Not knowing what he is going to say is killing me. But it’s not nearly as bad as him dragging this moment out for what feels like an eternity. Time passes by, although I’m unsure how much. It could be thirty seconds or even five minutes; I haven’t the slightest idea which is more accurate.
“Okay.”
“Okay…” I trail on, urging him to elaborate a little bit more on his answer.
“Okay, you have my permission, Mr. Ashford.”
I sigh a breath from deep within my chest and extend my hand out to him to shake on it. He doesn’t take it just yet.
“But know this. I don’t care if you’re my teacher or not. You hurt her, and you and I are going to have a problem. Got it?” Kyle reaches his hand out to me. I clasp it.
“Fair enough.” We shake hands. “Now, let’s begin your lesson.”
Chapter Twenty
Lucas
I feel like a new man. Like I’m on cloud fucking nine. It’s been nearly two weeks since I received Kyle’s permission to ask his mom out. But as Kyle suspected, that was the easy part. Convincing Chloe, on the other hand, is where the real work begins.
For the past two weeks, I’ve increased her daily doses of Lucas charm. I’ve popped into the bakery every evening after work just to say hello. Then on Wednesdays and Saturdays, I’ve tutored Kyle. He’s making real progress, which makes me increasingly happy and proud. During our sessions, I’ve made it a point to engage in one of our starts off innocent but turns heated rather quickly talks. And then, of course, there are those Stud Muffin Sundays for her Youtube channel. We’ve successfully filmed two of those tutorials thus far, in both of which, I’m shirtless, wearing only a The Nutty Cookie embroidered apron to cover me.
Each time I arrive for filming, I make sure to tease her—to drag out the process of taking off my shirt. Nice and slow. Cuz I like the feel of her heated, hungry gaze on me. It’s thrilling. Intoxicating! I must feel it wash all over me. It’s like I’m an addict. A junkie. A fiend. And knowing that she can’t help but watch me strip off my shirt gives me the fix I need—the quick hit that I crave.
This connection I feel, this ever-burning inferno blazing through my bloodstream isn’t going anywhere. My body aches for her. For her touch. For her kiss. For her companionship. And then, of course…there’s the unexplainable physical attraction I feel for her that runs so deep into the core of my existence. I get a blood rush straight to my head and dick—for once, they’re on the same page—when I imagine her in my bed. She’s in my veins, flowing through my body, like a drug that I never want to be weaned off. I’m addicted to Chloe Hayden. All of her quirks. Flaws. Idiosyncrasies. Everything from head to toe. I can’t get enough of her. And that is what makes tonight so important.
After two weeks of persuading, everything’s set. Chloe is coming over for dinner tonight, and I’m already prepping the chicken for tonight’s culinary masterpiece. I’m determined to prove to her that I’m not completely clueless in a kitchen. On the contrary, I can cook. I can cook so masterfully that I bet my lips won’t be the only thing making her moan tonight. Cuz I plan to kiss the fuck outta her. To show her exactly how good I can make her feel. To reciprocate how she makes me feel so fucking fantastic all the damn time and then some. She deserves it all. I want to pamper her, serve her, and then show her precisely what I can bring to the table. If only she’s willing to throw caution to the wind with me—to get outside of our own heads. So, for at least one night, we can both just enjoy ourselves.
The doorbell chimes, and the sound echoes down the hall. I feel my heart squeeze in my chest. I take a moment to release a shaky exhale. It’s go time!
My hands start to shake as I reach for the doorknob. I clutch it tighter, feeling the vibrations pulse up my arm. Ugh, I’m so fucking nervous. Why am I this nervous? I scrub my other hand over my face in an attempt to calm myself. I’m not convinced that it actually worked, but I don’t want to keep her waiting any longer than I already have.
Biting the bullet, I swing the door open wide and twitch my lips into a welcoming smile. I open my mouth to greet her, but my mouth suddenly goes dry. Holy hell, she’s stunning. So goddamn beautiful that I’m at a loss for words.
I bite down on my lower lip as I let my eyes leisurely roam down her body. I want to savor this moment. To enjoy eye-fucking the hell outta her. She’s wearing some pink sweater whose hem rides a bit higher than usual, exposing a sliver of her midriff to my hungry gaze. It takes all my willpower not to reach out and trace it with my finger. My gaze dips lower to appreciate the blue denim jeans speckled in white polka dots that tightly hug her curves in all the right places.
“I’m going to need you to stop looking at me like I’m your next meal,” Chloe says with a playful lilt in her tone.
I shake my head, an overdramatic attempt to demonstrate to her that I have snapped out of it and regained my gentlemanly control.
“Sorry. It’s just…” The word dies on my tongue as I’m taken aback yet again by just how gorgeous she really is. “Wow.”
When I’ve completely gathered up the remaining IQ points that fell out of my mouth the instant I saw her, I step to the side. “Please, come in.”
Chloe follows me into the large open space room containing the living room, a round dining table, and my kitchen. I check on the chicken for a moment before I turn back around to face her. She holds up a bottle of Tennessee whiskey.
I raise a rakish brow.
“Is this your way of trying to get me drunk so you can do dirty, deliciously sinful things to me later?” I smile, amused as I mess with her. And because…fuck if the idea of her playing with my body as if it were her own doesn’t turn me on. Great, now I’m all boned up in my kitchen.
She doesn’t answer me or squirm a little bit like I expect her to. Instead, she eyes something over my shoulder.
“Same can be said about you. Two bottles of wine?” she challenges. This is a side of her I haven’t seen yet. It’s excruciatingly sexy. My dick twitches in my pants, throbbing with need, want, and desire. I’m glad she’s comfortable enough around me now to provoke me.
I laugh off her accusation. “It’s for cooking. I’m making Chicken Marsala.”
Her eyes widen as her lips part.
“You don’t have to look so surprised, ya know?” I scoff, even though that’s precisely the reaction I hoped for. I want to blow her mind so many times tonight that she gets whiplash—to show her every side of me. All that I have to offer. That way, when I put my heart out on the line for her later tonight, she knows exactly what she’d be saying yes or no to. “I know my way around a kitchen.”
Her warm, infectious laughter fills the room. A glorious sound that I definitely want repeated. So, I make it my mission to compel her to do it again.
Chloe takes a seat at one of the stools flanking the kitchen island. “Forgive me if I’m a skeptic. I’ve seen you bake.”
I lean forward and boop her on the nose. “Ah, but that’s just the thing. You’ve only seen me bake. Never cook. Prepare to be amazed.” I mime my head exploding, complete with the BOOSH sound effect.
I prepare the sauce and place the four chicken breasts in the pot to marinate for an hour or so. I turn around just in time to catch her checking out my ass. Not that I can blame her, it’s a nice ass—or so I’ve been told. And I smirk because…fuck yeah!
Her cheeks flush the shade I’m oh-so-familiar with now. But rather than poke the bear and say something like if you wanna touch it, all you have to do is ask or squeeze it, tease it, lick it, kick it, it’s yours, I decide it’s probably best that I bite my tongue. To reprieve her embarrassment, I opt to change the topic altogether, gesturing my head toward the whiskey bottle she placed on the counter.
“Do you take me for a whiskey man?” I ask roughly. Her green eyes study me for a moment before she answers.
She shrugs.
“I’m not sure. I just saw it, and it reminded me of you.”
I rake a hand throug
h my hair, combing it down with my fingers. “How so?”
Leaning forward, she ruffles my hair, messing up all my hard work. “It matches your eyes.”
I swear my heart swells two sizes at her confession. Not only is she thinking about me, but she knows my eyes well enough to match their pigment with whiskey. It’s a small victory, but a victory, nonetheless.
My smirk is playful as I draw my brows down. “Does it, now?”
She nods. “Yup. The exact same shade. But that’s not the only similarity.”
She’s goading me, and I’m falling for it—playing into her masterful hands, anxious to hear what’s going to fall from her lips next.
I lean forward and rest my chin in my hands. “Oh, do tell. I’m dying to hear this.”
Taking me completely by surprise, she hops onto the countertop, her ass against the gray granite. She slides over to me. Leaning forward, she feathers her lips against the side of my neck.
“And it’s smooth,” she explains as her hot breath tickles my neck and sends shivers down my spine. “Just.” Kiss. “Like.” Kiss. “You.” Kiss.
I tilt my head back and release a long, sensuous groan toward the ceiling. My skin ignites as Chloe continues trailing scorching kisses down the column of my throat. With each small press of her lips, my dick kicks, begging for attention like the shameless fucker he is.
“Chloe,” I grunt. Her name is a warning on my tongue. “Don’t start something you don’t plan to finish.”
“Oh, I plan to finish. Again. And again. And again,” she whispers into my neck, her words mumbled.
As much as it pains me, I place my hands on her shoulders and step back, breaking her contact with my neck. Our gazes lock. She stares at me with those intense green eyes that I love so much and hate that I love staring at. Tonight, there’s something in them that I’ve never seen before. Desire. Pure, white-hot desire. Fuuuuuuck me.
I want to act on it—to taste her. Devour her. Make her melt under my touch, my tongue. To give us both the greatest night of our lives. But before I can do that, I have to know what’s changed. Why is she suddenly coming on to me so strong? Sure, it’s what we do—correction, it’s what I do. She’s never done more than heavy flirting at most.
I glare at her, leveling her with my eyes. With a low voice, I husk out. “Before we take this any further, I need to know what’s changed. But more importantly, I need to know what you want.”
I’m caught in the fire of her gaze. “I realized something today. Something that changed my perspective on things—on us,” she clarifies.
“Go on,” I grumble, my heart still pounding hard against the cage of my chest from her kisses.
“Thanks to our little grocery stunt.”
“Your little grocery stunt,” I correct.
“Fine, my little grocery stunt. Everyone in town already thinks we’re together. So, why don’t we just have a little fun?” Her smile is dripping with her dirty intentions.
“Is that what you want? Some fun?” The word feels strange on my tongue. Fun. What exactly does fun consist of? Chloe nods, but that’s nowhere near good enough for me. She starts to scoot closer to me, but I stop her. “I need to hear you say exactly what you want. I’m not going to do this interoperation bullshit.”
She perks up, straitening her posture. I can already tell that voicing what she wants aloud to me is going to make her feel uncomfortable, but I need her to say it. I need her to tell me exactly what she wants from me. What she wants me to do. Or not do.
My blood is boiling as I wait for her to voice her consent. That’s the only thing stopping me from letting go of my self-control.
“Let’s make our own Chapter Twenty-One,” she implores. I know exactly what she wants, but I still need her to say it. Point blank. No room for confusion or misinterpretation. She must sense this because she clarifies. “Lucas?”
“Yeah?” I grunt.
“Fuck me. Right here. Right now.”
With reckless abandon, our mouths collide. Chloe’s legs are wrapped around my waist; her arms slinked around my neck as I lift her off the counter. I frame the sides of her face, positioning her just where I want her, and drag my lower lip across hers. When she opens for me, I kiss her like it’s all I’ve thought about doing. Cuz it is. I don’t know what’s going to happen after this. But I don’t care. Cuz for right now. She’s mine. I’m hers. And that’s all that matters.
Chapter Twenty-One
Chloe
His mouth comes down on mine, hard and hot. His hands sink into my hair, angling my head, and a needy, frantic spike of pleasure jumps up my spine with every stroke of his warm, wet tongue. It’s been forever since I wanted someone like this. It feels good to want again.
His stubble scrapes my cheek, adding to the push and pull of our greedy kiss.
“I want you naked,” Lucas growls. The hot gravel in his voice turns me on even more.
“Then shut up and take off my clothes,” I pant against his lips.
“With pleasure.” My pulse quickens as the tone of his words washes over me.
Lucas reclines me, placing my back against…a mattress? I survey the space and realize that we’ve moved. This sly devil found a way to relocate us to his bedroom and still kiss the breath out of my lungs. Color me impressed.
When his hands are back on me, a little sigh escapes from my lips, and my eyes close. My heart thumps to the beat of whatever tune he is lightly drumming onto my forearm. Trailing upward, his fingers trace the neckline of my ribbed sweater. My skin sizzles under his touch.
I open my eyelids and lock onto his hungry gaze. He’s staring down at me, looking at me like my clothes are already off. And that’s fucking sexy.
“Let me worship you,” he sighs in a dirty whisper.
I lean forward slightly, making it easier for him to slip my sweater over my head. When it’s off, he chucks it behind him. I can hear the fabric collide with the floor somewhere. Without wasting any time, Lucas leans forward, distracting me with open-mouthed kisses along my throat as he descends to my breasts. He begins kissing them over the lace of my bra, taking turns as he lavishes each one with attention. I toss my head back, moaning at the ceiling as his warm mouth sucks on the thin fabric. It’s been a long time since I’ve been touched like this. Lucas is rough but gentle. Possessive, yet tender. With just the right amount of biting to drive me positively insane with lust.
I squirm under him, causing him to give me an appreciative chuckle. The vibrations only add to the pleasurable sensations as they reverberate through my breasts. I arch my back and thrust my hips upward, showing him exactly where I want him to focus his attention next.
Trailing kisses down my stomach, he pops open the button on my jeans. Diving down, he tugs down the zipper with his teeth. I wiggle beneath him, trying to shimmy the tight-fitting fabric over my hips. Catching on, Lucas yanks the fabric the rest of the way, leaving me in just my bra and panties. My body is almost completely exposed for his viewing pleasure.
Lucas gives me a seamless full-body once-over. His grin is relaxed, easy. “So fucking gorgeous.”
Instinctively—as I do whenever anyone compliments my body—I roll my eyes. Using my hand, I cover up the group of small scars from my stretch marks on my stomach that I wish would just go the hell away and never come back.
He takes notice, swatting my hand away. When he looks at me, I avert my gaze, afraid that I might see disgust in them. But he places a finger under my chin and guides my gaze back to his. That’s when my heart squeezes in my chest, for I don’t see disgust at all. Instead, his hazel irises shine with admiration. I swallow hard, trying to force down the lump in my throat. My vision blurs from the tears now welling in my eyes.
He doesn’t say anything to put my mind at ease—to let me know what exactly he’s thinking. Instead, he does what Lucas does best. He shows me.
He dips his head until he’s hovering over my biggest insecurity. My heart stops—my breath hitches. I haven’t the f
aintest idea what he’s about to do. Not knowing mixed with feeling this vulnerable to him terrifies me. First, he brushes his thumb over the area. Then, he traces each fine line with his tongue before he places a sweet, chaste kiss over each and every one of them.
“So.” Kiss. “Fucking.” Kiss. “Gorgeous.” Kiss. He repeats those three words a few more times, separating them with a kiss to my scars. As if he hasn’t done enough already to make me feel better, he returns his gaze to mine and speaks from the heart as he continues tracing each scar with the tip of his finger. “From your pregnancy?”
I nod my head, still unable to form a proper sentence. They never faded away completely after I gave birth to Kyle. Sure, they’re not the ugly, veiny red marks they once were, but they’re still white, visible scars—ones that weren’t there before I gave birth. And even after all these years, I’ve never gotten comfortable having them.
Lucas raises a brow. “You wanna know what I see?”
“What’s that?” I ask, my voice hoarse as the tears streak down my face.
“I see a warrior’s mark. Cuz you’re a strong, courageous, and unbreakable woman who brought life into this world—a selfless, loving mother who puts her son before anyone else. You made a wonderful family. And each one of these scars is a reminder of that—a reminder of just how incredible you truly are. These marks helped make you the sexy woman you are today. And you are absolutely breathtaking. Don’t you ever think otherwise.”
I can tell by the sincerity flickering in his eyes, by the passion with which he delivers each word, that he means every single one of them. And that…is too much for me to handle. How am I supposed to continue to resist this man after tonight when he talks to me like that? Like he adores me.
“Thank you,” I mutter, unsure of what else to say.
With his thumb, he swipes the tears from my eyes and dries my cheeks. “You don’t have to thank me. It’s true. Every last word.”
Chemistry: An Everyday Heroes World Novel (The Everyday Heroes World) Page 12
