Can't Touch This Page 8

  And because I wasn’t going to fuck her tonight, the least I could do was perve so I had spank-bank material to sort out my traitorous body. I had to get myself under control for the next time I was around her.

  It’d been a long drought since I’d been with a woman. I didn’t want to embarrass myself by coming the second she touched me.

  If we ever get that far.

  I twisted the handle.

  It didn’t budge.

  Goddammit, she’s locked the door.

  Splashing sounded inside. “Who—who’s there?”

  “Who else? It’s Ryder.”

  “What? I thought you left?”

  Was the flu affecting her short term memory?

  “Yes, I did. But now I’m back. I went for food, remember?”

  “What on earth for? I told you to go home. You’ve done your good Samaritan thingy. I’m home safe. Now please, leave me alone.”

  Did something happen between me leaving and returning? She’d been nice to me before. Now, she was cold.

  I knew I shouldn’t have left her alone.

  Doubts had a horrible way of turning something right and good into something bad and wrong.

  My temper itched into gear. “Wow, that’s gratitude for bringing you home.”

  A pause, then a reluctant: “You’re right. I’m sorry. Thank you for bringing me home, Ryder, and for running a bath, but really…I must insist you leave.”

  I smiled; not that she could see it. Even with my thread of annoyance, I was enjoying myself way too much to leave yet. “Only once I’ve fed you, Vesper. You’re my patient until I discharge you.”

  I pressed my forehead against the door, murmuring, “Finish your bath, then come and find me. Eat what I give you. Let me give you some drugs to help you sleep. And then, maybe, I’ll obey and leave you alone.”

  Another splash. “You’re beyond annoying. Has anyone ever told you that?”

  I laughed. “Lots. I’ll take it as a compliment.”

  There was no reply.

  * * *

  The sound of draining bath water sent me bolting into the kitchen to finish warming the potato and leek soup.

  I hadn’t been snooping.

  I would never snoop.

  Not me. No way.

  It wasn’t my fault her diary was open on her coffee table (who uses paper diaries anymore?) or her Netflix account wasn’t password protected.

  From my none-snooping, I learned she loved classic romances such Pride and Prejudice and had a standing date labelled ‘Dogs and Dots’ at one p.m. every Thursday afternoon.

  I had no idea what that was but I kinda wanted to know.

  I couldn’t help that I’d found those little things. After all, I’d been searching her apartment for a nice fluffy dressing gown to give her after the bath because I was a sweet, non-snooping man who’d invited himself back to her place with outward intentions of caring for her but inward intentions of sleeping with her.

  Despite my good and bad thoughts, I’d failed on the dressing gown hunt. Turned out, she owned hardly any clothing and definitely not a nice snuggly robe. So, I’d had to settle for rummaging in her chest of drawers and found some fleece pyjama bottoms and a baggy t-shirt that had a forest background with a beaver crossing its arms. The slogan said: You got wood? I got an axe. Bedtime is sleepy time. No eager beaver here.

  I’d snickered. Her sense of humour had infiltrated her wardrobe.

  A woman after my heart.

  Just so long as she truly doesn’t have an axe when I approach her with my wood.

  After stirring the soup one last time, I grabbed the clothing I’d found, and placed myself right outside the bathroom door.

  Three…

  Two…

  The door opened and a towel-draped water sprite greeted me. Holy shit, her skin was the colour of honey and her blonde curls were damp-dark. The short black towel she hugged around her curves gave me a great view of her long legs and pink painted toes.

  She screamed, clutching her chest.

  My eyes locked onto the small towel, begging it to fall.

  Her hand swatted out, whacking me on the bicep. “Oh my God, what are you doing lurking in my corridor? You damn well gave me a heart attack!”

  I laughed, swallowing the sudden lust and angling away my hips. “Nothing. Just waiting to give you these.” Shit, it was hard dragging my eyes away from the droplet rolling down her cleavage.

  I handed her the clothing. “Didn’t want you to get cold. Figured you could get dressed in the bathroom where it’s muggy and hot.”

  Her mouth fell open. “Who the hell are you?”

  Holding out my hand, I grinned. “Suppose we’ve never been officially introduced. I did kinda barge in on you that day with Heineken and the awful emergency. I’m Ryder Joseph Carson. I like swimming and—”

  She ignored my polite introduction, stealing the clothes instead. “Yes, I know your name. That wasn’t what I meant. I meant why are you doing this? I’m not your responsibility. Shoo already.”

  “You’re right, you’re not my responsibility. But why should I not do this? Doesn’t the world need more charitable individuals?”

  “Are you saying I’m a charity case?”

  I jammed my hands in my jean’s pockets. “Well…”

  “Wow, keeping me under house arrest and giving out insults.” She sneezed, her eyes welling up with flu tears. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

  That was a question I could answer.

  Truthfully.

  With no bullshit of any kind.

  I bent to her level, inhaling vanilla and other girly smells from her bath. “You care for so many creatures. You put them first and you’re selfless when it comes to their wellbeing over yours.”

  She froze as I cupped her cheek. “You’re not like most people, Vesper Fairfax. And I’m not a liar. I like you a fuck ton, and the sooner you realise that, the better off we’ll both be.”

  My fingers sparked where I touched her. It took all my willpower to drop my hand and step back. “Go and dress—before I undo that tiny towel and kiss you stupid. Dinner is ready and I want you to eat.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  ---------------------

  Vesper

  I WAS SICK.

  It sucked.

  But what didn’t suck was Ryder Carson.

  He fed me—delicious warming soup.

  He entertained me—making jokes when Visa finally came out to say hi.

  He kissed me—okay, just a quick peck on the forehead—after he’d cleaned the dishes and straightened out my lounge until I screamed at him to leave the mess alone.

  But it was still a kiss.

  He liked me.

  He told me himself.

  And, as I lay in bed, stuffed up, achy, feverish, cursing my nose and head, I smiled.

  Because for the first time in forever.

  I liked a boy.

  I wanted a boy.

  And he wanted me.

  CHAPTER TEN

  ---------------------

  Ryder

  THE NEXT MORNING, I WOKE worried and happy.

  Worried that I might come down with what Vesper had and bloody ecstatic that I’d been able to spend the evening with her regardless of germs.

  However, my immune system didn’t believe in playing sick. I had no itchy throat or early symptoms, leaving me to focus entirely on Vesper Fairfax and just how intoxicated she made me.

  Corn and Chip had returned home with me, and found company in the luxury kennel I’d built with their own beds, lots of food, and space to run while I started the process of tracking down a forever home.

  I still had to bring them back for a more in-depth check-up once Vesper was feeling better. But for now, the puppies were safe, Vesper was healing, and I had a crap load of work to do such as helping my building team tackle a few more areas of my dilapidated home.

  The morning trickled into afternoon and by two p.m., I couldn’t stop mys
elf reaching for my phone and dealing Tales of Tails. I needed to hear her—just for a second. Perhaps then my attention span could focus on plastering rather than a half-naked Vesper in a towel.

  “Hello, Tales of Tails. Amanda speaking.”

  Shit, I forgot about her.

  “Hi. Is Ms. Fairfax in?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Not today. She’s sick. However, Ms. Dartford is the vet in charge and can assist you. What seems to be the problem?”

  I pinched the brow of my nose. “You know what, don’t disturb Ms. Dartford. I’m a friend of Ms. Fairfax’s and just need a quick word. You don’t have her cell phone number, do you?”

  “I’m not really supposed to give out—”

  “I know it’s a little unorthodox but—”

  Amanda cleared her throat. “Let me transfer you to Polly.”

  “No, wait it’s oka—”

  Hold music.

  Great.

  “Hello, Polly speaking. Do you have an animal emergency?”

  I groaned. “No, sorry to disturb you. It’s Ryder Carson calling. I just wanted to find out how Vesper is doing.”

  “Vesper, huh?” Polly chuckled. “On a first hand basis now, are you?”

  I tensed. “Look, forget it. Can you just tell her I called? Be nice if she let me know if she’s feeling any better and needs any more soup.” Deciding to push my luck, I added, “Or another bath.”

  A sharp intake of breath. “You took her home last night.”

  I stayed silent, grinning.

  Polly whistled. “Whoa, that’s impressive.”

  What was I supposed to say to that? “Um, thank you?”

  “Okay, here’s the deal.” Polly’s voice slipped to a more friendly tone. “Answer me three questions, and I’ll give you her phone number and you can ask her yourself.”

  I rubbed the back of my neck. “What three questions?”

  “Number one, do you have pure or impure thoughts about my bestie? Number two, are you a sleaze bag cheater who will just break her heart? And three, are you a serial killer or any other skeletons in your creepy closet?”

  I laughed. “Is this like an interview to date your best friend?”

  “Oh wow, you want to date her?” She whistled again. “This is serious. Now I really need the answers to those questions.”

  I sighed. “And how will I know if I pass or not?”

  “You pass, you get her digits. You don’t, and I have a Rottweiler here waking up from surgery and know just where to send him if he feels like tearing someone a new asshole.”

  I laughed again. “Okay, okay. You win. Three questions, huh?” I frowned. “Number one, I have both pure and impure—I’m talking angel to downright filthy thoughts about Vesper. Two, I’ve never cheated on anyone and have no intentions of starting. Three, I’m not a murderer. Yet. I can’t promise I never will be, but I’d only kill the bastards who hurt defenceless animals.”

  The line went quiet.

  “Did I pass?”

  “Her number is 657-8890.” Polly giggled. “That friend of mine needs some filthy thoughts. Make sure you give them to her.”

  She hung up before I could thank her.

  Quickly typing Vesper’s number into my phone before I could forget, I pulled up a fresh message and typed: How’s my patient?

  Instantly, I regretted it.

  Did it come across as arrogant? Did I have the right to ask how she was? She wasn’t my patient. She wasn’t mine, period.

  Not yet, anyway.

  Would she mind the hint to such a thing in the future?

  Fuck!

  Raking my hands through my hair, I pocketed my phone and returned to work. Collecting my trowel, I did my best to forget and mix another batch of plaster to work on the dining room ceiling.

  However, my phone buzzed, putting me out of my misery.

  Vesper: Shouldn’t I be asking that about Corn and Chip? How are my patients doing?

  Me: They’re behaving and enjoying their new bunk buddies. The eye drops seem to be working. But less about them and more about you. How are you feeling?

  Vesper: Like road kill but alive.

  Me: Thanks to me?

  Vesper: I’m alive thanks to you? I thought it was something about the birds and the bees and my parent’s naughty time.

  I chuckled at her snark.

  And waited.

  She didn’t disappoint.

  Vesper: Yes, alive thanks to you. Also, I kind of hate you for it, but thank you for stocking my fridge full of easy to eat meals.

  Me: You’re welcome.

  Vesper: You have the frustrating way of pissing me off and making me melt at the same time.

  Me: If I knew groceries made you melt, I would’ve bought the entire store.

  She took a few minutes to reply.

  Vesper: Why did I just get a text from Polly saying you’re going to do filthy things to me?

  Oh, shit.

  I laughed out loud, my fingers flying over the touchscreen.

  Me: Want a truth or a lie?

  Vesper: What sort of question is that?

  Me: A question judging how prepared you are to do this with me.

  Vesper: Do what with you?

  Me: Date me, of course.

  Vesper: We’re dating now?

  Me: If you want to make it official. Yep.

  Vesper: We’ve spent a total of a few hours together outside work. Don’t you think dinner and a movie with a kiss goodnight is required before we label this?

  Me: We can still do those things. However, I want to lock you in before anyone else can steal you.

  Vesper: Can you hear me laughing from where you are?

  Me: No, but I can come over. Wink wink.

  Vesper: You’re not coming anywhere near me. I’m sick. I want to feel sorry for myself and sulk in my pyjamas with no worry about trying to be pretty for you.

  Me: You don’t need to try. You are pretty. Question…are you still wearing that beaver t-shirt?

  Another pause.

  Vesper: Ugh, is this going to be a question about the bed time is sleepy time not sexy time thing?

  Me: Just out of curiosity, how do you feel about sex? Lots of sex?

  A longer pause.

  Vesper: I wouldn’t say no.

  My cock hardened like a balloon. One second minding its own business, the next inflated and ready for action.

  Me: I can give you the truth then and not a lie. You ready?

  Vesper: I’m afraid.

  Me: You don’t have to be afraid with me. You can be wet, and turned on, and wild, but never afraid. Polly was right. I do want to do bad things to you. So many dirty, bad things. I want you on your knees. I want you on my tongue. I want to play with you—both in the bedroom and out. I’m into freedom when it comes to fucking and if that means outdoors, role-play, kink—I’m down. I just hope you are too because fuck I’m hard just thinking about sinking inside you.

  She didn’t reply.

  Two minutes.

  Four.

  Five.

  Shit, I came on too hard.

  I’d never told any prospective girlfriend just how much I loved to play. It came back to needing to have fun when my life was so serious. I wasn’t into violent things but dressing up—indulging in naughty nuns, bad teachers, and horny stranger games—hell, yes.

  Finally, she replied.

  Vesper: Truth or lie?

  Me: Truth.

  Vesper: I think all this time, I’ve been lying to myself. I’m so uptight in my life. I worry about things constantly. I follow agendas and schedules and time tables. I’m driven to the point of needing success over everything else. But you make me remember how to let loose. You want to play with me, Ryder Carson? I can play. I want to play. I’m wet just thinking about it.

  Me: Why did you have to get sick? I want to play this very fucking second.

  Vesper: Patience is a virtue.

  Me: I have no virtues.

  Vesper: You have pl
enty. Now, let me rest. The sooner I’m better, the sooner we can…

  Me: Do dirty bad things?

  Vesper: Exactly.

  My cheeks ached from smiling so much. My cock also ached but a slight rearrangement and a forced image of a hairy hippy prevented blue balls.

  Vesper Fairfax might be the woman I needed over all others. But she might also be the one woman to kill me.

  Tucking my phone away, I put my mind on other matters so I didn’t become completely obsessed with the sexy sick vet I couldn’t stop thinking about.

  * * *

  Later that afternoon, I’d finished plastering the ceiling before doing my usual rounds of doggy upkeep. I currently had seventeen of the four-legged variety living in an upmarket holding hotel. Some needed constant care with antibiotics, broken-limb cast monitoring, and intensive feeding. That’s where the help of a local stay-at-home mum and her two young kids came in.

  Fiona, Mack, and Sam were my go to caregivers while I juggled the building site.

  I smiled as I strolled into the warm kennel where the heating was kept at a perfect temperature and the sounds of happy snuffling and contented dogs made me so damn grateful I was able to do this.

  Fiona looked up. Her mouse brown hair tied up in a bandana as she carefully splashed eye drops into Chip’s eye. “Hi, Ry.”

  “Hi. How are the rascals?” Squatting on my haunches, a cloud of canines rushed me—all waggling butts and lolling tongues. I let them push me over, knowing the floor was disinfected and clean and played with the happy critters. “Hey, guys. You had a good day?”

  “They’re doing fine.” Mack grinned, stroking a fat elderly Pug. The ten-year-old already had huge empathy dealing with sick and reliant beasts. I couldn’t see Sam—an unruly fourteen-year-old—but it didn’t mean he wasn’t in one of the kennels feeding.

  A Bospin barked, running around in his chocolate fur glory.

  “How about you? Are you okay?” Fiona turned green eyes on me.

  My phone buzzed; I had a suspicion of who it would be. “I’m good, thanks.” Yanking the device from my pocket, I checked the message.

  I was right.

  It was her.

  Vesper: My pussy found the stash of catnip balls you hid under the couch. She’s now in a whacked-out drug fugue.

  I laughed out loud. Not caring Fiona watched me with a twitched eyebrow.