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There was no shame attached to his attitude. Not that she felt ashamed about sex, but it had been so long. She could barely remember what it was like to be attracted to someone in an all-encompassing, pulse-spiking, loins-throbbing way. That part of her had gone dormant years ago, even as she and Greg continued their once-a-week coupling, something she engaged in for his sake rather than hers. A way to keep him invested.
Look how that worked out.
Now she had this very sexual being in her place of work, and it made her think things.
Naughty things.
Such as how good he looked in those shorts that she’d had no choice but to urge him to follow the rules and cover up.
Or how his sinful mouth screwed up in concentration as he tried to recall the answers to her quiz.
Her mind had definitely strayed to that video, the one from the nightclub. Two women servicing him, and Dex O’Malley lying back like the lord of the manor, accepting all that pleasure as his right.
She couldn’t imagine being that free, not when she’d lived in a cage of her own design for longer than a decade.
But she needed to start with baby steps, not corrupting thoughts about a volunteer in her charge. Less focus on the transient pull of sexual attraction and more on building a connection. In the Skin Deep app, she hovered a fingertip over the contact button for Jerome.
And tapped it.
8
Tuxedo
Domestic short hair
Likes: Staring out the window
Dislikes: Grandma Jean because she uses all caps in her text messages
Dex would never have suspected that working with animals was so hard. Of course, he hadn’t done anything with an animal yet other than been bitten by one. Instead, he was stuck with administration and janitorial duties—inventory and cleaning, all behind the scenes, too. Sophie had insisted. We can’t have anyone seeing you there just yet. Any sightings have to be carefully planned.
He understood that, and it seemed Ashley was in on it as well, acting as if his time here allowed him to take a break from the seedier parts of his existence. Here he could be an ordinary joe, one who wouldn’t be “bothered” by fans or reporters or puck bunnies.
Maybe it was good. A chance to catch his breath. He could take a little time to just be, which meant that he could spend time with the kittens because better that than Dex himself. Ashley might have insisted he stay away from the animals until he had “proper training,” but screw that. A week into his sentence, he waited until she’d gone on her lunch break and snuck into the cattery.
An older woman with purple hair was parsing food from a large plastic jug into small bowls.
“Hey there,” she said, looking up.
“Hello. I’m here to see a kitten.”
She grinned. “Well, you’ve come to the right place. Dex, right?”
“Yeah, that’s right. I’m helping out for a while.”
“Nice. I’m Perry. So, are you a kitten tourist or are you looking for a fur-ever friend?”
“More of a tourist.” He moved in closer and walked along the aisle, his gaze arcing over the multiple cardboard boxes. They were deep and filled with small blankets, bowls of water, and food. From each one, big, luminous eyes met his.
“Wow, how many cats do you have here?”
“Right now? About 200, roughly split between adults and kittens. We usually try to place the kittens in foster homes, so they get more supervision, but sometimes we don’t have enough applicants.”
Dex had never seen so many cats in one place. “I wish I could bring one home, but I travel a lot for work.”
He shuffled along, looking for the little gray one who’d taken a shine to him a week ago. “There he is! Hey, little guy, what’s your name?”
On the wall behind the box, a polaroid said Mittens, which made sense because he had white paws. Beside the name was a note with Likes and Dislikes.
