Boyfriend for Hire

Six

NicElle 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 ex- actly the kind of hourglass figure she’s hiding be- neath 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 to- morrow. I’d hardly call that drinking alone. Be-

sides, 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 cleav- age. 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 an- other 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 feel- ing it.

The DJ plays a few good upbeat songs, and the two of us find our rhythm easily, our bodies mov- ing 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 shift- ing 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 cor- ner 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,” Chris- tine 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 man- age 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, chal- lenging 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, every- thing felt different. It never felt like work. This wasn’t me on my best, most dazzling behavior try- ing 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 com- plicated.

It’s against company policy to sleep with cli- ents 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.

But I definitely can’t take Elle to bed without

her knowing the score.

I return to the dance floor to find Elle danc- ing with her mom. We make eye contact and she smiles, her whole face lighting up at the sight of me. Guess she isn’t going to make this easy on me.

I make my way toward her, slip my hand around her waist, and lean closer to bring my lips to her ear. “Can I get you something to drink?”

She nods, taking my hand in hers and swaying her hips. We dance our way over to the bar, where I grab her another glass of champagne, and we con- tinue dancing.

If I thought Elle was sexy just standing around and talking, dancing with her is a whole other ball game. The way she moves her hips drives me cra- zy, and it doesn’t take long for her to start rubbing up against me, her arms swaying above her head while she moves her ass over the front of my pants.

Hello, hard dick.

Not helpful.

Slowly, she turns to face me, our mouths only inches apart. Her big blue eyes travel over my face,

landing on my lips, and she places her hands on my chest. I need to strategically adjust what’s happen- ing in my pants before I give myself away.

“Want to get some air?” Her breath is hot on my skin.

I nod and take her hand, leading her to the bal- cony. I guess balconies are becoming our thing.

“So, when you were little, did you imagine yourself going into this line of work?”

Her question is innocent enough, but for a mo- ment, I freeze. Then I remember—she thinks I work in finance. My shoulders relax, and I flash her a smile.

“Not exactly. When I was five, I wanted to be a

lion tamer. Probably not very realistic.”

A grin stretches across her face. “Were you

afraid of lions when you were five?”

“The Lion King was my favorite movie, so I guess not.”

We laugh, and Elle leans toward me, our bod- ies dangerously close to touching. It wouldn’t take much to close the distance between us, one of us to make first contact. Just a few more inches, and we’ll be kissing.

But I can’t. I have rules for a reason.

“What about you? What did you want to be when you grow up?”

She sighs and leans against the railing, pushing a hand through her long auburn hair. “I’ve always wanted to be a lawyer,” she says, looking over the railing at the landscape below. “I went through law school and everything, but never had the guts to take the bar exam. It’s too daunting. And I can’t bear the thought of failing it. So yeah, I’m just a paralegal.”

My stomach clenches. Of course she’s brilliant. It makes me like her even more. “I think you’d make a great lawyer. You’ve already won me over.”

Whoa, whoa, whoa. Get a hold of yourself, Nic.

A small smile passes over her lips. “I don’t know about that. But thank you. It’s nice to hear you say that.”

She looks up at me then, her eyes wide and searching. I’m lost in them, lost in their deep, blue expanse, when she opens her mouth and says something I didn’t expect to hear.

“Where did you come from?”

The wistfulness in her voice catches me off

guard, almost matched by the yearning in her eyes. They’re boring into me, hitting me in a place I haven’t been hit in a long time—right square in the chest.

Suddenly, everything else fades away. My job, Christine, Case, my rules. None of that matters anymore. I know what I want.

Fuck the rules.

I bring my hand to her face, cradling her cheek in my palm, and pull her toward me. Her skin is so soft, I can hardly stand it. Elle tilts her head as I bring my lips to hers, and for a moment, I hold her there, our lips only a bit apart, so I can feel her breath on my skin. Her eyes close just as our mouths meet, and she practically melts in my arms.

The moment our lips touch, everything seems right. She has the softest lips I’ve ever tasted, and when they part, I sweep my tongue inside. With growing confidence, I increase the pressure, seal- ing my mouth over hers. Elle makes a low mur- mured sound of approval, and her hands move to my biceps.

It’s in that moment that I lose my shit. Keeping one hand on her chin, I press the other against her lower back and use it to bring her even closer. I’m

sure she can feel what she’s done to me, but in that moment, I don’t care.

Her full breasts are crushed against my chest, and I can feel her heart hammering fast. The sensa- tion of her tongue tasting mine makes me feel so light-headed and filled with need, I can’t help the husky noise that rumbles in the back of my throat. Amazed, I pull back to meet her eyes.

She’s fucking perfect. This woman is perfect.

Everything about the past two nights has been perfect.

And I’m totally fucked.