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

Page 45



She sighed in relief. “Yes, we have a couple of hours before the next arrival.”

A trickle of trepidation crept down my spine. “And who is the next appointment?”

Polly’s eyes lit up. “Oh, come on. Don’t play that game. You must know. He’s probably only coming to see you.”

I slapped my forehead with my hand. “Ryder?”

She nodded. “The one and only.” Leaning in, she whispered, “He called here the other day all worried about you.”

“Yes, you said. You gave him my number.”

She smirked. “Oh, yes, I did, didn’t I? And how is that going?” She nudged my shoulder with hers. “Did you sleep with him?”

I glanced over my shoulder in panic. I didn’t know why—it was just us, after all. “No, I did not sleep with him.”

“But you like him?”

“No…I—”

“Don’t lie to me, Ves. We’ve been together for too long for that nonsense. When you like a boy, you get pissy. And you’re pissy right now.” Grabbing the caterwauling cat’s crate, she placed him onto the surgery table. “Come on, let’s fix poor tabby here so you have plenty of time to see lover boy.”

“He’s not my lover.”

She winked. “Maybe not yet. But I have no doubt he will be.”

* * *

I hated that Polly might be right.

When Ryder walked into my office a couple of hours later with a cardboard box and a Chinese Crested shivering inside, my heart softened and became a damn melted marshmallow as he grinned with his annoyingly handsome face.

Swallowing hard to ignore my rising obsession with this man, I snapped, “What seems to be the problem with this one?”

He shrugged as he placed the box on the table and scooped the nude dog with its little mop of hair on its head and feathers on his legs out of it. Its naked skin was splodged with brown and pink spots.

Out of all impractical breeds, the Chinese Crested had to be one of the worst. It shivered constantly. It had no defence against prickles or mud and could never survive without a human keeping its ridiculous genetics from dying out.

I sighed, rubbing my temples where a small headache still lurked from the past few days.

Ryder kissed its snout, grinning. “She’s cold. Told me so herself.”

“It’s summer. She can’t be cold.”

Squeezing the bald, impractical dog, he shoved it into my arms. His fingers grazed my nipple as he pulled back.

Somehow, I didn’t think it was by accident.

Our eyes locked.

I sucked in a breath.

He clenched his jaw.

Residual flu or not, my body instantly flooded with heat.

He murmured, “She has no fur. Even you and I wear clothes in summer.”

The image of him in no clothes hammered into my skull. I licked my lips as my eyes trailed to his mouth. Having a few days in bed with nothing to do but heal and fantasise about Ryder was not good for my libido. I’d had a few nice naps where his lips found mine, his hands traced my body, and his cock…well, that was too X-rated to reveal.


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