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

Me: Why did you have to get sick? I want to play this very fucking second.

Vesper: Patience is a virtue.

Me: I have no virtues.

Vesper: You have plenty. Now, let me rest. The sooner I’m better, the sooner we can…

Me: Do dirty bad things?

Vesper: Exactly.

My cheeks ached from smiling so much. My cock also ached but a slight rearrangement and a forced image of a hairy hippy prevented blue balls.

Vesper Fairfax might be the woman I needed over all others. But she might also be the one woman to kill me.

Tucking my phone away, I put my mind on other matters so I didn’t become completely obsessed with the sexy sick vet I couldn’t stop thinking about.

* * *

Later that afternoon, I’d finished plastering the ceiling before doing my usual rounds of doggy upkeep. I currently had seventeen of the four-legged variety living in an upmarket holding hotel. Some needed constant care with antibiotics, broken limb cast monitoring, and intensive feeding. That’s where the help of a local stay-at-home mum and her two young kids came in.

Fiona, Mack, and Sam were my go-to caregivers while I juggled the building site.

I smiled as I strolled into the warm kennel where the heating was kept at a perfect temperature and the sounds of happy snuffling and contented dogs made me so damn grateful I was able to do this.

Fiona looked up. Her mousy brown hair tied up in a bandana as she carefully splashed eye drops into Chip’s eye. “Hi, Ry.”

“Hi. How are the rascals?” Squatting on my haunches, a cloud of canines rushed me—all waggling butts and lolling tongues. I let them push me over, knowing the floor was disinfected and clean and played with the happy critters. “Hey, guys. You had a good day?”

“They’re doing fine.” Mack grinned, stroking a fat elderly Pug. The ten-year-old already had huge empathy dealing with sick and reliant beasts. I couldn’t see Sam—an unruly fourteen-year-old—but it didn’t mean he wasn’t in one of the kennels feeding.

A Bospin barked, running around in his chocolate fur glory.

“How about you? Are you okay?” Fiona turned green eyes on me.

My phone buzzed; I had a suspicion of who it would be. “I’m good, thanks.” Yanking the device from my pocket, I checked the message.

I was right.

It was her.

Vesper: My pussy found the stash of catnip balls you hid under the couch. She’s now in a whacked-out drug fugue.

I laughed out loud. Not caring Fiona watched me with a twitched eyebrow.

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.