Stepbrother Anonymous(23)

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 handle.”

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.





CONTINUE READING…





UNDER FIRE

(BLUE-COLLAR ALPHAS)





ARIA COLE





One





Brianna

“Here, kitty, kitty, kitty,” I cooed, tossing another treat his way.

A low grumble vibrated from somewhere by the bed.

“Don’t be a bad boy. Come to Mommy.” I tried my best to stay calm as fire alarms rang around my head. “Jinx…”

I heard the bang of footsteps up the old stairwell.

“Jinx! For God’s sake, come to Mommy!” I inched closer, the fire alarms wearing on my last fucking nerve. “Jinx, come here, boy. Please come here.”