Chapter Six
Nic
Elle and I are seated at a table near the front, a little to the right of the wedding party’s table. The servers are milling around us, taking away our salad plates and replacing them with entrées. Elle has the chicken option, while it looks like Christine picked the beef for me.
Perfect.
“Can I get you something to drink?” the server asks as he sets my plate in front of me.
I glance at my now-empty champagne flute from earlier and shake my head. My one-drink rule is going to be even more crucial now that I know I clearly have a hard time controlling myself around Elle.
And who can blame me? She’s unbearably sexy in that dress. I should have picked the other one. Not that it would have made that big a difference because she’s got curves in all the right places, and neither of those dresses would have left much to my imagination. The creamy swell of her ample breasts is visible above the neckline, and while the hem is modest and drops to her knees, I know exactly the kind of hourglass figure she’s hiding beneath those layers of chiffon.
Down, boy.
“What about you, miss?” The server turns to Elle, who cocks her head to the side for a moment, looking at me as she tries to decide.
“Don’t let me stop you from having a good time,” I say, flashing her a casual smile.
“You’re really going to make me drink alone?” She swats my arm with the back of her hand, her expression playful.
My arm tingles where she hit it, not because it hurt, but because I’m suddenly so aware of every time our bodies touch. When I position my body toward her, our knees brush, and I allow my fingers to graze hers.
“Everyone here is drinking like there’s no tomorrow. I’d hardly call that drinking alone. Besides, I need to keep my wits about me around you, beautiful.”
A blush spreads across her cheeks, moving down her neck and dangerously close to her cleavage. It takes every ounce of my self-control not to take a good look at just how close it gets.
Elle raises a challenging eyebrow at me before turning to flash a smile at the waiter. “I’ll have another glass of champagne, please.”
The waiter nods and walks away, moving around the table to take drink orders from other guests.
“After all . . .” Elle looks me in the eye and crosses her legs so her calf rubs fully against my leg. “This is a celebration, isn’t it?”
Fuck. This is going to be much more difficult than I thought.
After dinner, the maid of honor and best man give their speeches, and there’s hardly a dry eye in the room. When I notice Elle dabbing at her eyes with the back of her hand, I give her another tissue from my jacket pocket and she laughs, shaking her head at how prepared I am.
What can I say? I’m a professional.
After the toasts, the dancing begins, and I pull Elle out on the dance floor with me. Not that she needs much persuading. She had another glass of champagne with her dessert, and she’s clearly feeling it.
The DJ plays a few good upbeat songs, and the two of us find our rhythm easily, our bodies moving in sync. It’s perfect. Too perfect. And that can only mean amazing things about what our bodies could do with no clothes on.
Just as the playlist slows down, the mood shifting to something more sensual, Christine walks over and clamps her hand firmly on my forearm.
“Can I steal him for a sec?” she asks Elle. Her tone is light and cheery, but her grip on my arm tells me something is wrong.
“Just be sure to bring him back in one piece,” Elle replies with a wink.
“I promise. Besides, my husband was wanting to dance with his sister, so I thought this was the perfect opportunity for us to swap.”
Christine forces a laugh and jerks me away. I smile calmly to Elle and mentally prepare myself for whatever new element is about to be added to this job. Good thing I stuck to my one-drink rule.
She leads me to a small hallway around the corner from the dance floor, where the volume is a bit lower and the lighting slightly dimmer. Christine finally releases my arm, facing me straight on, her shoulders squared with mine. Although she’s still in her pretty white wedding gown, she definitely looks ready for battle. Before she even opens her mouth to speak, her body language says it all. She’s pissed.
“Elle wants to sleep with you tonight,” Christine says, her tone warning.
Well, shit. I raise my eyebrows. “Okay . . .”
“I just want to make it clear that that’s not what I’m paying for. Plus, I’m sure it costs extra.”
She’s not wrong. Sex does cost extra. Part of me wants to respond with something witty, but it’s clear she’s upset, and I’m not about to be the man who makes a woman feel worse. Especially on her wedding day.
“Things won’t get that far. You don’t need to worry, Christine. I’m a professional.” I keep my tone calm and relaxed, trying to exude as much confidence as possible.
But on the inside? I have no idea how I’ll manage to say no to Elle. Not when all I really want to do is to pull her into this hallway and pound her into a wall.
Suddenly, it hits me. Elle told Christine she wants to sleep with me. That’s the only reason we’re having this conversation right now.
A small smile crosses my lips. So she does want me. Bad. It’s not like she’s the first woman in the world to do so. But Elle’s different. For some reason, knowing she’s itching to jump my bones means a whole lot more than the other women who pay for it.
Christine seems to watch my thought process cross my face, and her eyes narrow. “Things are going a little too well, if you ask me,” she mutters. She crosses her arms and stands up straighter, challenging me.
“Sorry I’m so good at my job.” I chuckle.
Her face darkens. “Yes, but Elle doesn’t know it’s a job, asshole. This is real for her. You have to be careful. I swear to God, if you hurt her, I will end you.”
With that, Christine turns and marches away, her wedding dress rustling with the movement. The venom in her voice lingers in the air around me. And it stings. Worse than I thought it would.
Of course, I knew going into this that Elle was just a job. But from the moment I met her, everything felt different. It never felt like work. This wasn’t me on my best, most dazzling behavior trying to impress some rich cougar. This was me just being myself, having fun with a girl close to my own age.
And now that I know she’s attracted to me, that she wants me too? Everything is even more complicated.
It’s against company policy to sleep with clients who aren’t paying for it. Mixing business and pleasure is a huge no-no in our line of work. It’s normal for things to get confusing for our clients—they’re the ones who forget they’re paying for it while it happens. But for me? The fact that I’m working needs to always be at the forefront of my mind.
I have to say no to Elle. It’s the right thing to do. But turning down sex with a beautiful woman, the kind of woman who makes me wish I’d met her under any other circumstance, who reminds me of the kind of man I want to be one day? Yeah, that’s not going to be an easy thing to do. I haven’t had sex just for pleasure in a long time. Probably at least a year. God, that’s fucking depressing to think about.