Can't Touch This (15 page)

TWENTY-FOUR HOURS.

They had to be the hardest (excuse the pun) and longest twenty-four hours of my life.

All day I’d been up a ladder plastering the two-story entry way to my house, and all day I couldn’t stop thinking about Vesper.

I had no calls from the shelter to collect any other mistreated animals in the tri-county area and even visiting the rescued mutts that I did have didn’t ease the maddening lust in my blood.

And she hadn’t messaged me once!

All day.

I couldn’t fucking believe it.

Was my blue balls disease a joke to her? Why hadn’t she returned my convoluted message from this morning? I’d been in the bathroom about to hop into the shower where the usual rub and tug was a no-no, and wanted to take a dick pic and send her way. To show her the state she’d left me in.

This was all her fault.

But I didn’t because I wasn’t an asshole.

But I had sent a nice cordial message instead:
Morning, my sexy vet. I had a dream about you last night. You were in my bed and naked (how come you weren’t naked last night?), and I punished you for being so bloody perfect by making you scream my name while the builders were downstairs listening.

I wasn’t lying.

That dream had almost made me have a wet wake-up call for the first time since I was a damn fifteen-year-old. Normally, I would censor my messages, but this time, I didn’t.

She’d shown me what lived beneath her polite exterior and I wasn’t afraid of being honest anymore.

But that was before she ignored me.

As the day wore on, and my body became covered in plaster dust and paint splatters and David, my foreman and friend, drove me nuts with questions about why I was such a bloody space cadet, I feared I’d done the wrong thing.

At knock off time, after the workmen had retired for the night, I wiped my face with a damp cloth and sat at the second hand kitchen table—I hadn’t bought any new furniture until the build was complete so as not to damage or be overly protective—and unlocked my phone.

Bringing up the current message thread with Vesper, I typed:
Just because I had a dream that involved others listening in and I spanked you last night doesn’t mean that’s all I am. I mean, shit…I don’t know what I mean. I’m not a fuck wit who’s just after sex. That’s basically all I’m trying to say.

Tossing the phone onto the table, I ran my hands through my hair. “Way to go, idiot. If she didn’t think you were a moron before, now she does for sure.”

The phone started dancing as a call came through.

Snatching it up, I didn’t look at caller I.D in my rush to talk to her. “Ves, look I’m going out of my goddamn mind. Come here. I’ll go there. I just really, really need to see—”

“Whoa, gotta stop you right there, bro. Don’t need to know anymore.” My brother’s chuckle came down the line as he sang la la la-la-lah like we used to do as idiot boys.

“You.” I slouched in the chair. “What are you doing interrupting my torture pining for the hottest girl I’ve ever met?”

“Holy shit, did I call the right number? Who are you and what did you do with my brother?”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t be a jerk. I remember what you were like with Gillian in high school. You walked around with a rod in your pants and moonbeams in your eyes for weeks.”

“Yes, until I tapped that, and the curse was broken. I tell you man, women are witches. They have some sort of hocus-pocus that bypasses our brains and turns our dicks into sex zombies.”

I couldn’t deny he had a point.

“So you were happy that the feelings you had for Gillian vanished once you’d been with her a few times?”

I didn’t know why I was sad about that. This thing with Vesper—whatever it was—I wanted it to last, not poof and vanish. I liked this fugue state. I loved being demented with the thoughts of getting her naked and under me, but I also couldn’t wait to get to know her mind and secrets, too. The pieces I’d grown to know I liked.

Really,
really
liked.

“Yeah, thank Christ. That girl was a whiner and a fake.”

“A fake?” I scratched my chin, dislodging plaster dust I’d missed. “Yeah, she’d fake her orgasms and faked her interest in me. She only wanted me for the free rides I could give her in my super fly cruise.”

“By super fly, you mean dad’s hand-me-down Chrysler?”

“The one and only.”

Rupert was two years older than me. His grades were average while mine were high. His attention to school was lacking while his interest in women was as big as King fucking Kong. Me, I was too stuck-up and too fussy. I liked girls—sure, but I didn’t like what they tried to hide.

Rupert went on to be an uber successful franchise owner. When he was seventeen, he ordered some vinyl off an Asian website and painstakingly cut out decals that said
Carson Car Rides
and stuck them on the wheels of our dad’s Chrysler. He got so many compliments and requests for personalised logos, he spent all his free time (and even time at school) carving letters with a pen knife and printing off different fonts on the computer to keep up with demand.

It grew so big, he became known outside the village we lived in and attracted the attention of a large investor.

Overnight, he went from a seventeen-year-old about to drop out from school to a successful business owner with a multimillion dollar backer who made him not only a national star but international too.

Now, his tyre decals, vehicle panel stickers, window logos, even shop designs and boat skins were international hits. His company morphed into Carson Creatives. And he’d been a large sponsor of the indie rally in Singapore last year which locked and loaded his career.

Our parents had been so proud, if not a little confused how little pieces of vinyl cut out and stuck on something as mundane as tyres could become a conglomerate company.

“So, spill little bro. Who is she and what has she done to you?”

I grinned. “Not telling and I still don’t entirely understand what she’s done. I do know I was naked in her house last night and didn’t get to touch her and I was spotted by a neighbour who now thinks I’m her crazy cousin—which in this town with local gossip is not a good thing.”

“Wow, sounds like an interesting one.”

I sighed. “She is.”

“Holy crap, was that a sigh? Did you seriously motherfucking just sigh over this chick?”

I slapped my forehead. Ugh, I sounded like a love-struck sap. “What? Hell no. Don’t be stupid.”

“You did! Oh my God-on-a-pogo, you like her. Like don’t just like her with your pleasure stick like her but like heart-icky like her.”

“Okay, time to shut up.”

“No way. I’ve got to meet this elusive unicorn. I thought you’d never find one.”

“You can talk. How many relationships have you been through now? Twenty?”

“Five long termish and I had legitimate reasons to break it off.”

“Right. You’re just paranoid.”

Rupert huffed. “You’d be paranoid too if you caught you last ex enlisting a computer hacker to crack your banking password.”

“Dude, she didn’t.”

“She did. The bitch.”

“Wow, goes to show having money doesn’t make you safer.”

“Not from the looney toons, anyway.”

We fell silent for a second before Rupe added, “Heads up, I’m coming to you in a couple of weeks. Not to spy on your new piece of ass but to have some R&R. This last conference really took it out of me.”

The thought of seeing my brother almost managed to push aside my crazy desire for Vesper. We hadn’t seen each other in two years. Not from lack of wanting to but with his hectic work schedule and the insane travel he’d been doing, it was hard to be in the same place at the same time with free space just to hang out.

“That’s awesome, Rupe. When will you be here?”

“Two weeks tomorrow. Mind if I crash at your place?”

“Hell, of course. I’ll put you to work. You still know how to use a paintbrush thanks to dad teaching us how to renovate right?”

He groaned. “This is supposed to be a vacation.”

“Vacation schmation. You can still have a beer or four. And we can chat while being productive.”

“Fine. On one condition.”

“Ugh, what is it with people and conditions lately?”

“What?”

“Nothing.” My mind scooted to Vesper and the pact we’d made about not ‘helping’ ourselves out of this mind-numbing situation.

“You don’t still have a billion canine rug rats running around, right? I’m not gonna have to watch where I step in fear of squashing a chinchilla thing?”

“First, they’re called Chihuahuas—or some are at least—and yes, I currently have seventeen looking for new homes.” I laughed. “Hey, maybe you’ll fall in love and take one with you in your suitcase next time you fly away.”

He snorted. “Good luck with that.”

My phone buzzed against my face and I yanked it away far too fast for suaveness. Just as I hoped, Vesper had messaged me.

The first few lines of her message showed up:

Vesper:
I think we have a problem…

Holy fuck, she hated the fact that I’d mentioned us having sex with others listening.

She’s not into voyeurism
.

I was an asshole.

I’d ruined it.

Shit, shit,
shit.

Fisting my phone, I said, “Look, Rupe, I gotta go.”

“Lady lump troubles?”

“She’s not a lump but yes, issues.”

“Tell her to suck it.”

“I told her that already.”

“Oh, you saucy boy.” He laughed. “Fine, cut me off for some broad. I know where your loyalties lie. Don’t forget to welcome me graciously into your house in two weeks. I expect a bed and sheets at least even in that building site you call home.”

“Done and done.” My finger poised over the disconnect button. But before I could sever the call, Rupert added, “Oh, and talking about falling in love with one of your rescue charities…I think the only one in danger of doing that is you. Keep your heart zipped and your pants open little brother. Women be foxes and I don’t want you to be the chicken.”

He hung up.

I had no idea what that meant but I didn’t care.

My fingers shook as I clicked into my messages and opened Vesper’s.

Vesper:
I think we have a problem. First you flash my neighbour with your man meat and then you want dirty builders to hear my orgasm. Are you an exhibitionist, Mr. Carson?

My lips twitched. My fingers flew.

Me:
I seem to remember last night slightly differently but I’m happy to be whatever you want me to be, Ms. Fairfax.

Vesper:
Oh, what a relief. Here I thought you only wanted me for the brownie points you’d get making me come for an audience.

Me:
I wouldn’t earn brownie points their cub scout points (I think) and I would never dream of parading your pleasure around for others to enjoy…unless you asked me to.

Vesper:
You make it sound so appealing.

Me:
All you have to do is say the magic words
.

The flurry of messages paused for a moment and I panicked. Instead of waiting for her to reply, I pressed call.

She took a few rings to answer and my heart pounded by the time her sexy murmur came on the line. “Wanted to hear my voice, huh?”

“You mean your insanely sexy voice?” I smiled. “Always.”

Rustling sounded in the background. I wanted to ask what she was wearing, where she’d been, how her day was, and if she’d thought about me. But I wasn’t a clinger and I wouldn’t come across as a dweeb.

Play it cool, Carson.

“So…you good?” I slapped my forehead.

Smooth.

Real smooth.

She giggled. “Is that your way of easing into a conversation that’s already so loaded with things we’re
not
saying, we might as well let silence take over?”

Hell, this woman just got me.

If this was a spell, then she was the ultimate magician. Shit, she might be so powerful, she was the one who created the earth in six days and then relaxed in heavenly splendour while thinking up ways to make me fall on the seventh.

“Fine…you want to play that card? I want to know everything,” I said. “I want to know what you’re doing right now, what you’ve been doing all day, what you plan on doing tonight. I want to see you. Shit, let me come over there and finish what we started.”

Yep, smoothness just took a flying leap out the boarded up kitchen window.

Vesper’s soft sigh made love to my ear. “Aww, that’s sweet. Are you missing me?”

“Like a bloody crack addict.”