Thunder (Big D Escort Service Book 1)

by Summers, Willow

  “Of course.” He stepped closer and offered his arm, trusting her to keep it professional. Knowing he’d be a problem before she would.

  They fell into silence as they walked, and while Madison’s ability for quiet contemplation was seemingly effortless, he fought against the impulse to fill the space with idle chitchat. He prevented himself from commenting on the dog they saw, for example, and then asking what kind was her favorite. The chill of the day went unnoticed. He even withstood checking in with her.

  It was killing him.

  He’d developed autopilot for these kinds of things, and not falling into that took all his willpower.

  Finally, he couldn’t help himself. “What did you get the happy couple on my behalf?”

  “Oh crap!” She jerked on his arm, making him stop, and turned back toward the car. “I left it at the apartment. Shit! It was this really beautiful crystal set.” She took her arm from his and braced it on her hip. “That sucks. We’re not going back; that would be ridiculous. Oh, speaking of which, how do I reimburse you for gas?”

  He shook his head. Her thoughts were dizzying. She was probably the queen of multitasking. “Don’t worry about that,” he said.

  “I’ll just add it into the final sum. Well, crap, I guess they’ll be getting cash. It’s an impersonal gift, but I don’t really know them anyway, so oh well. We’ll need to stop by a stationery store on the way out.” She motioned him forward again.

  “And the crystal?” he asked.

  “I’ll keep it. It really is beautiful. When I eventually buy a house, it’ll be perfect.”

  He steered her toward his shoe shop of choice. She didn’t offer a comment as they walked inside, instead using her time to silently peruse the shelves. Clearly it made no difference to her what brand went on her feet.

  With the saleswoman’s help, it didn’t take long to find another pair of shoes that were half as tall and apparently much more comfortable. The grace and confidence in Madison’s step, something he’d noticed in her apartment, was back in full force. Her hips swayed rhythmically, like an erotic dance. He couldn’t tear his eyes away.

  He was almost overjoyed he hadn’t been contracted to taste her. Fondle her. It had been so long since he’d experienced the thrill of the chase that he’d forgotten how exhilarating it was. How alluring each touch, each smile felt when the object of his admiration was just out of reach.

  “Are you okay?”

  Colton jumped and yanked his eyes skyward, hoping she hadn’t noticed his heated gaze roaming her curves and pausing on the swell of her breasts. “Yup. Sorry, I was thinking about football.”

  Her pause said she didn’t fully believe them. Thankfully, she didn’t question him. “Ready?”

  “Yup. Sure. Absolutely.” He pulled at his suddenly too-tight collar. He’d have to adjust his hard-on, but now wasn’t the time. She’d notice. Which she’d surely find off-putting.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Definitely. Here’s the stationery store.”

  After she picked out a lackluster card with an evil smile, they visited the ATM. She paused before she keyed in the numbers. “This is going to sound horribly uncouth, but do people tip in your profession, or is that considered offensive?”

  Perplexed, he leaned against the machine, watching the expressions roll across her beautiful face. “Usually not, and why would that be offensive?”

  She went back to what she was doing, taking her attention with her. He nearly reached for her chin to tilt it toward him and regain her focus.

  Overbearing much, Colton?

  “Offensive because I’m pretty sure it’s a bad thing when men leave money on the bedside table as they leave. I think I heard that somewhere.”

  “That’s for a mistress.” He held out his arm when she was ready, even though she no longer needed it. “For a sexual escort situation, which this is not, extra money left behind would be a bonus.”

  She waved his arm away. “I’m okay now, thanks. My feet are nearly at a natural angle.”

  Back at the car, he handed her inside and smiled when she threw her old heels in the back. Some women would kill for that pair of heels. Madison couldn’t be bothered. They didn’t serve a purpose, and so to her, they were now useless.

  “What are the terms of endearment you like?” he asked when they were once again on their way. The reception would likely start in the next fifteen minutes. They should arrive soon afterward, showing their relative indifference to the affair.

  “Don’t call me dumpling, whatever you do. Frank called me that all the time, even though I told him not to.”

  “And Frank is?”

  “My recent ex.”

  “Right. What about Maddie? Do people generally call you that?”

  “Only that ass James. The guy whose wedding we’re going to. My parents never did, so it was his pet name for me that no one else used.”

  Colton smiled as they got closer. That made things easier.

  Five

  “Just relax, okay?” Colton said as he walked around the car, smooth and confident, like he had everything under control. “You be you, and I’ll run interference and make you look good.”

  She blew out a breath as he reached her. Jitters worked through her in the failing light. “We’re really late.”

  “Nah.” He glanced at the building behind him, a square establishment at the edge of a row of other hotels. “They had to usher people around, take pictures—we’re fine. I’ve been to a great many weddings. Trust me, I know what I’m doing.”

  She smiled at his teasing tone, starting when he put his warm hands on her shoulders, a stark contrast to the chill of the air. It wasn’t until they were turning into the parking lot that she’d realized she’d also forgotten her wrap. She was horribly unprepared for this.

  “Stop groaning,” he whispered, stepping a little closer. Invading her space. “It’ll be fine.”

  Another deep breath later, she nodded. “It’s not like this really matters, anyway. He has no impact on my life.”

  “Exactly, but it’ll still feel good to rub his face in it.”

  She laughed and felt like leaning into his comforting warmth. Letting him wrap those big arms around her and hug her close.

  As if reading her mind, he enveloped her in his arms, his body so warm and hard and grounding…and exquisite smelling. Closing her eyes, she slipped her hands into his jacket and around his middle, taking a moment to be cocooned by this strong man who would hopefully take on the world for her so she didn’t have to. She just didn’t feel up to it.

  “Are you ready to get used to my touching you?” His voice rumbled deep in his chest, sending pleasant shivers through her body.

  “Since this is touching, I’m a little nervous about what you might mean. Fucking me on the cake table needs to wait until all else is lost.”

  His hands flattened on her back. “This is what it feels like when a stranger almost gropes you.” His humor eased her nerves, but did nothing to dismiss the fierce shivers that raced across her body when his hands slid down her bare skin. Heat licked at her center as his hands continued their downward course, at the small of her back now and not stopping. She closed her eyes as his fingertips skimmed the swell of her butt. Her core tightened painfully. His hands stopped traveling.

  “You can touch my butt this once,” she said in a heavy voice she barely recognized. “Just in case you need to mark your territory, or whatever.”

  Mark your territory? What had possessed her to say that?

  But as his hands slid lower and cupped her butt cheeks, that fire straight burned through her middle. His light squeeze pushed a moan from her lips.

  “That okay?” he asked softly, his breath falling across her cheek. All she’d have to do was turn a little and claim those shapely lips.

  She nodded desperately, afraid to speak lest her desire hijack her mouth and give him highly inappropriate instructions.

  He pulled away and his ha
nds slid up the sides of her body before roaming over her collarbone and heading downward. She thought—hoped—he was going to cup her breasts, but at the last moment his hands parted and glided back down her sides, landing on her waist. He turned her around and pulled her against his front before encircling her waist with his arms, his fingers splayed across her stomach, just barely glancing the underside of a breast.

  “You are really, really good at touching,” she murmured, eyes still closed, knowing this was probably super gross—touching was his job—but not able to care.

  A thought drifted through her consciousness, lazy but alive. I should’ve paid for the night…

  “We should go in,” she said in a breathy voice. She had to end this now, or she might find herself asking him to bring this upstairs.

  “You’re comfortable?”

  “Yes, I’m comfortable.” Understatement!

  His hands came away and she drifted forward, light as air. Horny as all hell.

  The chill greeted her, wiping away the incredible warmth from a moment before. Bittersweet. She needed to clear her head, but putting distance between them seemed like a sad way to do it.

  “I suppose you’ll be fine with my reciprocation,” she said, smoothing her dress.

  “Yes.” His deep, rough tone sent honey dripping down her spine and pooling in her core. His intense gaze drilled into her, imploring. As though he were lost, and begging her to help him find his way back.

  She shook her head and looked away. That was absurd. She was projecting, obviously. If anyone was lost, it was her. The ghost of his touch still roamed her body, puckering her nipples.

  He stuck out his arm for her to take. His body language was suddenly tense. Rigid. And when they started walking, his movements screamed angry. His coarse stride lacked the powerful grace he’d had before. A crease formed between his brows.

  “You okay?” she asked, suddenly unsure. Had she gone too far somehow? Acted too into it? “I won’t touch your junk or anything. Or butt, even.”

  “Are you cold? Do you want my jacket?”

  “Oh. No, I’m okay.”

  “Strap on that confidence you found in college,” Colton murmured as they neared the open doors of the building.

  They made their way through the hotel, following the signs, and found the banquet room. Within the dimmed room, she could see the outline of flowers and people slowly wandering. They hadn’t taken their places for dinner, which was a good sign. Colton had been right about the timing.

  The truth about his profession weaseled into her thoughts, reminding her why he’d been right.

  She fought the sudden impulse to jerk her hand from his arm. Now was not the time. She wasn’t paying him for sex; she was paying him to escort her. Plain and simple. She needed him.

  A podium covered in flowers stood sentinel beside the door for no apparent reason. More flowers adorned a table to the right, where a book lay open, silently begging guests to write a happy sentiment about the newlyweds. A couple walked toward them, the guy—about Madison’s age—wearing a badly fitting suit that brought attention to his large stomach, and the woman stuffed into a short, shiny dress of horrible quality. It ungraciously showed off every lump and unplanned curve of her body.

  “Her dressmaker should be shot,” she whispered, going slow to get the lay of the land. She hated bursting into places unaware. A girl needed to know what was going to come at her. “Or, at the very least, hunted down and stabbed in the eye with that really uncomfortable shoe I left in your car.”

  Colton barked out laugher, drawing the couple’s gazes. The man hunched a little, lowering his eyes quickly. In contrast, the woman’s eyes widened, taking Colton in like he was a rare feast. Madison was the next object of her narrow-eyed scrutiny. They passed and exited the doors.

  “So this is what it’s like to go places with an outrageously handsome man.” Madison let go of his arm when he dropped it, then jumped when she felt his hand curve around her waist.

  “Not so comfortable after all, then?” he teased. His arm tightened, pulling her closer to his body. “And thank you.”

  “For what?” She surveyed the sparse interior, filled with surprisingly few guests. It dawned on her. The bar wasn’t in the room.

  “Your compliment. Shall we find our table first? I’d like to take off my jacket.”

  “That wasn’t a compliment, it was a statement of fact. And yes, good idea. I can put my clutch down.” She let him steer her through the sea of tables displaying their centerpieces like proud peacocks. A buffet with steaming stainless steel trays lined the right wall, out way too early, and probably drying all the food inside. A row of place settings lined a table at the back, clearly for the wedding party. The dance floor and a curtained stage were to the left, and the corner featured a photo booth and an uncomfortably small perch for a videographer.

  “I hate weddings,” Madison murmured as they strolled—she frantically looking for her name, and he taking in the people. “There. A back table. Good.”

  “We’ll be with the mismatched add-ons.” Colton scanned a group of people chatting near the dance floor. One by one, they returned his notice and then spread their gazes to her. Soon everyone had stopping talking.

  “It is your job to tell me when my makeup runs, or my hair goes whack, or my boob falls out,” Madison whispered frantically. “And one of those things is probably happening right now, because everyone is staring.”

  “They are staring because you’re beautiful and I own this room.”

  “That enormous ego must come in handy.” She broke away from him and lowered her head, trying to avoid all the attention. She looked over her place setting, took out her phone—ignoring a check-in message from Janie—and grabbed some cash for drinks. Colton wrapped his jacket around the back of his seat, a folding chair draped in a slipcover. She straightened, cash in hand, contemplating the problem of having no pockets or bra to put it in. She couldn’t take the clutch or it might ruin the effect of her outfit.

  “Do you want to get a drink? I wouldn’t advise sitting down yet,” he said.

  She faced him and stepped close, suddenly cloaked in his fabulous smell and getting an eyeful of his biceps straining a tight dress shirt. His pecs bulged against the fabric.

  Another lazy thought curled through her brain. I would love to see that naked.

  “I need you to take my cash, and use it to by me drinks and stuff, okay? Like it’s yours.” She smiled up into his face like a lover and leaned against his stomach with the wad of cash between them.

  “You would’ve been a horrible private eye,” he said, his sweet breath dusting her eyelashes. He returned her smile and his eyes dipped to her mouth. “Put your cash away.”

  “Like…in your pocket away? Because I have nowhere else to put it.”

  “Back in your clutch. I’ll take care of drinks.”

  “I don’t think they give receipts, so remembering what to put on my bill—”

  “Stop stressing.” He ran his hands down her arms and slid them to her back, squeezing her into his hard body. Her hands were still wedged between them, making things awkward.

  “I wouldn’t be stressing if you would just do as you’re told. Take this cash.” She wiggled her fist against his stomach.

  “Fuck off.”

  Giggles bubbled out of her middle. She sagged against him in defeat and rested her chin on his chest. “You’re annoying.”

  “I can already tell that you’ll love that trait best about me.”

  “Doubtful.” She pushed away and did as he said. Straightening up again, she tapped her temple. “I will remember every drink we ingest.”

  “I doubt it.” He reached out his hand, fingers splayed.

  “This seems”—she threaded her fingers between his and let him reel her in—“overkill.”

  “Drink?”

  “Are the words coming out of my mouth actually silent, and I’m the only one who doesn’t know it?”

  “Dri
nk?” he repeated.

  She laughed and leaned against his arm. “Yes, please.”

  They walked slowly, Colton setting the pace, leaving the reception area and working their way back out into the hotel bar area. It wasn’t far distance-wise, but it would divide the guests when it came time for dancing.

  The bar was discolored and painted with spotty varnish. Old and cracked barstools were pushed close together, more than a few leaning precariously. Tables lined a far wall, many taken by wedding goers.

  “Not a great venue,” Madison said quietly, looking around. It made her feel a little better, as superficial as that was.

  “This is a frugal wedding, which I generally support, if you’re going to have one at all, but this setup is clearly all they could afford. They would’ve been better off saving the money for a house.” Colton directed her to an unoccupied corner of the bar. “Would you like a seat?” He rested his hand on the back of a wobbly chair.

  “I think I’ll stand. My luck, it’ll break and spill me onto the floor.”

  “What would you like to drink?”

  “A cocktail of some kind. I don’t care.”

  “You’re not very fussy, are you?” He leaned against the bar and brought her in closer until she was touching his side.

  “I’m fussy about some things. A drink while in this situation isn’t one of those things. I don’t want to bother thinking about it. Give me something Janie would choose.”

  “How about something I would choose?”

  “Whatever. So you’re not the marrying kind, huh?”

  Colton shifted to flag down the bartender and ordered before settling again, pulling her in. She had no choice but to rest her shoulder against his chest, dropping her hand to his hip. His palm rested high on her butt, below the predetermined “safe zone.” If not for the furious tingles it was sending through her, she might’ve moved it.

  “No one our age shows off being in love this much, Colton,” she murmured, doing everything she could not to look around the bar to see if anyone was buying it. She didn’t want to deal with the embarrassment of their disbelief.