“And there you have it, councillor.”
“That doesn’t mean he’s off the market.”
“Whatever, Ves. Go to bed before I get mad at you.” She laughed. “Sleep well. See you at seven tomorrow.”
She hung up before I could argue.
Not that I would argue. It was past midnight, and we had to be fresh for the Papillion’s sake tomorrow.
I needed to rest.
But that was before Ryder somehow sensed my phone was no longer in use and another message popped into my inbox.
Ryder: I’m hard and thinking about you. My hand wants to help out with my problem but my imagination is telling me to wait until I have you beneath me again.
God, I wanted a rerun of what happened at the river.
Beneath you or on all fours?
My lethargy switched to prickly heat.
Me: Perhaps your cock and your imagination can have what they both want.
Ryder: Oh, I love a problem solver.
Me: What problem would you like to solve? I’m here to please.
Ryder: How about the hard pressing issue currently in my fist?
Me: Oh dear, it sounds rather drastic. I would recommend studiously relieving the pressing issue.
Ryder: And what should my imagination be doing?
Me: Picturing me naked and my mouth inching closer and closer to your pressing issue.
Ryder: Jesus, woman.
Me: Even swearing on messenger is hot when I know what you’re doing to yourself.
Ryder: How do you know? Do you have cameras in my home?
Me: I can imagine. I’m picturing you naked on your bed with your cock in your hand and sexy face all scrunched up as you jerk.
Ryder: Nailed it. Want to come around and see the real thing?
Me: No.
Ryder: Why not?
Me: Because I’m elsewise engaged in my own pressing problem.
I bit my lip, unashamedly stroking the wetness he’d conjured. I could’ve said I had an early work appointment (which was true) or been coy about sexting, but this was too much fun and I’d promised myself to have fun from now on.
Ryder: Thanks for that.
Me: Thanks for what?
Ryder: My pressing problem is sorted.
Me: Just the thought of touching myself got you, huh?
Ryder: Just the thought? Ves, just the memory of you makes me so fucking hard. Just the replay of our time together makes me ache in so many places. You’ve ruined me and now I have to sleep to get over this fact.
His honesty blew my mind. My fingers swirled fast and sure on my clit. I knew how to get myself off quickly and knowing Ryder had already orgasmed while thinking about me was the last catalyst I needed.
My body erupted.
Bands of pleasure quaked my core.
When I could hold my phone again without shuddering with bliss, I typed: My pressing matter has also been taken care of.
Ryder: Goddammit, I wish I’d been there to watch.
Me: An encore could always be arranged.
Ryder. You’ll get a standing ovation.
Me: I’ll hold you to that.
Ryder: When can I see you again? Scar and I miss you.
The fact that Scar was holding on pleased and saddened me. It couldn’t be easy being breathless but between the drugs and Ryder’s care, I had no doubt he would be loving life and I could understand the reluctance to let go just yet.
Me: Day after tomorrow? I have a few surgeries coming up and another online conference to attend.
Ryder: If I didn’t love animals so much I’d hate them for stealing your time.
Me: If I didn’t love animals so much I’d stand them up just to feel you inside me again.
Ryder: Ves?
Me: Yes.
Ryder: I’m so damn lucky you moved to this town.
Me: I’m the lucky one. Goodnight, Ry.
Ryder: Shit, you called me Ry. My pressing problem has just returned. Thanks.
I smirked, snuggling into my pillows as Visa positioned herself in her favourite place on top of my head and swatted my curls.
Me: Maybe postpone that one. I’ll help you out with it next time we see each other. Now, I really do need to sleep. But rest assured, I’ll be dreaming of you.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
---------------------
Ryder
“IF YOU EVER DO THAT to me again, I’m going to have to marry you.”
I couldn’t stop the repetition.
The glorious, terrifying, amazing repetition.
Had she meant it? Or was it heat of the moment stupidity? I’d suffered such insanity when I was about to jizz on Vesper’s yellow curtains. The idiocy of Mrs. Lesley thinking I was her cousin, coupled with the desperate desire to climb inside her had had thoughts of marriage sprouting all over the damn place.
Jokes were fine.
Humour was awesome.
But what was that saying? There is no truer thing said than in jest?
Were Vesper and I playing a game of honesty hidden in quips and one-liners? And if so, just how deep did her feelings go for me and just how deep did mine go for her?
And why did the thought of finding out the answers to those questions fucking petrify me?
“Hey, Ryder?” David bellowed up the stairs. “Special delivery of Kookaburra Kool white paint. Did you want it in the foyer or lounge?”
Thank hell, my foreman interrupted my thoughts. It was getting scary there for a second. Shrugging away the last of daydream cobwebs, I rearranged my trouser pistol from the semi-erection I’d caused thinking of Vesper on her knees by the river and descended the steps two at a time.
I’d been on the roof all morning replacing reflective metal sheeting, and my skin had picked up an extra layer of tan. I’d been in my bedroom changing into a darker t-shirt as the sun couldn’t burn me with sun lotion but it somehow managed to roast me through a stupid white t-shirt with no SPF value whatsoever.
I had no intention of being a lobster when I saw Vesper tonight.
“Just put it in the lounge for now. I think that colour is designated for the corridors and guest wing.”
“Righto.” David nodded as I leapt off the final step.
Grabbing a handle on the ten litre buckets of paint, I helped haul the six tubs to a vacant spot in the lounge. I couldn’t wait to start slapping it on the walls. The amount of demolition, rebuild, and preparation that had to happen before painting always went slow. But the moment paint was applied, boom, progress.
When the last bucket was in place, David nudged me with his elbow. “You going on your date like that?”
I looked down at my black paint-spotted t-shirt and old jeans that I’d torn into shorts. Even my leg hair had splatters of metal shards and roof silicone caught in the curly man strands.
“You got something against my wardrobe?” I pulled my hammer free from my tool belt, eyeing him up in his equally ridiculous wardrobe of wife beater and stubby shorts.
“Nah, mate. But that sexy vet you’ve got the hots for might.”
My eyes narrowed. “How do you know about Vesper?”
He rolled his eyes. “Ah, come on. Small town equals good gossip. Mrs. Lesley is asking around who Vesper’s mysterious naked inappropriately touching cousin is. My wife came home with the tale and a pretty adequate description of you by the way.” He leaned in conspicuously. “She’s not your cousin though, right? Because, dude…stop that.”
“Holy shit, I told Vesper she’d get punished for spreading such stupid rumours.”
David burst into laughter. “So it was you.”
“You just said—”
“Fishing. That’s all. But you just admitted it, so there you go.” He shrugged. “Plus, you do spend far more time than what’s normal at the vets. Only natural you’d hook up with the only woman you have regular contact with.”
“Not true. I could’ve hooked up with another.” It pissed me off that he thought I was just wi
th Vesper because of convenience. Nothing was further from the truth. “She’s special. We’re—”
David’s mouth fell open as he sucked in a noisy breath. “Balls, you’re—” He moved forward, his hand rose as if to take my temperature.
I ducked out of his reach, glaring. “What the—”
“I know that look.” He smirked. “I’ve suffered the same illness.”
“Illness? What illness.” I cupped my scruff-decorated cheek. I didn’t have a fever. I had a minor headache from working on the roof in the sun but that was lack of hydration. I wasn’t sick.
I couldn’t be sick.
I have a date tonight and plenty more hot sex to indulge in.
Could I have come down with what Vesper had, after all?
“The worst sickness in the world.” David nodded importantly. “You’re bloody in love with her.”
I froze.
Shit, having my own thoughts throw such scary words around and jokes about marriage were one thing. Hearing it spoken aloud by the man I paid to run my building site was entirely another.
“Uh…” I swallowed hard. “I don’t know. It’s all…new.”
“New, old, long, short. All the same.” He patted me on the shoulder as the carpenter strolled through the front door with a spindle for the staircase. “When I met Marge, I knew. One look, three dates, and two weeks later on New Year’s, I told her I loved her. She made me wait two months before she said it back, but every time she hugged me…I knew.”
Keeping my voice down, so other tradesmen wouldn’t hear their boss become a giant love-struck fool, I asked, “How? How did you know?”
David grinned. “Oh, if she loves you, you’ll know. Her hugs will have this weight about them. They’ll reach inside your chest and motherfucking squeeze.” Skirting around me while pulling on his gloves to continue demolishing the wall separating the kitchen and lounge, he added, “But just like you’ll be able to know that she loves you without admitting it, she’ll be able to tell you love her in return. My advice, don’t hug that girl unless you want her to know. Because after that…she’s got your balls for life.”
* * *
Vesper: I just got home. I know it’s past six p.m. but I really need to pick up a few supplies for the pet store aspect of the clinic. I know we said dinner tonight and I’m sorry to mix business with pleasure…but would you like to come?
Me: I like mixing pleasure with anything. Call me a pleasure addict. And by come, do you mean inside you or just accompany you? (If you didn’t guess, I’d like the first one to be the answer).
Vesper: If you come with me to run an errand. I’ll come with you when I make you come later. Enough ‘coming’ for you?
Me: I’ll have to think about it.
Vesper: How about I add an extra appetiser to tempt you?
Me: Go on…
Vesper: If you come with me, I promise you have an open ended invitation to use me in whatever way you wish...to come.
My cock grew grabby hands—literally, if the damn thing could operate a phone, it would’ve ripped it from my fingers and slapped back an answer full of expletives and lots of begging.
Vesper: What do you say?
Me: I say you have yourself a deal. I’ll spend the entire errand thinking up ways to take you up on your offer.
Vesper: And that is why I keep you around.
Me: For my brainstorming?
Vesper: No, your insatiable need to come.
Me: You mean my inexhaustible need to do whatever you want.
Vesper: That, too. Now stop texting me and get your butt over here. I want to bite it.
Me: Sounds painful.
Vesper: It will be if you’re late.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
---------------------
Vesper
COULD YOU DIE OF SMILING too much?
Because my face literally felt like it would fall off. I worried about premature lines around my eyes. I cursed my aching cheeks. And I lay awake at night wondering how the hell I’d gone from stuck-up stressed out vet to this giggly ignoramus who couldn’t stop thinking about the last time she had sex and walking around like a uterus on a stick.
When my doorbell announced Ryder had taken my butt biting seriously and taken only half an hour from our last text to arriving, Visa marched with me to the front door and hissed as I opened it wide.
“Well, hello to you too, you nasty pussy.” Ryder ducked, offering his knuckles to the upturned feline nose.
“I, eh, wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
Giving a hand to a dog to sniff, acceptable. Doing the same to a cat, unworthy.
As I expected, Visa swiped with perfectly aimed claws, drawing a lashing of blood.
“Oh no, I’m so sorry.” Pushing the nasty cat away, I grabbed Ryder’s wrist and dragged him into the kitchen. “I don’t know what’s got into her. She’s never been good with strangers.”
Ryder chuckled. “She’s sensing some competition.”
Running the tap, I opened the cupboard to the side and pulled out the small medical kit. Ryder allowed me to wash the shallow scratch with tepid water but pulled away as I opened a tub of antiseptic. “Woman, it’s just a claw mark. It’s fine.”
“But it might get infected. Cats have a lot of bacteria in their claws.”
He shrugged. “Not any worse than the cut on my arm from the barbwire when I rescued Scar. And that’s fine.”
For the first time, fear about rust and tetanus gripped my heart. “Crap, I totally forgot about cleaning that.”
“Well we were rather occupied once Scar was tucked up in bed.”
My cheeks heated remembering our first time. Glancing at the long scab on his forearm, I noticed he wore an abnormally paint-free black t-shirt, making him look healthy and undeniably handsome. “You are up to date with your jabs, right?”
“Yes, Mum, all sorted.” He smirked. “I’m fine, Ves.”
Turning off the tap, I scowled as Visa jumped onto the kitchen bench and sauntered over to me. Her tail stuck straight in the air like a loaded rifle while her snub nose huffed in Ryder’s direction.
A sucker for punishment, Ryder reached out to scratch her back. “Be nice to me, kitty. I bought you catnip, remember?”
I groaned. “Yes, and if you ever do that again, you’re fired.”
“Fired? I didn’t know I’d applied for a job.”
“Oh?” My eyebrow rose. “I thought we were discussing the position of girlfriend and boyfriend the other day. That’s a very important position in any hierarchy.”
He chuckled. “You’re right. Okay, I’ll behave. Wouldn’t want to get fired from the best relationship I’ve ever had.”
Our easy banter dissolved into heart-fluttery awkwardness.
I darted around him to grab my handbag and keys and slip into a soft grey jumper over a black blouse and slacks I’d slipped into after work. Ryder followed me into the lounge, rubbing the back of his neck.
Goosebumps sprang over my arms.
Don’t bring up the marriage comment.
Don't. Do. It.
After sex by the river, we’d both moved on and hadn’t mentioned the slip. It had sat there, however, like a lumbering troll breathing down our necks but we had no way of bringing it up or any desire to.
“Ready to go?” I asked far too brightly with a stupid clown grin.
He half-smiled, shaking his head—fully understanding what made me nervous and allowing the anxious moment to pass. “I have no idea where we’re going but yes. Lead on.”
“Great!”
Striding to the door, I looked over my shoulder at Visa. She sat primly, washing her paw that probably still held Ryder’s blood. She looked up with an evil glint in her eyes.
“You behave, you naughty titty tat. You’ll get dinner when we get back.”
Ryder blinked. “Titty tat?”
I slapped my forehead. “Sorry, childhood thing. When I was young I couldn’t say kitty cat. My mum had a m
oggy who used to let me dress it in doll clothes and push it in my old pram. She became known at titty tat.” I sighed, doing my best to stop telling such embarrassing tales of myself. “Anyway, not important.”
He grinned, coming close to cup my cheek.
My skin instantly ignited beneath his touch.
His thumb caressed me. “Not unimportant. Super important. I want to know everything about you.” Bending a little, his lips met mine in a chaste kiss. He didn’t attempt to add tongue, just content to press warmth against warmth in a familiar and very welcome hello.
My heart accelerated and my bones suddenly became sex-laden with the desire to drag him into my bedroom rather than to the large pet warehouse a thirty minute drive away.
Ending the kiss, he murmured, “Have I told you I love kissing you?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Well, for the relationship scorecard, I do.”
I swayed forward, my arms sweeping up to hug him. I didn’t know what made me do it. I wasn’t a hugger in general but the way he looked at me made everything inside swell like a damn chocolate cake.
He froze as my hands lashed around his waist.
Then he jerked backward, his forehead furrowed. “Whoa, I thought the frisky business was supposed to wait until after your chores.”
My brain was erotically fogged—thanks to him, kisses, and sweet confessions. Errands shmrands. Who cared about such trivial stuff when I could be in bed with him? “Meh, I think I’ve changed my mind.”
I took a step closer, intending to grab his t-shirt and drag him cavewoman style into my lair. However, he practically sprinted to the door and opened it with a chivalrous bow.
What the hell?
He laughed uncomfortably. “Sorry, hugs make me nervous. Let’s go, shall we?” Not waiting for me, he disappeared into the corridor where his loud sigh met my ears.
What on earth was that about?
We’d hugged before—when we said goodbye at his place, during sex, and at the river. Those instances he hadn’t been hugaphobic.
Looking at Visa, I mouthed, “Men. Maybe I should become a lesbian, after all.” At least women were pretty easy to read. ‘I’m fine’ meant do better or leave me alone. Men? What did refusing a hug mean?
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