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

She trotted after me, holding her head. “Wait, did you just call me a pumpkin?”

“Will it make you easier to get into the car?”

“By being called a vegetable?” She crossed her arms. “No chance.”

“How about if I call you Darling or Snookums or Princess Puppy Ruler. Will that make you drop down your need to do everything yourself and let me drive you home?”

She froze. “I don’t have a pathological need to do everything myself, you know.”

“Good.” I huffed. “Then you’ll let me drive and quit arguing.”

She threw up her hands. “There truly is no winning with you, is there?”

I grinned. “Nope.”

Glowering, she muttered, “In that case, I guess I don’t have a choice.” Pushing on the exit, she stalked into the cooler night air. Summer had us in a hot grip but the nights were nippy—perfect for sex on a rug in front of a fire or cuddling under blankets.

My cock stiffened at the thought. Then deflated remembering how sick she was. I’d made progress and invited myself to her house (was that classified as a date or not?) but there would be no getting lucky tonight. Not that I really wanted to kiss her when she was ill.

My eyes tracked to her full peach lips where she’d licked and nibbled as she did her best to breathe.

Her plump glistening mouth—

Nope, no way did I want to kiss her.

I didn’t do germs.

But you could…

…just this once.

Fuck, who was I kidding? I would kill to fucking kiss her.

Tearing my eyes away, I made sure to lock up seeing as she’d forgotten in her flu state, and after fumbling with two dogs, her handbag, and finding the right key, I followed her to a dinged-up Honda Accord and opened the back door to put the puppies on the back seat.

I was exhausted.

Shit, how did women juggle so much crap and not get totally frustrated?

Vesper craned her neck to look at the Chiweenies through the window. “Wait, you’re not bringing them with us, are you?”

“It’s cold and they’re still damp from their bath. I’m not gonna leave them in my car.”

“But—”

I closed the back door; quickly glancing to make sure my ride (a vintage Mustang—yeah baby) was safe in her practice’s parking lot. I’d get a cab back to it later once Sleeping Beauty here was in bed.

Instantly, images of her in sexy lingerie with spread legs attacked my cock.

Christ, don’t think about her in bed.

Clearing my throat, I forced myself to visualise flannel pyjamas and flu medicine. “I’ll deal with it when we get to your place, okay?”

She grumbled under her breath but allowed me to open the passenger door and wait until she’d thrown herself inside.

I hated that she was sick, but I also couldn’t stop the victory bounce in my step as I got behind the wheel and drove her home.

CHAPTER SEVEN