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The guy sent more roses today, so he knows where I live and obviously is watching the house.” The idea made her want to puke.

The sheriff leaned toward her. “I can take you somewhere safe.”

“So can I,” Raine said. “She’s safe with me, Sheriff. Why don’t you go find her stalker?”

The sheriff stared intently. “Where were you when the bomb went off, Mariana?”

“I was sleeping in my bedroom.” She chewed on her bottom lip and shivered.

“And you?” The sheriff turned to Raine.

Raine pulled her closer against his side. “I was sleeping in the guest room.”

The sheriff looked from one to the other of them. “So it’s possible you created this entire situation and Mariana would have no clue. Right?”

“I did not bomb my own truck,” Raine spoke slowly.

“Why don’t I believe you?” The sheriff shook his head. “Mariana, please trust me. Get away from this man.”

She only had a second to go with her gut, and she shook her head. “I’m fine. He isn’t the stalker.” God, she hoped her instincts were on track this time.

What if she was wrong?

Chapter 8

The anger rushing through Raine’s veins actually burned. This stalker, whoever he was, had dared to bomb the truck with Mariana very close inside the house. Oh, Raine had planned to find the guy, teach him a lesson, and then turn him over to the law. Now he just wanted to cut off the bastard’s head.

“I’m sorry about your truck,” Mariana murmured, handing him a glass of wine and retaking her seat on the sofa. Now that the sheriff and his imbecile of a son had gone, the atmosphere in the room no longer was filled with tension.

“I don’t care about the truck.” Raine accepted the drink and downed it in two swallows. Heat splashed through his stomach and down his throat.

She curled one leg beneath her and turned to face him. “I might’ve put you in danger.”

His fingers tingled with the need to sit her on his lap and comfort her. “I’m not worried about danger.” The more time he spent with her, the stronger this pull became between them. The branding mark on his palm seared through his skin to bone with insistence. He should’ve heard or sensed the bomber, even though he’d been asleep. The illness was slowly taking away his abilities, even with Mariana just in the next room. He had to find this guy before he started losing his strength. Mariana could never see him like that.

She reached out and touched his arm. “Are you okay? Any stress can’t be good for your condition.”

His condition? Oh, for God’s sakes. He took her glass, placed it on the coffee table, and lifted her onto his lap. “The last person you need to worry about right now is me.”

Her mouth formed a small ‘o’ and then she settled against him. The scent of her hair, honey and vanilla, wafted up and tempted him. “Why won’t you tell me about the possible treatments?” She placed her palm right over his heart.

“You’re all I need right now,” he murmured, enjoying her touch way too much.

She grinned. “You are so corny.”

Since he’d decided not to mate her, he couldn’t tell her the whole truth. Unable to stop himself, he leaned down and kissed her. Sweet and gentle, going slow. The woman tasted like peaches, even after drinking the potent wine. God, he fucking loved peaches.

She sighed and leaned against him, tilting her head back to give him better access.

He took the invitation and delved deep, putting everything he couldn’t say into the kiss. The longing and the frustration as well as the acceptance and the desire. She got all of him—even if it was only for a few moments. Then he released her mouth. “You should go back to bed. I’ll stay out here and keep watch.”

“I don’t want to go back to bed.” She nipped his neck. “Unless you want to come with me.”

Hunger slaked him, but he kept his hold loose. “Not a good idea. I hit you with a lot tonight, and then a bomb went off. You don’t need to ease my pain, Mariana.” Yeah, she was a sweetheart.

She levered back and met his gaze evenly. “I’m not trying to ease you, and I’m not overwhelmed. We’ve been attracted to each other since our first meeting, you’re not my patient, and we both know how short life can be.” Her focus dropped to his mouth. “I’ve never been a game player, and right now, neither one of us has time to play a game. Do you want me or not?”

Considering she was sitting on his rock-hard erection, the question was rather redundant. “You know I do.” This could be a colossal mistake. How was he going to touch her—finally touch her—and not mark her for life? For eternity? “You don’t know what you’re offering.” He swept a tendril away from her lovely face.

“I’m offering myself,” she whispered, sliding around to face him. To straddle him. “That’s all. Just you and me—exploring whatever this is between us for what time we have.”

It was more than he’d ever thought he’d get. It was more than he could refuse. For the first time in his long life, he lied to himself. He kissed her again, tasting her sweetness and telling himself that it was just a couple of kisses. He’d stop before they went too far.

The beast of his soul laughed at him, even as it growled in need. There was no ‘too far.’ Not for him. It wasn’t in his nature to hold back, and if he had a sense of honor, he’d let her go right now. Or he’d tell her the full truth—and that was unacceptable. Too soon, he’d be gone, and he would leave her with a knowledge it wasn’t safe for her to have. He had to stop this.

But then she scooted even closer, core to core, and dug her hands into his hair. Her kiss was wild, beyond anything he’d

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