Page 113 of The Rancher's Secret Relationship

"He gave me ten hours—-"

"Then the sooner you give me an answer, the better."

"H-How..."

I can't believe I'm considering this.

"How will this work exactly?"

"I accept all kinds of payment methods," he drawls.

What does that even mean?

"Four installments sound good to you?"

"I..."

"Perfect. I'll take the first payment now if you don't mind."

I don't under—-mmph.

My knees fold at the first touch of his lips, and my hands press against his chest...only to end up clutching his shirt when his kiss suddenly turns into a ruthless demand for submission.

The fierce pressure of his mouth steals the air from my lungs, leaving me dizzy. It’s relentless, a kiss that feels more like a battle for control, and yet my lips part with a whimper, betraying my resistance. His touch is fire, scorching away my doubt until I’m no longer sure if I’m giving in to him...or to the part of me that wants this just as much.

He cradles my face between his strong hands as his tongue sweeps into my mouth in a passionate stroke of possession. The lines between right and wrong blur into each other. I'm kissing him back instead of trying to escape. My tongue is dancing with his instead of shying away. And when he finally lifts his head, and his violet eyes glitter down on mine—-

Oh no.

All it takes is one kiss to reveal the horrifying truth.

I'm already his, with or without Sunlight.

The Real Villain

WE'RE ALREADY ON THEmove when I decide to come clean, but my former hostage proves unappreciative of the truth.

"Youthreateneda mantwiceyour size with a fake gun."

His tone is calm as ever, but it's the glint in his eyes that has my stomach flipping. Why am I suddenly convinced that he's the type of man who can commit murder without ever raising his voice?

"I just wanted to scare people if I have to. I didn't want to...actually kill anyone?" My voice ends up at a squeaky note, and his judgy violet eyes are completely to blame. Why is he making me feel guilty for being against violence?

"I see."

Oh, phew.

I'm glad he totally gets it.

"Your genius idea for preventing bloodshed was by arming yourself with a toy gun—-"

Or not.

"—-while up against the type of man who sees nothing wrong in potentially harming your dog."

"I don't think Migs—-"

His jaw noticeably clenches, and I stop speaking.

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