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

I wouldn’t bring up the fact that she was irresponsible with her money because her reasons behind it sucker-punched me in the gut and made me feel so unworthy.

I helped animals. I sheltered them. I protected them. But what did I give them that I couldn’t already afford to give?

Nothing.

It was thanks to my parents that I was able to do this and their stipulation that I do but if I was like Vesper and living below the poverty line, would I still be so damn selfless?

I wanted to know so I could look myself in the mirror and be proud of myself. I also didn’t want to know because I was afraid I wouldn’t have a satisfactory answer.

“Sorry, I don’t have fancy surround sound or a completed fire to make the mood more romantic.” I pointed at the colossal marble fireplace I’d recently finished restoring. “That thing will be a beast once the chimney is rebuilt.”

“Rebuilt?”

I nodded.

“The chimney fell down?” Her gaze flickered to the cavernous hole just waiting for cheery logs to burn in ambiance.

“Yes, decades of bird nests and no maintenance meant the mortar crumbled away. I’m guessing in one of the high winds, the bricks just gave up and toppled. It’s on my to do list this week.”

“You juggle a lot of things.” She sipped again. “Dog care, house maintenance, perfect boyfriend.”

My heart fisted. “Say that again.”

“Dog care—”

I bent over, stroking her hair. “No, the boyfriend part.”

Her eyes glowed. “Ah, you want positive acknowledgement that we’re a thing now?”

“A thing?”

“Two consenting adults agreeing to spend allotted amounts of time together in a fun and mutually enjoyable way.”

My gaze dropped on her blouse. “Did you pack a dictionary in your bra? Is that the current Webster’s definition?”

She shuddered as my fingers massaged her scalp. “No, just my own conclusion.”

“Conclusions being…I’m your boyfriend?”

“You’re mine, yes.”

My cock stiffened. “I like hearing that even more than the juvenile title of what our relationship is.”

“Juvenile? Wait, you don’t like the word boyfriend?” Her eyes flittered closed as I continued to knead the back of her neck.

“Nope.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not a boy and you’re not a girl. We’re adults doing adult things. We fuck and go to work and juggle hard as hell lives while doing our best to remember how to be stupid and fun.”

My lips ached to kiss her as her head fell back. Scar looked peeved as her cuddles dropped away, distracted by my petting.

“So…what are you?” she murmured.

“Yours.”

“Mine?”