Thunder - Willow Summers Page 0,19
body and lick it off before fucking you on the cake table. How’s that?”
Her body shook with silent laughter. “At least we’ll make a scene.”
“Exactly. We’ll steal the show.”
“Steal their thunder, as it were. Now I know why the fates picked you, Mr. Zeus.”
Colton turned into the shopping center and lucked out with a space right up front. “He was in charge of lightning bolts, I think.”
“Zeus’s mostly forgotten brother, then. Lionel.”
“Lionel?” He laughed as he got out of the car and quickly headed over to her side to get her door. “Can’t I just stick with Thunder?”
Smiling up at him, she took his hand and let him pull her up. “Zeus isn’t called Firebolt, is he? No. He has a proper name. A godly name.”
“And Lionel is my new godly name?”
“Why do you think you’re the forgotten brother?” She laughed helplessly, threading her hand through the little strap on her clutch. “Oh, how far you’ve fallen, from Thunder to Lionel. Your boss will not be pleased.”
“I don’t know—you tried to pick Sam, so maybe I still have a shot.”
“Doubtful.” She shut her door and reached out. “Do you mind if I use you as a walker? I’m sure I can manage, but you just never know. As you saw.”
“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