Can't Touch This (Can't Touch This #1)

He grinned, coming close to cup my cheek.

My skin instantly ignited beneath his touch.

His thumb caressed me. “Not unimportant. Super important. I want to know everything about you.” Bending a little, his lips met mine in a chaste kiss. He didn’t attempt to add tongue, just content to press warmth against warmth in a familiar and very welcome hello.

My heart accelerated and my bones suddenly became sex-laden with the desire to drag him into my bedroom rather than to the large pet warehouse a thirty-minute drive away.

Ending the kiss, he murmured, “Have I told you I love kissing you?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Well, for the relationship scorecard, I do.”

I swayed forward, my arms sweeping up to hug him. I didn’t know what made me do it. I wasn’t a hugger in general but the way he looked at me made everything inside melt like a damn chocolate cake.

He froze as my hands lashed around his waist.

Then he jerked backward, his forehead furrowed. “Whoa, I thought the frisky business was supposed to wait until after your chores.”

My brain was erotically fogged—thanks to him, kisses, and sweet confessions. Errands shmrands. Who cared about such trivial stuff when I could be in bed with him? “Meh, I think I’ve changed my mind.”

I took a step closer, intending to grab his t-shirt and drag him cavewoman style into my lair. However, he practically sprinted to the door and opened it with a chivalrous bow.

What the hell?

He laughed uncomfortably. “Sorry, hugs make me nervous. Let’s go, shall we?” Not waiting for me, he disappeared into the corridor where his loud sigh met my ears.

What on earth was that about?

We’d hugged before—when we said goodbye at his place, during sex, and at the river. Those instances he hadn’t been hugaphobic.

Looking at Visa, I mouthed, “Men. Maybe I should shack up with Polly, after all.” At least women were pretty easy to read. ‘I’m fine’ meant do better or leave me alone. Men? What did refusing a hug mean?

Had he had enough of me?

Or was there something deeper I needed to figure out?

“Ves, time’s a ticking.” His voice hacked through my fumbling questions.

Giving Visa one last uncertain look, I dashed from my home and prepared to go shopping with my boyfriend.

* * *

“This is where you wanted to come?” Ryder glanced through the windscreen; his forehead furrowed in the car-park lights while stars twinkled above.

“I didn’t really want to come. But I had no choice. The online purchasing we normally do is down, and we ran out of a few pieces. We’ll put in a new order tomorrow, but this will tide us over until they arrive.”

Opening my door, I slipped out into the cooler night. It didn’t make sense that this town could be so hot during the day and so nippy at night.

Ryder followed me, locking the Mustang with a beep beep of his keys. Walking side by side, my hand itched to hold his, but I didn’t reach out. I’d learned my lesson thanks to the unwanted hug incident.

What did I do wrong?

I hated that the confidence and joy I’d felt about us as a couple had switched to uncertainty and sadness.

All I wanted was a hug. He’d kissed me. A hug was a downgrade from a kiss, right? So why had he run?

Ugh, stop thinking about it.