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We were damn insatiable but not just for sex. For each other.
I ached like the fucking flu when we were apart. And when she was in my arms, I got itchy at the thought of her leaving. I didn’t like her away from me, and as stupid as it was, I wanted to ask her to move in.
In fact, I would never ever admit this out loud, but I was doing my best to come up with a way to help her out financially, so she could continue to donate to the shelter and be able to afford decadent meals for herself.
However, I hadn’t come up with a way that wouldn’t be a slap in her face or come across as meddling.
One day, while Vesper was chained at work, I’d visited the shelter to check out their list of top sponsors. I was now in the records thanks to my good deeds, but Vesper had been there long before I had.
How had I never noticed her name in the top three donators before?
Not just her personally but the surgery was a donator, too.
Did I need to have a word with her about financial forecast and stability? Had she forward planned retirement and thought about what she would do if, heaven forbid, she could never work again?
I loved her generosity, but it also made me nervous as hell.
* * *
“Do you want to come around tomorrow night?” Vesper asked during one of our late-night phone calls.
I’d seen her today for a quick lunch at the surgery but hadn't been able to head to hers tonight as she’d had another online conference with the stuffy bigwigs of the veterinary council.
“Just try to keep me away.” I sprawled in my bed, inhaling Vesper from the last time she’d slept over. She didn’t sleep here often enough for my liking but at least she’d started leaving little things like a spare toothbrush and a couple of extra clean panties for the shame dash into work the next morning.
Her voice held a smile. “I’ll make some tagliatelle; I know you like pastas.”
The thought of her making me a home-cooked meal made me grateful and upset. How much of her weekly budget would go to that one meal and what would she eat afterward if she insisted on giving most of her paycheck away?
“I’ll even dress up as a sexy chef and wear nothing under the apron.”
I bit my fist. “You’d do that for me?”
“I’d do whatever you wanted.”
My body tightened. “Including bending over the counter and letting me sink inside you from behind?”
“Yum, especially that.”
“Hell yes, I’m—” My erotic fantasy slammed to a stop. “Ah, shit, I can’t come over tomorrow.”
“Oh?” Sadness filled her tone, then was covered by false joviality. “Oh okay, no problem. Another time.”
“Don’t do that. Say you’re pissed at me and ask why I’m standing you up.”
The phone line crackled before she sucked in a breath. “Okay, fine. I’m not happy. I’m going to miss you and it will suck and I’ll end up having lonely pasta for one with Visa and Barb.”
“There’s my girl. Damn it turns me on knowing that you’re going to miss me.”
“Are you going to miss me?”
“Like a bloody lovesick fool.”
“Well that’s a consolation prize at least. I hope it hurts.”
“Oh, Ves, it will, believe me. Knowing I could be with you instead of entertaining someone else will be a dagger in my bleeding heart.”
The line crackled again.