Can't Touch This Page 9

  Me: Your pussy loves catnip? Oh, so that’s why you have expired lube in your bathroom. Never heard of that fetish before, but I’m down.

  Vesper: Ugh, you know what I mean.

  Me: Wait…so we’re not talking about your pussy?

  Vesper: We are. But the orange furry kind, not the…

  Me: Wait, don’t ruin the fantasy. I’m picturing you naked and spread eagled with a bright orange bush. I guess the carpet doesn’t match the drapes in your case.

  Vesper: If you were here, I’d hit you.

  Me: If I was there, I’d kiss you.

  “Who the hell are you texting?” Fiona craned her neck, trying to see my screen. “You look as if you’re about to pass out from smiling.”

  I angled it away. “Not for your innocent eyes, Fi.”

  “Ahh, I get it. You’re not texting. You’re sexting.”

  “Don’t tell me you don’t talk dirty to Markus.”

  She sighed. “Used to before children stole our fun time.”

  I gave her a pitying look before reading Vesper’s new message.

  Vesper: You have to pass my rigorous exam before you get to kiss me.

  Me: What is it with you and tests? Polly made me do one before giving me your phone number.

  Vesper: She did, did she?

  Me: So…back to the pussy. We aren’t talking about the part of you I want to lick. That upsets me.

  Vesper: You, Mr. Carson, are impossible.

  Me: Using the last name card, huh? I must’ve affected you with all the pussy and licking talk.

  Vesper: Look, enough. I’ve already dealt with my previous results of texting you. I don’t have the energy to do it again. Don’t give my pussy catnip. I can’t handle her in this crazy mood.

  I dropped my phone.

  Did she just—?

  Yes, I think she did.

  Scooping the device up and pushing away an eager Bogle with his wriggling butt, I typed: Did you or did you not just admit to one on one pleasuring? P.S., I love it when you use the word pussy.

  Vesper: Holy shit, how did I type that? Forget it. I blame it on the cold and flu medicine you’re making me take. P.S., I just groaned loudly at your high-school level of maturity.

  Me: Now I’m hard and in desperate need of some self-pleasuring of my own. By the way, I bet I could make you groan in other ways.

  Vesper: I doubt it.

  Me: Is that a challenge?

  Fiona interrupted my volley of texts, growing increasingly erotic by the second. “You must really like her.”

  My attention snapped up. “What?”

  “You’re beaming.” She leaned forward, putting the cap on the eye drops. “Who is it? Do I know her? This is amazing. I didn’t think you’d give anyone in this town a chance. You’re so busy all the time and never pay attention to the women throwing themselves at you.”

  “Hold up. Women throw themselves at me?” I looked around conspiratorially, wrapping a hand over my head as if I was in recon. “Where? How come this hasn’t happened and how do I make it so?”

  She giggled. “You know what I mean.”

  “Lucky for you, I don’t. Because if I did—that would mean I was a pompous asshole.”

  She smirked. “Well if the hat fits.”

  My phone buzzed.

  Vesper: Not a challenge. An absurdity.

  Ignoring Fiona, I messaged back.

  Me: An absurdity? Who the hell uses that word? Is it even a word? I might have to come over there and give you a grammar lesson.

  Vesper: I have germs. Stay away.

  Me: I was around your germs last night. I’m immune.

  Vesper: Still…stay away.

  Me: Can I ask you a question?

  Vesper: Another one? I’m going to have to start charging.

  Me: Yep.

  Vesper: Depends.

  Me: On what?

  Vesper: On if this is another one of those truths that will lead me to doing bad things to myself.

  I groaned.

  Holy shit, this woman.

  My mind exploded with images of her fingering herself and the sexy moans falling from her mouth.

  Swallowing hard, I typed: It’s to do with germs and liking.

  Vesper: Okay…

  Me: We’ve already deduced that your germs don’t like me.

  Vesper: And you had a go at me for using the word absurdity. Deduced? Did you just open a thesaurus?

  Me: I’ll get you back for that smartass comment. Let me finish.

  Vesper: Oh, by all means, continue.

  Me: Do you like me? Germs I can deal with but you…I want you to like me. Like truly like me. Because I literally can’t stop thinking about you.

  The phone didn’t vibrate.

  I sighed heavily as a Dalhuahua licked my hand in sympathy.

  Once again, I came on too fucking strong.

  You’re a moron, Ryder.

  Fiona had stood up and brushed dog hair off her black slacks. I hadn’t even noticed—too preoccupied with texting a woman I desperately wanted.

  “You know, whoever she is, she’s a lucky lady. You can tell her I said that.” She waved, heading out of the kennel. “Everyone is cared for. Good night, Ry. See you tomorrow.”

  “Night, Fi.”

  After she’d gone, and my phone didn’t buzz, my temper heated along with embarrassment. I’d stupidly let our bantering take away common sense.

  It was my fault I’d screwed it up.

  I sent one last text.

  Me: Fiona said you should. Like me, I mean.

  I didn’t get a reply all night.

  I really shouldn't have sent that last text.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  ---------------------

  Vesper

  WHO THE HELL IS FIONA?

  And why the hell should I care who Fiona is?

  I don’t.

  I don’t care.

  Liar, liar pants on fire.

  Ugh, I hated it when my brain fixated on something and didn’t give me any peace.

  For two days, I’d wallowed in bed unable to do much but give my body time to heal. In those forty-eight hours, Ryder texted me often. I replied, but with each one, I wanted to blurt out and ask who the hell Fiona was.

  Damn man.

  If I wasn’t so grateful to him for stocking my fridge full of nutritious soups and chunky delicious readymade pastas, I would’ve ignored him completely.

  Liar, liar pants in total ruin now.

  Dangnamit.

  I couldn’t deny I was indebted to him in a way I didn’t like. He’d been there for me when I hadn’t asked him to be. He’d been there even when mutual dislike had ignited and turned into the hottest combustible chemistry I’d felt.

  But just because I liked him didn’t mean I had to jump into anything or label this, right?

  Would you care if some other woman stole him?

  What the hell sort of question was that? Of course, I would. I’d probably start a cat fight, and that wasn’t me at all.

  Crap, he’s already changing me.

  I felt possessive toward him. I wanted him more than just physically but as a friend, too.

  How had this happened?

  Regardless of my confusion and rapidly beating heart whenever I thought about Ryder Carson, life went on and I got better.

  Plus, I had a business to run, a partner not to let down, and parents who were too self-absorbed to care what I did with my life.

  On the morning of the third day of my sickness, I managed to shower and dress and head to work with only a mild headache and a few sniffles. I was better, bitches (dog speak only), and I wouldn't lie around in bed thinking and fantasising and wanting so much to talk to the boy who made me hot in all the right places.

  When I got to work, Polly threw her arms around me and looked as if she’d pass out with exhaustion. “Oh thank God, you’re back. I can’t do it anymore, Ves. I’m beat.” She dragged me into the surgery where a cat sat on the bench,
squalling in a plastic carry case. “It needs its leg set. It was mauled by a neighbour’s cat in a turf war, but I don’t want to operate on my own.” She batted her eyelashes. “Are you up for it? Together, of course?”

  I nodded, stretching out the residual aches in my muscles. “That’s why I’m here. Do we have time now?”

  She sighed in relief. “Yes, we have a couple of hours before the next arrival.”

  A trickle of trepidation crept down my spine. “And who is the next appointment?”

  Polly’s eyes lit up. “Oh, come on. Don’t play that game. You must know. He’s probably only coming to see you.”

  I slapped my forehead with my hand. “Ryder?”

  She nodded. “The one and only.” Leaning in, she whispered, “He called here the other day all worried about you.”

  “Yes, you said. You gave him my number.”

  She smirked. “Oh, yes I did, didn’t I? And how is that going?” She nudged my shoulder with hers. “Did you sleep with him?”

  I glanced over my shoulder in panic. I didn’t know why—it was just us, after all. “No, I did not sleep with him.”

  “But you like him?”

  “No…I—”

  “Don’t lie to me, Ves. We’ve been together for too long for that nonsense. When you like a boy, you get pissy. And you’re pissy right now.” Grabbing the caterwauling cat’s crate, she placed him onto the surgery table. “Come on, let’s fix poor tabby here so you have plenty of time to see lover boy.”

  “He’s not my lover.”

  She winked. “Maybe not yet. But I have no doubt he will be.”

  * * *

  I hated that Polly might be right.

  When Ryder walked into my office a couple of hours later with a cardboard box and a Chinese Crested shivering inside, my heart softened and became a damn melted marshmallow as he grinned with his annoyingly handsome face.

  Swallowing hard to ignore my rising obsession with this man, I snapped, “What seems to be the problem with this one?”

  He shrugged as he placed the box on the table and scooped the nude dog with its little mop of hair on its head and feathers on his legs out of it. Its naked skin was splodged with brown and pink spots.

  Out of all impractical breeds, the Chinese Crested had to be one of the worst. It shivered constantly. It had no defence against prickles or mud and could never survive without a human keeping its ridiculous genetics from dying out.

  I sighed, rubbing my temples where a small headache still lurked from the past few days.

  Ryder kissed its snout, grinning. “She’s cold. Told me so herself.”

  “It’s summer. She can’t be cold.”

  Squeezing the bald, impractical dog, he shoved it into my arms. His fingers grazed my nipple as he pulled back.

  Somehow, I didn’t think it was by accident.

  Our eyes locked.

  I sucked in a breath.

  He clenched his jaw.

  Residual flu or not, my body instantly flooded with heat.

  He murmured, “She has no fur. Even you and I wear clothes in summer.”

  The image of him in no clothes hammered into my skull. I licked my lips as my eyes trailed to his mouth. Having a few days in bed with nothing to do but heal and fantasise about Ryder was not good for my libido. I’d had a few nice naps where his lips found mine, his hands traced my body, and his cock…well, that was too X-rated to reveal.

  If I admitted how kinky my daydreams were…I’d have to kill someone because I’d only just stumbled upon this saucy sex-kitten inside me and I still didn’t know what to do about it.

  Kill her off…or…embrace her. Hug these filthy needs and saucy role-plays running in my blood and finally admit that I needed to play to be fully complete.

  Ever since I lost my virginity at seventeen to a boy I’d been dating for six months (and then broke up three weeks after handing over my V-card), I’d kept a lid on what I truly wanted in bed.

  At first, I was sad thinking I’d live a life where I was broken somehow compared to the men I’d been with and their bland routine. I’d put what I truly wanted in a vault and settled into adulthood with the begrudging acceptance that I had a good skill-set, a great friend, and a successful business.

  So what I would never get to experiment in bed? I didn’t need it.

  But Ryder…he somehow cracked the combination on that vault and made me remember the naughty things I’d imagine when I was seventeen when I had no rules or past experiences to hinder me.

  It was freaking terrifying to finally admit I missed something I’d never had. And for Ryder to shred my life and make me come face to face with just how sexual I wanted to be made me want to run until my legs turned to noodles or strip and command him to finish what he’d started.

  “Earth to vet Fairfax.” Ryder waved his hand in front of my face.

  I jumped, hugging the dog tighter. “What? What happened?”

  He bit his lip, doing his best not to smile. “You space-cadeted on me again.” He chuckled. “You were looking at my mouth. You weren’t thinking of doing bad things to me again, were you? Because if you were…I can totally help with that.”

  Yes, please.

  It would be so easy to nod and let whatever magic between us ignite. But we were at my work. I was supposed to be a mature, composed female.

  Be that female!

  My cheeks heated as I dropped my gaze to the Chinese Crested in my arms. “I wasn’t thinking bad things. Not in a bajillion years.”

  “Bajillion, huh?” He raised an eyebrow. “Never heard of that amount of time.” He came closer, bringing sex and sparks and seduction. “Can I perhaps trade your bajillion and put my own time stamp on it?”

  I froze as his hand cupped my cheek.

  My face leaned into him.

  Damn face.

  Damn hand.

  Damn chemistry.

  “I suppose…” I breathed as his chest strained beneath his grey t-shirt. He was the one seducing me, yet he was just as affected. “What did you have in mind?”

  His eyes lingered on my lips. “Do something for me and I’ll kiss you right here, right now.”

  My mental capacity crashed.

  “Do what?”

  His eyes burned hot into mine. “It’s a huge, huge favour.”

  The way he said huge made me think he’d swapped the word favour for cock.

  I burned up as his thumb grazed my cheekbone.

  He murmured, “If you did it, I’d do whatever you want.”

  What, you’d chase me? Pretend to be a policeman and handcuff me? Reach inside my head and be prepared to play with me?

  My tummy clenched. “What are you proposing I do?” I held the squirming dog as she tried to wriggle into my scrubs, looking for warmth. Not that I could blame her—it was fairly chilly in here with the air conditioning.

  “You’d do it?” His eyes turned luminous. “For me?”

  “Yes.”

  Way to go, Ves. Don’t sound desperate or anything.

  He smiled. “You’re such a kind, sweet…” His head tilted, bringing his mouth close to mine. His scent of outdoors and timber shot up my nose as he brought me forward, our lips only inches apart. “…amazing woman. I’m so fucking hard for you right now, Vesper.”

  Dangnamit, everything inside me tightened, melted, swapped ownership and put its hands in the air to flay like idiots over how much I liked this guy.

  How much I wanted this guy.

  “Tell me what you want me to do, Ryder.” I licked my lips, almost hyperventilating with how much I needed him to kiss me.

  “Christ, I love it when you say my name.” His thumb ran over my bottom lip, pulling it down as he pressed the lightest kiss there. “Vesper, I wouldn’t just ask this of any other woman. I’m asking you because you’re so damn incredible.”

  Ask me what?

  You want me naked and on all fours?

  Got it, give me three seconds.

  You want me
to dress up in a nurse’s uniform and look after you instead of the dogs you bring in?

  Hell yes, get on my table and drop ‘em.

  I swallowed again. “Spit it out. I need to know.”

  My heart needed to know before it galloped from my chest and left me a corpse.

  “Okay, here it goes. Can you, Vesper Fairfax…knit?”

  Eh…

  What?!

  I blinked, wrenching my face from his hold. “What did you just say?”

  He bit his lip, shaking with mirth. “I asked how skilful you are with two needles and some wool.”

  “Why? Do you have some crazy fetish you’re trying to admit to?”

  “I have fetishes, but needles aren’t included.” He couldn’t hold back his laughter anymore. “Man, you should see your face.”

  You should see what you did to my knickers, you jerk.

  “Why exactly are you asking if I have knitting skills?”

  His eyes dropped to the dog. “Well, she’s cold. You’re a vet. You’re supposed to help her dilemma.”

  “Her dilemma?”

  “Yes, she has no fur. You should…I dunno, knit her something to make up for the shitty deal she got in the canine life.”

  My eyebrows climbed up my face. “Knit? You think I can knit?”

  He shrugged. “You’re a girl. Isn’t that like a prerequisite?”

  “Holy wow, you’re a sexist.”

  That’s what’s wrong with him. I knew there had to be something.

  His face darkened. “Am not.”

  “Let me guess. You believed girls played with Barbies and boys with diggers and hammers?”

  He leaned in with a leer. “Actually yes. I still play with my diggers and hammers. If you agree to a date with me, I’ll show you if you like. I have tool belt and everything.”

  I stiffened, partly due to the shock of his proximity, but mostly because of the image of him shirtless on a digger with a hammer hanging from a tool belt, framing the impressive package between his legs.

  Oh my God, get a grip.

  “If I had a pair of knitting needles, I’d stab you with them.”

  He held his chest, faking wounded. “Ouch, and that’s after I spent the night nursing you back to health and keeping you entertained with my witty text messages.”

  I huffed. “Fine, you get a free pass because of that.” My finger came up. “But that’s it. No more sexiest comments.”