Her hands rose of their own accord to rest against the hard planes of his chest. She felt his heartbeat, as rapid as her own. “But what about your dream, Adam?”
“Ash...” His lips brushed against hers, a gentle tease that left her hungry for more. “You are my dream.”
She wanted to believe him... she truly did. Especially since she wanted him to kiss her—to really kiss her. But she knew Adam was the kind of man who would sacrifice his own happiness for others. Wasn’t that why he started painting the house black and pink just to make her happy? “I thought you wanted to have a home for kids.”
“Oh, I do want a home for kids.” His mouth caressed hers, just for a tantalizing instant. “Our home—you and me.” Another peck. “Our ranch, in the country.” The briefest of kisses. “Our kids.”
She made a futile attempt to push him away. “I can’t think when you’re kissing me.”
“Compared to kissing, thinking is highly overrated.”
For an instant, he flashed a teasing smile, and then his lips were touching hers again. Harder. Seeking more. His fingers traced a fiery path along her jawline and buried in her hair, crushing her face against his. Her limbs trembled as he deepened the kiss.
When his mouth pulled away, he held her close, his forehead against hers.
“I will never hurt you, Ash,” he panted. “I promise you. Never.”
“I know.”
How can he be so demanding and yet so tender? So forceful and yet so sweet?
“Ash?” His lips nipped at hers, sending tingles down her neck.
“Yes?”
“I might want a lot of kids.” He raised his brows, an unspoken question.
“I’ll agree to have four.” When his face fell, she poked his ribs and grinned. “We’ll adopt the rest. Or foster. However many you want.”
In an instant his arms wrapped around her waist, hugging her against him and lifting her into the air. She squealed as he spun around, sending the earth spinning.
“Annalee Scott Hendrix... I love you!”
“I love you, too, Adam... uhhh... Hang on—I don’t know your middle name.”
“It’s—”
“Wait, let me guess. Your middle name must be Grumpy, right?”
“Very funny. Have you been talking to Teresa, at the laundromat?”
“Who’s Teresa?”
“Never mind. My middle name is actually Virile.”
“Or maybe Conceited or Deluded?”
“Could be Crazy, because you drove me there. Or Lucky, because you’re mine.”
“No, Lucky is the cat’s name.” She pushed back, studying his face, and he let her slide to the ground. “Weren’t you in the house with Lucky earlier? Why aren’t you having an allergy attack?”
“Antihistamines.”
“Oh.”
“That, and Kujo ate her.”
“What? Is Kujo in the house with her?” Ash strained her ears for the howling sound of her terrorized cat.