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Vance wakes before dawn; I know because he pulls the duvet over us, and when I pull my eyelids open, there’s no light seeping through the blinds. He tucks my face against his throat and kisses my hair.

"Go to sleep, McD. I gotcha..."

When I awaken the next morning, I find him smiling at me, lying on his side and sipping coffee with his hand on my hip, all possessive-like.

He gives me a slow smile. "You sleep okay?"

"Better than ever."

He leans down to brush his lips over my forehead. "I love when you wake up."

I fold an arm behind my head, feeling self-conscious. “Do I look funny or something?”

"Never. Sometimes I wake up first, and then I'm waiting for you. Eagerly." He waggles his brows.

I run my hand over his forearm. "Don't stop."

"I think you know that's not possible." He smiles gently.

“Yeah, because I’m lucky.”

“Because you’re mine,” he says.

We snuggle together for a long time, V setting his coffee down so he can rub my back…and then we’re kissing. Then he's in me, and I'm groaning. Then he’s cupping my cockhead and I'm shouting, making a mess of my lower abdomen. When V’s eyes open, he drags a fingertip through it. He’s smirking as he leans down and kisses my cheek.

I bite his mouth, and he nips my chin.

“God, it’s hot when I’m inside you,” he rasps.

"I love when you’re in me.” I swallow, trying to give him more than I do sometimes. Share more. “I love the way I can't control what moment I come because I just...explode."

He grins like Cheshire Cat. "You wanna get a shower?"

"If you get one with me."

He takes my hand, and we step into the boat’s tiny shower stall like that—holding hands. He soaps me up—as always, extra gentle with my backside, almost reverent.

"Thank you,” I tell him as I soap his shoulders.

"For what?" He leans his cheek against the top of one of my hands.

"Just for everything,” I whisper.

I don’t know how this will work out—with the church—but I know at the end of every day, I get to climb in bed with Vance. Particularly if nobody kills him. I think about that as I fire the boat up and point toward the dock. I need to touch base again with Rayne’s security guard—the one he doesn’t know he has. Be sure the guy is being discreet so V doesn’t feel like a caged animal, but also impeccably thorough so no one gets near him. We even have security outside now, in the garage and at or near all the exterior doors. Heck, we have security for the buildings I’m not even in.

That’s what you’ve done to the place—being somewhere that you don’t belong.

I shut that voice down as we idle toward the dock. V helps me close up shop, and by the time we’re moving up the stone stairs toward my aunt’s house, I’ve got my mind parked in a better place.

Unlike last time we were here, we manage to get into the car without incident. Vance mentions last time—“that officer was such a fan”—and I can’t help wondering if she still is. Actually, I guess she is, since she tried to comfort me the night I was outside Rayne’s hospital room. Thinking about that makes me feel guilty. I remember being frustrated in the moment, and I hope I didn’t aim that her way.

“You’re gonna get a wrinkle there,” V teases. He narrows his brows to show me, and I shoot him an exaggerated glare. Then I lay my seat back and shut my eyes, letting his thumb stroke my knuckles.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs as I crack my eyelids open and glimpse one of the streets about five minutes away from our house.

How does he always know when I feel down? Am I just obvious—more and more, I’m trying to be an open book for him, in a way I’ve never been able to be with anyone—or is V just really good? Probably both, I decide.

“I know,” I say. “I just wish this month was over.”

“What’s the worst thing you can imagine?” V asks. “You know, like what’s your worst case scenario? Has Derek the therapist asked you this already?”

He hasn’t. I suck a breath in and try to think of the answer. “Someone else…attacking us.” I swallow hard. “Especially you.”

“What do you see? When you see something that seems like it would be really awful?”

I don’t want to think about this.

“I know it sucks,” Rayne says, “but I bet you have this shit cycling through your brain all day, Sky.”

I squeeze my eyes shut. “I do.”

“So give it to me. What’s the worst?”

“People accosting us. When we’re…out on the sidewalk. Maybe on a date.” Or at the courthouse. “Sometimes there’ll be a crowd that…doesn’t like you. You can feel their animosity. As a pastor. You know, there are some people who think I’m a fraud or whatever. Who think my family made its money through the church. No one likes having haters.” I try to give him a smile.

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