Page 32 of Puppy Kisses

“I want you to be naked with me for five minuteswithoutforcing me to move faster than light,” he replied, his voice low. He gave the razor a wiggle. “I want you to have to focus on something that isn’t my cock.”

She took the razor. “Well, I don’t see why you’re always determined to take things slow. There’s something to be said for a hard, fast shower quickie.”

Partly out of a desire to punish him for eking this process out, and partly because she was thrilled that he was so determined to make this worth the wait, she nudged him into a more comfortable shaving position. As this entailed her legs spreading open and straddling his in a semistanding position,comfortablewas a matter of debate. Their bodies were touching in all the places that throbbed and yearned for more, and it would have been incredibly easy for her to shift a little bit to the right and feel the full glory of him inside her.

But that wasn’t the game. For whatever stoic moral code Adam lived by, they were going to make this as painfully prolonged as possible.

“I can’t hold this position for very long, or I’m going to slip and accidentally slice your jugular,” she warned. “You’d better hold me in place.”

Actually, she did enough spin class at the gym to be able to brace her thighs like this for hours on end, but she wanted to feel his arms around her. This seemed as good an excuse as any, especially when he grumblingly did as she asked. Those oh-so-powerful forearms, made for catching cows and hefting bales of hay, wrapped around her. His hands spanned the smallest curve of her waist, the glide of his skin over hers like falling down a long, wet chute.

“This seems like a trap,” Adam said, every muscle of his body tensing around hers.

“You’re the one who wanted a precoital grooming session,” she pointed out. “Do you normally use any kind of product? I don’t see any shaving cream.”

“Third bottle on the right. Between the conditioner and the shower cleaner.”

Like most parts of Adam’s house, the shower was neatly and simply organized, every item in its place. Dawn had no idea how long it took to get a house like this—with every end table in a perfect location, every spice in the kitchen arranged to be quickly and easily pulled out—but she liked it. So few things in her life were like this. Her own bedroom was a haphazard whirl of discarded outfits and lost earrings, her shower a smorgasbord of broken razors and empty shampoo bottles that needed to be thrown out.

“Seems like dangerous work, putting a blade against your skin without being able to see what you’re doing,” Dawn said as she filled her palm with a handful of white, lightly scented foam. “But you never seem to have any nicks or cuts.”

Since she was busy lathering him up, all he could offer in reply was a soft grunt.

“I know, I know. It’s because you’re not in a hurry to get it done.” She moved her fingers in a circular pattern along the sharp, finely chiseled lines of his jaw. “Adam Dearborn is a careful man, a meticulous man. When he sets about doing a thing, he does it all the way.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It’s not,” she replied, tilting her head to view her handiwork. She’d missed a small spot near his ear, so she reached up and finished the job, her hand lingering to touch the side of his face a moment too long. “It’s the opposite of how I do things, that’s all. No one has ever accused me of being careful. To be perfectly honest, I’m not sure I know how.”

She’d meant the words playfully, a light banter to keep this whole shower situation moving along to its natural and inevitable conclusion, but Adam’s hold on her tightened. One of his hands was pretty much cupping her ass by this point, but he hadn’t strayedtoofar from neutral territory.

“I trust you,” he said simply.

“You shouldn’t. I could easily hurt you.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “Youcouldcause me pain. But I think you’ll find that I’m not so easy to crack.”

She didn’t argue with him. Adam Dearborn definitely wasn’t an easy man to crack. She’d spent the last six months trying to find a hole somewhere in this ironclad exterior of his, but nothing seemed to work. Nothing she knew how to do, anyway.

If there was one thing shedidknow, however, it was the landscape of this man’s body. If she could paint, she’d have been able to perfectly re-create his likeness on canvas. If she were a poet, she might be able to describe every scar that told the tale of his youth. Unfortunately, she was neither of those things and never would be.

She was Dawn Vasquez, decent at training puppies and great at sex. It wasn’t much of a curriculum vitae, but it was all she had.

Although she’d done a lot of things with men in her lifetime, this was her first time shaving one. As soon as she started, she realized why. Nothing could have prepared her for the sheer intimacy of running the safety blade over Adam’s jaw. She couldn’t hear the scrape of his stubble giving way under the pounding of the shower, but she felt the low rumble of it. Over his strong, wide cheekbones. Down his square jaw. Skipping lightly over the scar that ran from the bottom of his chin to the side of one ear—an accident he laughingly referred to as the time Phoebe had thought it would be a good idea to rearrange the living room furniture. She even took a moment to press her thumb in the small divot in the middle of his chin before moving the razor over it. Each part of him took on new meaning as she explored his skin at such close proximity.

“Tilt your head up a little?” she asked when she reached the bottom of his jawline. Her voice was oddly quiet, but her face was so near to his that he didn’t have to strain to hear her. “I need to get your neck.”

“Uh-oh. That’s where the danger is. I’ll try not to breathe.”

“You laugh, but I can see your pulse.” She stopped her index and middle fingers on top of the gently throbbing beat of his carotid. “One wrong move, and I could end you right here and now.”

“You could end me at any point, Dawn, and you know it. You’ve known it from the start of this.”

She opened her mouth to protest but wasn’t sure how to set about doing it. Mostly because he was wrong on every level. Not only was she physically incapable of getting the better of this man, but she doubted she had much emotional sway, either. That kind of power required him to feel something for her. Somethingreal. Not this temporary, meaningless fling.

Even though she hadn’t yet finished with the scruff on his neck, she clipped the razor back into its place on the shower wall. She also straightened her legs so that she was no longer halfway propped up by Adam’s arms. She was on her own two feet again—on familiar ground, so to speak.

“I don’t want to end you, Adam,” she said, watching him. She’d missed a patch on his left cheek as well as his neck, but she wasn’t about to let that bother her. Especially since she had every intention of turning her attention—and her hands—elsewhere. “What I want, and what you’re making very difficult, is toenjoyyou.”