provide the Harringtons with the wedding of their daughter’s dreams. Even that cake, hideous as it was, had been exactly what the bride had asked for. Kelsey’s tastes were clearly quite different than the bride’s, and yet, somehow, once the cake—Oscar, as Kelsey had deemed it— was completed and displayed at the reception site, it matched everything Kelsey had created perfectly. It was outside the box, just enough to be unique and different, but still somehow tied into the other colors of the event. Kelsey was blown away by the way Chef Jean-Luc had made something beautiful out of something she’d originally thought was quite hideous. The wedding cake was a work of art.
And so was the man who created it.
As he finally stepped toward her, dragging out each painfully measured step, Kelsey admired the way his muscles moved in his abs, the way the moonlight deepened the shadows mapping his torso, every ridge and valley defined dramatically.
He stopped in front of her and Kelsey was desperate to close that final foot between them, but instead, she waited. What was one more minute after the torture she’d endured over the last thirty-some-odd hours?
He reached out, sliding one fingertip between her skin and the thin spaghetti strap of her dress, then slid the strap off her shoulder. She inhaled a deep breath as he moved to the other side and slipped that strap off her other shoulder, loosing the dress from her arms so it sank slowly down her body, exposing her in just her black strapless bra and matching seamless thong in the moonlight.
A tiny, bothersome voice in the back of Kelsey’s mind told her this was not just inappropriate, but pretty damn dangerous—being caught naked out here between the main house and the guests’ quarters could tank her career with just one Yelp review—but when Jean-Luc’s gaze travelled down her body in slow, agonizing appreciation, she couldn’t remember what that voice had just said.
“Vous êtes exquis,” Jean-Luc whispered.
When he met her gaze again, the breath left her lungs. His eyes were dark with need, and her body clenched in response. He stepped toward her, then surprised her by picking her up and cradling her in his arms. She shrieked, but the laughter was quickly replaced by fascination as she ran her hand over his hard chest and looked into his dark eyes. He carried her inside the kitchen, closing the door behind him with his ass, then reaching quickly to lock it. He strode toward the island in the middle of the room, then set her bare rump on the cold steel. She gasped, but he stepped between her legs, quickly silencing her with a trail of soft, tender kisses across her collar bone.
He gripped her hips and tugged her forward, pressing hard against her with the massive baguette in his pants. Kelsey bit back a giggle at the thought, then moaned as he moved his hips and teased her swollen center. His eyes flashed with a mix of lust and amusement, then he leaned forward and claimed her mouth, sliding one hand into her hair to grip the back of her neck and the other hand tightened on one of her ass cheeks, holding her in place against his hard length.
The kiss morphed quickly from sexy to hard, demanding, needy. Hungry.
Fucking insatiable.
Kelsey’s hands travelled over his shoulders, his neck, down his back, skittering over the hard ridges of his muscles, touching him everywhere she could reach, then she pushed her hands into the waist of his slacks and down over the hard mounds of his ass, gripping tightly.
He groaned, pulling back to look at her. “Ta touche m’en met le feu.”
She squeezed his cheeks again and his eyes flashed with lust.
“Oh, fuck,” he groaned. The way he said ‘fuck’ ignited her insides, and suddenly the clothes between them were too much. She moved her hands to his front, rubbing over his erection, sending his eyes rolling toward the back of his head, then he slammed a hand over hers and locked eyes. “Wait.”
Kelsey tilted her head at yet another word in English. Although, he would likely know some English if he travelled to America often. The Harringtons weren’t likely to be the first people to hire him and fly him out to the states, right?
He took a step backwards, breathing heavily as if separating their bodies caused him as much pain as it caused her, then he walked to the large refrigerator and retrieved a metal bowl. “You…” He frowned. “The way you looked with… with mon glaçage in your mouth. Je veux te nourrir nouveau.”
Kelsey’s eyebrows rose. “You can speak English.”
“Oui.”
“No, you can really speak English, can’t you?”
“Peut-être.”
Kelsey narrowed her eyes. “You’ve been messing with me.”
His lips twitched. “No. I find people are more honest…” He licked his lips, his brow furrowing. “When there’s a… how you say…” He moved his hand, motioning for Kelsey to help him finish the sentence. “Barricade?”
“When there’s a language barrier?” Kelsey scoffed. “You mean when you lie to them and pretend you don’t speak their language.”
“I did not lie.”
Hadn’t he though? Breathing deeply, she shook her head. Fuck it. She could worry about the semantics after she’d had her fill of this man and his massive cock. “I don’t care what language you speak. As long as you come back over here and fuck me properly.”
His eyes widened. Yeah, he understood that much, at least.
“Patience, Kelsey.” More English. What a jerk that he’d had her believing they had some huge language barrier between them. She shook her head in annoyance, but as he stalked back toward her, promising sex and mind-breaking orgasms, the only barrier between them was his pants and her panties, and she was ready to eliminate those as quickly as he’d apparently eliminated their faux language barrier.
“How do you say orgasm in French?”
Jean-Luc flashed a wicked grin, then he set the bowl on the metal island behind her, and in one swift motion, he had one arm wrapped around her waist and the other between her legs. She gasped as his thumb pressed against her wetness. “You don’t say orgasme, Kelsey, you feel orgasme.” He slid her panties aside, trailing his thumb over her wet folds, nostrils flaring as he watched her face. “Tu es si humide pour moi.”
“Mmm.” She moaned, leaning back on her hands and opening her legs to give him better access.
He massaged a slow circle around her swollen clit, leaning forward to gently bite her breast through her bra, and Kelsey arched, moving her hips against his hand as need replaced every cell in her body with fire.
He slid his hand out from her panties, then grabbed each side at her waist and pulled them off, his eyes darkening as he focused on her pussy. “Exquisite.” He dragged his gaze up to her eyes and said in heavily—sexily—accented English, “Lay on your back, Kelsey.”
She did as she was told, the cool metal of the island biting her skin and cooling her enflamed body. Jean-Luc leaned over her, running his hands slowly from her shoulders, down between her breasts, over her stomach, then around the outer curves of her hips, finally settling his large hands firmly behind her knees. With a quick tug, he lifted them, bending her legs to place her feet on the island. He reached for the metal bowl, then pulled back the plastic covering and dug his finger into whatever goodness lay inside.
He brought his right hand to her face, waving his two cream-covered fingers in front of her nose. “Respirer,” he whispered, waving his fingertips closer to her nose.
Kelsey breathed deeply, the scent of vanilla the most obvious to pick up on, but then she caught a hint of nutmeg and… was that lavender? Whatever it was smelled divine.
“What do you think is this?” His accented voice dripped with so much sex that she ignored the way he was, once again, speaking English quite well for someone who just a few hours ago couldn’t speak more than a word or two.
“Vanilla, nutmeg—”
The hand that wasn’t currently coated in dessert cream disappeared between their bodies and he rubbed his fingers over her wet folds, halting the words in her throat. She gasped as he slipped his fingers inside her.
“Lavender,” she moaned.
“Oui. Bon.” Jean-Luc brought his dessert-covered fingers to her mouth and slipped them past her lips, letting Kelsey sample the sweet pastry cream. The heavenly flavor of vanilla bean exploded in her mouth, with muted hints of nutmeg and cinnamon, and the slightest botanical essence of lavender. He pumped the fingers of his left hand harder between her legs and she clamped down on the fingers in his mouth, moaning as he awakened all of her senses.
Chapter 7
Kelsey couldn’t think straight, couldn’t focus past the sweetness on her tongue and the claiming hand between her thighs. Jean-Luc watched her with such intensity his gaze alone could probably unravel a woman. Combine that look in his dark eyes with the way his fingers curled inside her and the delicious dessert he introduced to her mouth?
Kelsey was soon to be a goner.
He slid the fingers from her mouth and she licked them clean, then whispered, “Mort,” the French word for dead floating into her mind from decades before.
Eat Your Heart Out: A Romance Charity Anthology Page 43