Can't Touch This Page 7

  Visa (my marmalade bitch of a cat) took off down the cramped corridor in utmost disgust and betrayal. I’d brought animals home from the practice before—especially those who needed through the night care—but she never accepted sharing her space with foreigners.

  I’d named her after a joke with Polly when a few weeks into our degree, I had a craving to hold a live happy pet after dissecting cold dead ones. I had no money—my education was on a loan, my rent was on a grant from the university, even my food was on the credit card.

  It was very unwise to even contemplate more expense with a living breathing liability. But when we’d passed a pet shop with one tiny orange kitten pressing its wet nose against the glass, I couldn’t resist.

  When they asked how I was paying for her, I said what I always did ‘put it on the Visa.’

  It kind of stuck.

  “Well, this is different to what I expected.” Ryder glanced around the small second-story apartment. Instead of looking disgusted at my mess from the past few days as I worked overtime and didn’t have time to clean, he merely grabbed an old jumper on the floor and rolled it into a sausage to wrap around the dogs so they had a little bed with sides.

  Seriously, who is this guy?

  I didn’t care at all that he’d used my jumper without permission; all I cared about was how kind he was to those who needed help.

  And now, he’d turned that helpful kindness onto me.

  Stalking toward me, he splayed his hands as if I was about to bolt like a terrified pony. “I’m not gonna touch you, but I do think you should go for a warm bath. It’s best to sweat out the chill and let yourself relax.” He frowned. “You do have a bath, right?”

  I backed away, betraying myself with looking at the small bathroom down the corridor. “Yes, and no you may not see it.”

  The mess in there from the toothpaste disaster I had this morning would make me die of mortification.

  He gave me a look then took off down the corridor.

  “Hey!” Before I could stop him, he swung open the door and laughed. “What the hell happened in here? It looks like a mint crime scene.”

  I groaned, stumbling after him. “The tube was blocked and I squirted too hard.” I cringed as I looked over his shoulder. The single basin and tiny mirror wore massive globs of mint swirled toothpaste.

  “Ah, the good ole’ exploding paste routine.” He chuckled. “I’ve had that happen before.”

  “You have?”

  “Of course.” He nodded. “Come on. Don’t worry about it.” Grabbing some toilet paper (thankfully, the loo was clean), he scooped up the mess and threw it into the trash. “Now that the crime scene is clean, let’s focus on you.”

  Looking at me in the mirror, the intensity in his hazel eyes made my cheeks warm and another explosive sneeze to hurl me backward into the corridor.

  This wasn’t fair.

  Here he was—drop dead gorgeous and so sweet—standing sexually tempting in my apartment. Meanwhile, I couldn’t see through watery eyes and barely concentrate through a fever and pounding head.

  I pulled out my ponytail, massaging the back of my nape. “Why are you doing this? Just being near me might make you sick.”

  He’d been in my car for fifteen minutes driving me home, and stood close to me while washing the Chiweenies. Could he already be sick? Was the flu contagious at the very start of symptoms or after a few days?

  I don’t know.

  I was a vet not a doctor.

  Ryder never stopped staring, making me uncomfortable and hotter than I could stand. “Don’t worry about why. Just let me do it.” Turning around, he fumbled with the taps in the bath, wrenching on hot water.

  He’s going to wash me like the Chiweenies.

  I dug my fingers into my eye sockets, trying to get a grip on how ill I felt. I didn’t want to miss this. Ryder Carson might never want to come near me again after seeing me at my worst. I wanted to remember this, dangnamit.

  Water splashing in the bath was suddenly followed by the sounds of bath salts being poured into the wet warmth.

  Wait, how did he—

  Did he just rummage through my cupboards? The vanilla bath salts were tucked beneath the sink—next to a super saver box of tampons and an unopened bottle of lube.

  Holy crap, kill me now.

  “Can you please just forget everything you’ve seen tonight?” I hung my head in my hands.

  Ryder laughed beneath his breath. “You mean the apocalypse worth of tampons and the dusty, out-of-date lubricant?”

  “Ugh, yes that. Also, please delete the sniffling, stuffed-up vet who would really like you to go home and leave her in peace.”

  “Leave?” He clutched his heart. “Man, you know how to hurt a guy.”

  I blinked. “You’re telling me you don’t want to run a mile after seeing my messy apartment and—”

  He came forward, a sultry but sweet smile on his face. “I’m not forgetting a thing about tonight. I have a feeling you like to be in control of everything in your life. This might be the only time I’m allowed to boss you around and do what I want without you calling the police.”

  Damn, he nailed me.

  His hands came up, cupping my cheeks with warm, soft fingers. “Vesper, you’re sick. You live alone. What sort of person would I be if I judged you on how many tampons you have?” He swallowed a smirk, his thumbs caressing my feverish cheekbones. “After all, you might use them for other hobbies such as flower arranging or cat toys.”

  He cocked his head. “You have to admit, the round cotton with its little string is the perfect mouse for whatever orange fluff ball that ran into your bedroom.”

  I couldn’t do it.

  Not only had he taken away my embarrassment, he’d made a joke that made my knees wobbly which had nothing to do with my shakes.

  “God, what are we doing?” I swayed forward. “Why are you being nice to me?”

  “Why?” Ryder let go of my face, guiding me to his chest where I rested my heavy forehead for a moment. His delicate breathing tickled my scalp as he ran his hands down my sides, lingering on my hipbones before pushing me away. “I thought it was obvious.”

  My throat scratched painfully as he whispered, “I like you, Vesper.”

  Is it possible for a heart to self-implode?

  Because I think mine just did.

  Clearing his throat from the build-up of wanton lust, he murmured, “And what we’re doing is getting you better so we can argue and flirt and get on each other’s nerves some more. You still owe me that date—I’ll let you get out of it tonight, but then it’s time to pay up.”

  It took a Hulk sized effort not to ask him just how much he liked me or go all shy like the school girl inside me wanted to do. I forced a laugh. “When you put it that way…I might stay sick for a while.”

  He pinched my thigh. “Not allowed. Now, get your ass into the bath.” He bent closer, bringing rich scents of wood and sunshine. “Unless…you need help?” His gaze dropped to my chest. “I’m happy to get you naked.”

  He blatantly checked me out, his jaw clenching as he swallowed. “It wouldn’t be a hardship to peel you out of those scrubs, unhook your bra, pull down your—” He cut himself off, his eyes blazing with desire. “Let’s just say, I’d fucking love to see you naked. I’d even keep my hands to myself—only to guide you safely into the bath.”

  His voice dropped an octave as desire cycloned stronger. “Can’t be too careful with how woozy you feel.”

  His hand came up—I didn’t know if it was to cup my suddenly aching breast or to hold me steady as I swooned into him.

  Either way, I took a blundering step backward. “Naked is not something you’re going to see.”

  His face darkened. “Ever?”

  I softened. “Maybe.”

  I’m lying out of my ass.

  If I wasn’t sick, I would drag him into that vanilla scented bath with me. I’d had enough of my dry spell and Ryder got to me like cat-nip got to
Visa.

  “Is this more of a ‘you show me yours then I’ll show you mine’ kinda deal?” His fingers teased his paint dotted t-shirt. “I’m happy to stand here starkers. Fuck, you’d be doing me a favour if you let me get out of these jeans.” His hand dropped between his legs. “My cock hasn’t stopped throbbing since I saw how awesomely practical you are by bulk buying tampons.”

  I swatted him. “Ugh, you’re unbelievable.”

  He ducked. “And you’re bloody addicting.” Letting the outline of his erection go, he dragged both hands through his hair. “Okay, enough. If you flirt with me anymore, I’m going to push you against that wall and fuck you. And that would be bad because I have morals and seducing a sick vet goes against that code.” He groaned long and low. “Even though I really, really, really want to fuck you, Vesper.”

  My eyes bugged as a rush of wetness filled my knickers.

  Flu or no flu.

  Do it. Take me. Oh my God, just do me.

  Taking a step back, he splayed his hands in surrender. “One last time, do you need help getting naked and into the bath?”

  For a second, I paused. Screw my aching sinuses and cloudy synapses. If he wanted to get it on with a flu-addled, sleep-befuddled, debt-drowning, micro-managing woman, who was I to stop him? But then common sense hit me around the back of the head.

  If I slept with him.

  When I slept with him. I wanted to remember every detail, every taste, every freckle, and kiss.

  Patience was a virtue, even though my pussy and nipples had turned siege on me and become mortal enemies.

  Pinching the brow of my nose, I did my best to ignore my sexual frustration. “Definitely not required. You’ve done more than enough.” I coughed. “You can leave now. Thanks for everything.”

  Steam curled from the bathroom behind him, reminding me that it’d been over a year since I’d had a bath and that was only because I’d sprained my back lifting a Bulldog onto the inspection table.

  I didn’t know how to…relax.

  Living alone meant I didn’t like to be quiet. It felt lazy. If I wasn’t watching a guilty episode of Netflix, I was researching new drugs, or reading studies online for new treatments.

  There was nothing else in my life but veterinary.

  It’s sad really.

  Until Ryder wise-cracked and insulted his way into it.

  “Okay, then.” Stepping from the small space and encroaching on mine in the corridor, Ryder smiled—unsuccessfully hiding the desire still bright in his eyes. “Let the water run and then climb in. I’m going to see what food you have.”

  Holy crap, he’d almost given me an orgasm just by talking to me, cared enough to overlook my mess and run me a bath, and now wanted to cook for me?

  I need to marry this man.

  Either that, or kidnap him and keep him in my basement so no one else could steal him.

  You don’t have a basement.

  Drat!

  Reaching out, I latched my fingers around his wrist as he pushed off back to the lounge. It was the first time I’d touched him and my fingers erupted with sensation as his pulse thundered beneath soft skin.

  I forgot what I was going to say.

  “You do have food, right?” Ryder asked softly, his gaze flicking from where I held him and back to my eyes. Once again, lust swirled like ribbons, tying us tighter and tighter together.

  Swallowing, I shook my head. “Unfortunately no.”

  “Nothing?”

  “Nope.”

  He frowned. “You’re a vet; you know the importance of eating right.”

  “Wrong, I’m a small business owner who has way too much on her plate to think about cooking three square meals every day.” Even though I didn’t want to, I let his wrist go. “Seriously, just go home. I’ve got it from here.”

  Go, before I do something embarrassing like dry hump your leg for being so perfect.

  Somehow, he’d erased all his rude comments and impatient quips over the past few months, and replaced it with this caring, sexy individual.

  Or was that the flu?

  Was I in danger of losing brain cells just by admitting I had a crush on this man?

  A crush?

  Please…it’d mushroomed into obsession.

  “I’m not leaving you to starve.” He scowled as decisions came and went. “Can I use your car?”

  “You’ve already stolen my keys and driven it once. Now you’re asking for permission?”

  He smiled. “Looks that way.”

  I cocked my head. “Why? Why do you want to use it?”

  He strode to the couch and tickled the Chiweenies before heading toward the front door. “Food, of course. If I’m gonna play nursemaid, I need some substance.”

  Before I could tell him to shove his nursemaid routine, take his dogs, and leave me alone before he made my ovaries explode, the door slammed behind him and I was alone.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ---------------------

  Ryder

  “CASH OR CREDIT?”

  “Cash.” I handed over a wad that I normally divided between the workmen on a Friday night, so they had some beer money at the pub as a bonus for working hard. Guess today they’d have to go without, seeing as I hadn’t been back home since early this morning.

  Those poor Chiweenies and that shitty human being who’d hurt them.

  The clerk handed me my change and receipt, and I wheeled the cart from the small grocery store five minutes from Vesper’s house to her beaten up, crappy car. The girl really needed to invest in her life as well as her business.

  She didn’t live in the best part of town, she drove a rusty bucket, and had no food in her fridge.

  No wonder she was sick.

  But she’s not your responsibility.

  That was true, and the moment she was over the worst, I’d leave her to fend for herself.

  I wanted to get her into bed. I wanted to find out where the connection between us could go. But I also didn’t want to push my luck and seem like an arrogant jackass.

  I should never have come on so strongly in the corridor.

  What the fuck was I thinking?

  She was probably too polite to tell me to shut up about tampons and getting naked when all she really wanted to do was collapse in a flu-puddle on the floor.

  Good one, Ry.

  And here I was shopping on her behalf, forcing her to take a bath like a child, contemplating cleaning her apartment when she’d passed out, all because I had some stupid drive that meant I couldn’t leave someone hurting—just like I couldn’t leave an animal with an abuser or a lost creature without a home.

  I have issues.

  At least those issues were better than being an alcoholic or drug addict, but I still had trouble controlling the obsession to help.

  She’s not lost or abused, you moron. She’s independent. She doesn’t need you.

  And that made me grateful and also kinda sad.

  I liked her.

  Like really fucking liked her.

  If she didn’t like me back…then that would absolutely suck. And if she did like me but had no intention of letting me help or care for her and give me the same in return (because that was what happy marriages were, according to the example set by my parents), then whatever chemistry we had would be wasted.

  And that would be a damn shame.

  If a therapist had access to my brain, I’m sure they’d say my compulsion to help others wasn’t just because of my parents final wish but because I had acres of guilt for not letting them care for me when I was younger.

  That was the part I regretted the most. I thought I was too macho to need them. I loved them but I didn’t lean on them. At the time, I thought it was benefiting them to have such a capable son, but now I looked back and realised that by saying I didn’t need their help, it was a slap in their face.

  Now they were gone, and I would’ve given anything for my mum to cook me chicken noodle soup if I was sick, no matter my
age.

  If Vesper wouldn’t tell her friends or family that she was ill, then I’d take care of her until she did.

  I’d do what I needed to do to ease the guilt inside me.

  What the hell are you saying?

  I didn’t know anymore.

  I was tired, confused, and turned on with no outlet to relieve my frustration.

  I’d just have to accept my grumpiness because I wasn’t in the mood to psychoanalyse.

  * * *

  Back at Vesper’s, I found she did have someone in her life, after all.

  He/she was waiting for me by the front door and attacked my legs as I walked inside with my arms full of groceries.

  “What the hell?”

  A can of coconut milk dropped from the bags as I leapt to the side, slamming onto the ground.

  Talons sliced into my paint-splattered jeans. “Get off, you bloody animal.”

  Shaking my leg, trying to get free, I hopped to the kitchen and quickly put down the items before I dropped the rest.

  The moment, my hands were unencumbered, the attack stopped and a blur of motion hurtled away. I’d seen the orange fluff ball briefly when we’d first arrived but hadn’t had the pleasure of an introduction.

  Now, blood trickled from a small puncture in my calf as the villain took off down the corridor and slinked into a dark room that I assumed was Vesper’s bedroom.

  “Visa?” Vesper’s voice sounded, followed by a loud cough. “What the hell are you doing out there you, damn cat? Don’t you dare terrorise those puppies.”

  Leaving the groceries, I tiptoed down the corridor, listening to her mutter about felines and canines and how mortal enemies should learn to get along.

  Is that how she thought about us? Different species and therefore enemies?

  Too bad for her, I had no intentions of going to war with her. Unless she asked me to dress up like a solider and capture her prisoner role-play style.

  Shit, down boy.

  My damn cock hadn’t been this hard since high-school.

  My hand landed on the doorknob, intending to let myself in. The bath salts would’ve bubbled (I think) to protect her decency. And if it hadn’t, I didn’t really care.

  I wanted her.

  So damn bad.