by Lucy Gilmore
Her thanks was more than enough to set the seal on their exchange, but she followed it up by adjusting her body so that there was nothing but delicious friction between them. Every part of him yearned to free himself and do this the right way—hard and fast, careful and slow, over and over—but he hadn’t been kidding about that protection thing.
“Wait,” he said with a low groan. It took all his willpower to resist the sweet, intoxicating pull of her, but he managed it. He feared her skin would tell the tale of his restraint, the press of his fingers probably leaving a mark, but she didn’t murmur a word of complaint. “Unless you’ve got condoms in your glove box, we’re going to need to put this on hold.”
She didn’t, as common sense demanded, pull her body back from his. If anything, she tilted her hips even more, her breasts pressing up into his face and burying him with their pillowy softness.
“I’m good if you are,” she said. “I recently started the pill.”
Although nothing would have delighted him more than to take this woman right here and now, his own common sense refused to budge. It was the Adam Dearborn way—duty and safety first, pleasure second. Not very glamorous, sure, but much less likely to result in the spread of HPV.
“We still can’t,” he said. “What about—?”
“I’m good if you are,” she repeated. “I got tested about six months ago and received the A-OK.”
The A-OK sounded wonderful. The A-OK sounded like everything he wanted in this world.
“There’s nothing standing in the way of us doing whatever we want, whenever we want to,” she said. “Personally, I think we should do it soon. I don’t know how much more suspense I can take.”
He didn’t either, but he still managed to croak out, “But what about your other partners since then?”
Her movements stopped, her thighs straddling his. For what had to be the first time in the entirety of their relationship, she seemed unsure of herself—hesitant. He might have regretted his practicality in asking such a question except that it was the exact sort of thing that made Dawn such a delight. She didn’t hold back from being who she was, didn’t shy away from the fact that her generous sexuality was as much a part of her as her generous heart.
Which was why her next words came as such a blow.
“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—of being with 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 li
sten as she faded in the distance, would end him.
“Why didn’t we have the conversation? Well, I presume it’s because there was no need. I mean, it’s obviously not something you’re ready for. Not,” she added quickly, “that I’m judging you for it. You’re an attractive, virile man. I’d be more surprised to find that you don’t have hordes of women lining up to take advantage of you.”
It was just like her to say something so easy and generous, but Adam forced himself to brush that part aside. What he wanted to know—what he had to know—was why she’d put all other men aside for him.
“No, why haven’t you slept with anyone else?” he asked. His voice didn’t sound like his own, but at least it didn’t sound how he felt. Wild. Desperate.
He felt her shrug next to him before she began tapping a random beat on the steering wheel. “I didn’t want to.”
“Why?” he persisted. He had to know. He had to understand.
The tapping stopped. “Because you’re enough.”
All of the air left his lungs at once. It was such a simple thing for her to say—such a normal collection of words—that emptiness shouldn’t have been his first reaction at hearing them. If anything, he should have been filled, buoyed, delighted.
He wasn’t.
The woman he loved thought he was enough. The woman he loved wanted only him.
The woman he loved was categorically, devastatingly wrong.
“Oh,” he said flatly, fearful of what would happen if he loosened the rein on his emotions even a little. “That’s nice. Thank you.”
“So…are we good?” Dawn’s voice was equally flat, equally controlled. “We’ll keep using condoms, keep this conversation in the wings where it belongs?”
“Yeah. That’s probably for the best.”
He almost crossed his fingers in an attempt to draw as much luck around him as he could. He needed Dawn to put the car in drive. He needed her to take them to town, where the shiny new cattle bander would force any and all thoughts of intimacy out of their minds. Otherwise, there was a good chance he’d tell her what he was really thinking.
You’re enough for me, too.
It was an easy enough sentence to say—full of meaning yet promising nothing—but he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop there.
Dawn was enough for him. She was everything to him. She was the first thing he thought about in the morning and the last thing he dreamed of at night.
And he couldn’t, shouldn’t, wouldn’t ask her to share in a life as small and demanding as his. Not because he was afraid she’d say no, but because there was a chance, however remote, that she’d say yes.
“Well, that felt good, didn’t it?” Dawn asked, her voice bright. She also did all those things he’d been hoping for—buckled her seat belt and got the car moving again. “Not as good as a quick fuck on the side of the road, obviously, but I wish you could have seen the look on Murphy’s face when you threatened to tattle to Sheriff Jenkins.”
Adam relaxed into his seat and gave himself over to the familiar comfort of Dawn’s playfulness. He should have known that she wouldn’t fall into maudlin tears or berate him for not saying what was in his heart. This feeling of complete and utter heartbreak might be new for him, but she’d seen enough of this world and its inhabitants to be able to move on with her life.
And moving on with her life was exactly what Adam needed her to do. Not for his sake, but for hers. She was a woman who deserved to reach incredible heights, to experience everything this world had to offer with joy and enthusiasm.
He couldn’t be the reason she settled for anything less than extraordinary.
“I didn’t tattle,” he protested, his tone matching hers. “I threatened in a highly masculine and intimidating way.”
She laughed before pressing her foot heavily on the gas and shooting them into traffic. “Well, whatever you call it, it was a glorious thing to behold. I’ll always consider you my white knight, Adam Dearborn.”
He made a face. “Please don’t. If there’s one thing I can promise you, it’s that I’m not the hero you’ve been looking for.”
She paused. The exigencies of traffic might have been demanding her attention, but Adam had the feeling there was more to her silence than that.
“Don’t worry,” she eventually said. “If there’s one thing I know, it’s that fairy-tale endings are never everything they’re cracked up to be.”
Chapter 13
It was just like Dawn’s sisters to know exactly when to show up with fun surprises and serious distractions.
“It’s about time you got home!” Sophie yanked open the front door to the home they’d once shared just as Dawn was about to slip her key in. Her sister had a bottle of champagne in one hand, her whole body vibrating with some unknown excitement. “We were about to give up and start drinking without you.”
Dawn blinked, taking in the sight of her sister with a slightly bemused air. It was always nice to see her, yes, and she’d never say no to hand-delivered Veuve Clicquot, but she was still reeling from her day with Adam.
“Hello to you, too, Soph,” she managed. “What’s the party for?”
Lila appeared next to Sophie and dropped an airy kiss on Dawn’s cheek. “Have you ever needed a reason for a party?”
Actually, yes. Contrary to popular opinion, Dawn didn’t regularly crack fifty-dollar bottles of champagne and invite everyone she knew to drink it with her. She liked parties, it was true. Most people did. They also liked champagne and having a good time and the occasional bout of casual sex. None of these things made her an anomaly.
To hear the people in her life tell the tale, however, everything Dawn did was completely and utterly frivolous. With her sisters, it wasn’t so bad, since they assumed her frivolity took the form of fun-filled sprees of drink and dance. With Adam, though…
She took a deep breath and forced a smile, since to do anything else would only open the floodgates to questions she had no intention of answering.
Adam sees me exactly the way everyone else does, and that’s all there is to it. It didn’t mean anything. He was allowed to sleep with all the women he wanted, share any parts of himself he felt inclined to, hide any parts he wanted to keep tucked away. In fact, that probably explained what he was doing with her in the first place. With Dawn Vasquez, what you saw was what you got. She promised a good time, a quick fuck, easy intimacy with no strings attached—and that was exactly what he asked of her. Nothing more, nothing less.
She wasn’t going to punish him just because somewhere along the way, she’d made the mistake of falling for him.
“You’re right,” she said brightly. Her smile felt like it was about to split her face, but she wasn’t going to look this gift champagne in the mouth. Not today, at any rate. “I don’t need a reason to party. Crack that sucker open and blast some Lily Allen. We haven’t had a feminist sing-off in ages.”
Sophie pulled the bottle out of her reach, taunting her with the radiant happiness shining out of her eyes. Harrison had gotten back to town a few days ago, so Dawn could only imagine that they’d been reunioning harder than two people had ever reunioned before. Sophie always glowed like that when he returned from his fire crew.
“It just so happens that we’re here on a mission,” Sophie said. “We’ve got a surprise for you.”
“A surprise?” Dawn echoed. In the normal way of things, she also loved surprises, but she wasn’t sure how many more of those she could take today. The look on Adam’s face when she’d admitted her fidelity had been enough to last a lifetime. “What kind of surprise?”
“One that’s hopefully going to take care of a few of those bags under your eyes.” Lila swung her key ring around her finger and grabbed the oversized beige purse she carried everywhere. “No offense, Dawn, but you’re looking a little peaked.”
Peaked was polite Lila-speak fo
r looking like hell—a thing Dawn had been fully able to ascertain for herself in the rearview mirror on the way home. Her skin was pale, and her mascara showed an alarming tendency to run.
“Thanks, Sis. I feel a little peaked.”
“This doesn’t have anything to do with that guy, does it?” Sophie asked with an insight Dawn would have gladly dispensed with.
“Which guy?” she asked. As if just remembering his existence, she added, “You mean Adam?”
Sophie nodded and watched her. Lila’s gaze became downright dangerous. If Dawn wanted to get out of this day intact, she was going to have to tread carefully.
“After the things we did in my car today, I definitely hope not,” she said with a toss of her hair. It had grown sweaty and shiny with the heat, its usual bounce flattened to match her spirits, but she pretended not to notice. “In fact, it’s better if one of you drives to wherever we’re going until I can get that thing detailed.”
Lila’s eyes widened, but Sophie just laughed and linked her arms through Dawn’s. “Let’s take Lila’s car,” she said. “That way she can drive…and you can tell me all the sordid details.”
* * *
“Uh, guys?” Dawn blinked as Lila lifted her hands away from Dawn’s eyes, taking a moment to adjust to the suddenly bright lights. “I hate to break it to you, but an empty living room in an empty house isn’t a surprise. It’s depressing.”
A cork popped as Sophie opened the bottle of champagne and began liberally pouring it out into three plastic flutes. “There. I filled yours to the top. Now it’s a celebration.”
Dawn accepted the glass but didn’t sip, looking around the house with interest. Her sisters had pulled out all the stops to make this an affair worth noting, even going so far as to tie a blindfold around her eyes and make her swear not to count the stoplights to guess where they were going.
For a brief moment, Dawn’s heart had swelled with the thought that Adam had somehow gotten to her sisters, asked them to intervene on his behalf so he could pull out a grand, romantic gesture fit for the movies. But that moment hadn’t only been brief; it had also been foolhardy. Things like that didn’t happen to her. Men liked her just fine. A few of them had even loved her. But the ease with which she slipped into their lives was matched only by the ease with which she eventually slipped back out.