Page 61 of Puppy Kisses

“There haven’t been any other partners, Adam,” she said and ran a hand through his hair, tucking a loose strand behind his ear. From where he sat, it felt like a loving gesture—a possessive one. The kind a woman might give a boyfriend or husband of long standing. “Since the moment we met, there’s only been you.”

The seat fell back with a sudden start. Adam went from being mostly vertical to knocked flat in less time than it took to blink—and in more ways than one. His hands fell away from Dawn’s body, his head whirling as he took stock of his bearings.

He was in her car, he knew. He’d just reduced a man to an angry, sputtering mess. He was harder than he’d ever been in his entire life.

And he also felt as though the world had suddenly started spiraling out of control.

“Oops. Sorry.” Dawn laughed and positioned herself more comfortably astride him. “I meant that to be a lot smoother. I forgot how fast these seats move. You okay?”

It took him a moment to find his tongue, a moment longer to muster the word he knew he needed to say.

“No.”

“Did you hit your head?” She leaned down and planted a kiss on the center of his forehead. Like the hair ruffle, it was an incredibly romantic gesture—and one so much unlike her that he felt the world starting to tilt again. “Don’t worry. I can fix that. I know just where to kiss you to make you all better.”

As if to prove it, she slithered down his body, her movements neat and agile and designed to make him forget his own name. And he wanted to do that—he really did. He wanted to abandon himself to Dawn’s laughter and light, let her kiss away all his troubles, enjoy a quickie in her car on the side of a busy highway.

“No,” he said again.

This time, she took note, halting the tug of her hands on his fly. Adam struggled to a sitting position. Instead of feeling intoxicated, the stuffy heat of the car was starting to feel overwhelming.

“I’m sorry, but do you think we could open a window?” he asked.

“Of course.” Her reply was swift and free of embarrassment, and she made quick work of getting a semicool breeze moving into the car. “Is that better?”

“No,” he said for the third time. It wasn’t exactly a lie—the temperature was much more bearable, yes, but he was still finding it difficult to gain his bearings.

“Adam, are you okay?” Dawn scooted off his lap and climbed into the driver’s-side seat, moving over the console and emergency brake with easy agility. “You look really pale. Let me get the air-conditioning going, and then we can—”

He stopped her with a hand on her arm. “I’m fine. The temperature is fine. It’s just…” He shook his head in an effort to collect his thoughts. They felt scattered, abandoned,lost. “Is that true? What you said?”

“What I said?” she echoed.

“About you and me. About your partners.” He swallowed. “That you haven’t been with anyone but me in the past six months.”

“Oh. Um. Yes.” Her voice carried a note of light anxiety. “Why? That’s not a problem, is it? You don’t…mind?”

He could have laughed out loud at such a ridiculous question. Did he mind that the woman he was sleeping with—a woman he admired and adored—wasn’t sharing her bed with other people? Did he mind that he was the only man to feel her squirm underneath him, to capture her screams of ecstasy with his kiss? Did he mind that the best thing that had ever happened to him was his and his alone?

He wasn’t so unique that the thought of having Dawn to himself didn’t thrill and delight him. Under any other circumstances, he’d have pulled her back into his lap and shown her exactly how thrilled and delighted he was.

But that wasn’t the deal between them. That wasn’t the game.

“Adam, don’t look so worried,” Dawn said. Even though they no longer needed the air conditioner, she started the car and shot a blast of cold air out the vents. The hum of the engine and the coolant masked any detectable emotion in her voice, making it difficult for him to get an accurate read on her. “I don’t mind if you’ve been seeing other women. Exclusivity isn’t a conversation we had.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her that of course he hadn’t been seeing any other women, that like her, he’d been faithful from the moment they first met. Not only was serial monogamy an intrinsic part of his nature, but what man could even consider kissing another woman once he’d felt Dawn Vasquez’s lips give way under his? The idea of seeing anyone else—ofbeingwith anyone else—was ludicrous to the point of being laughable.

In fact, he doubted whether he’d ever be able to fully recover once Dawn left his life for good. And he didn’t just mean the sex. Yes, it would be difficult to find anyone so uninhibited and explosive and, well, fulfilling, but those weren’t everything.

He’d never find anyone who made him laugh like she did. Who filled his days with a light he’d never known was missing. Who gave his life meaning and purpose beyond the gates of Dearborn Ranch.

Dearborn Ranch—his first life, his first love, and the worst thing in the world he could tie Dawn down to.

Fuck.The realization hit him harder than the blast of cold air, chilling him to the bone. What he’d never find again was a woman he loved even half as much as he loved this one.

“Why?” he found himself asking. His lips felt dry, and it took almost everything he had to get the word out. He already knew that he’d fallen too hard and too fast for Gigi, and that letting her go would mean ripping the heart out of his chest. It would hurt, but it had to be done.

But to add Dawn to that pain, to listen as she faded in the distance, would end him.