Title: Professional Distance (Thorne and Dash #1)
Author Name: Silvia Violet
Publication Date & Length: November 28, 2015 – 242 pgs
Thornwell Shipton is wealthy, uptight, closeted, and an incurable workaholic. A tragic love affair left him terrified of relationships, so he tells himself sex is better scheduled and paid for.
Riley Dashwood is young, easy-going, and comfortable in his own skin. He’s a passionate baker and an aspiring chef, working as an escort to save up for culinary school.
They’re clearly made for each other.
When Thorne hires Dash, it’s lust at first sight. After a few scorching nights together, both men start to wonder if what’s between them is more than physical, but their age gap and resistance to romance make them afraid to change their professional relationship to a personal one. Dash pushes Thorne to admit he wants things he’s denied himself for years. Kinky things. Soft, caring things. Things that force him to open his heart, not just his body. To move forward, one or the other must take a risk and ask for what he really wants.
This book was so good!
With this book you get Thornwell “Thorne” who is a workaholic who must always be in control unless it is in the bedroom which is why he pays for a escort to come rake care of his needs. Well the one he usually pays for has retired so he gets someone new.
Dash “Riley” is a aspiring baker who is only being a escort to pay for his schooling. Well he is also very good at what he does and instantly attracts Thorns attention which slowly starts to move to caring and love.
There is angst in this book along with so much steam which was so hot!!!
I loved the way this author wrote these characters and the pretense of this story. Also I loved the age gap between these two MC’s in this book!
So I do not want to spoil any of this book for anyone else so I will leave this review with I really loved this book! It was just so sweet but at the same time so hot!!
Thorne’s intercom buzzed. “A Mr. Dash is here to see you. He says he’s expected.
Shall I send him up?”
“Yes, Je-Michaels, thank you.” Michaels had only been working as a doorman in Thorne’s building for a few weeks, yet Thorne had lost count of the number of times he’d almost called the man Jeeves. Michaels’ British accent and starched appearance simply begged for it. Years ago he’d loved to watch and re-watch the Masterpiece Theatre version of Wodehouse’s Jeeves and Wooster, with Clint, his—boyfriend was certainly not right, even lover didn’t fit—boss. His boss whom he’d occasionally fucked. Now, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d watched anything but videos of junior consultants’ meetings.
Two crisp knocks at the door signaled that Dash had made the long elevator ride to his penthouse apartment.
Thorne’s pulse sped up. He resented how very much he needed this respite from work, these moments where he actually let go of all his clients’ woes and indulged himself. Yet he kept paying for it, every week that he was in town. He imagined being fucked roughly, hands held down, as Dash whispered dirty words in his ear. By the time Thorne reached the door, he was already hard. Dash damn well better work out; but whether or not Thorne requested him to come back, he was going to get fucked tonight.
He checked the peephole out of habit, although Michaels and the other doormen were quite strict about checking credentials before allowing anyone in the building. The young man standing at Thorne’s door appeared to be in his early twenties, as were most of the service’s employees. He had dirty-blond hair that curled loosely and was longer than he could have worn it if he’d worked in Thorne’s office. His hazel eyes had a mischievous look to them that held promise. His smile, however, wasn’t at all what Thorne was expecting. It was fresh and sunny and it reached his eyes, a true smile, like he was meeting a friend, not conducting illicit business.
Quit trying to read so much into him. This isn’t a business meeting where you have to size up the clients. It’s a fucking hook-up that you paid for.
Thorne opened the door.
“Mr. Shipton?” the boy asked.
Thorne nodded and stepped back so Dash could enter.
“I’m Dash; Sheila told me you were a client of Marc’s.” Dash lifted the strap of the messenger bag he carried over his head and sat the bag against the wall in the entryway.
“That’s right,” Thorne answered. “He suited my needs perfectly.”
“And you think I won’t?”
Fuck. Was he that transparent or was this kid that good? “What I think is that the rapport I had with Marc was hard to find.”
“He’s a switch and a damn good one.” Dash’s look said he knew that from personal experience.
“So am I.” Dash smiled, and Thorne reacted as if he’d wrapped his hand around Thorne’s dick.
Thorne’s gaze moved down Dash’s body. He was shorter than Marc, who’d matched Thorne’s six feet, maybe five feet nine or five feet ten. His body was lean but not without muscle. If Thorne had to guess, he’d say Dash was a runner. His tight black pants clung to his body, giving the impression he had a rather nice package.
“Shall I make you a drink while we discuss exactly what you’d like tonight?” Dash asked, wandering toward the kitchen.
It took a few seconds for the words to register in Thorne’s brain. Dash was…hot, fucking hot. But there was something else about him, something Thorne couldn’t define, that had Thorne salivating to get him naked and in bed. If Thorne believed in anything as hokey as “auras,” he would’ve said Dash had a powerful one. Thorne pushed the thought away, disgusted. Too much work and too little sex must have fried his brain.
He’d been so busy that week he hadn’t even found time to jerk off.“I don’t need a drink, and I don’t want to talk.”
Dash grinned and propped himself against the bar in the kitchen area, cocking his hip out. The pose was obviously calculated to make Thorne appreciate his slim waist.
“That eager, huh?”
“I realize some people hire escorts for companionship. They want to know someone is listening to them. I’m sick of talking: to clients, to employees, to fucking airport desk agents. I don’t need you to pretend to be my friend. I need to be fucked.”
“Sure of that, are you?” Dash asked, walking around the bar and entering the kitchen.
Silvia Violet writes fun, sexy stories that will leave you smiling and satisfied. She has a thing for characters who are in need of comfort and enjoys helping them surrender to love even when they doubt it exists. Silvia’s stories include sizzling contemporaries, paranormals, and historicals. When she needs a break from listening to the voices in her head, she spends time baking, taking long walks, and curling up with her favorite books. Keep up with her latest ventures by signing up for her newsletter: http://silviaviolet.com/newsletter.