Chapter Thirteen

When Bobby appeared at the door of the sheriff’s office, Naomi ran into his arms, ignoring the painful jolt in her shoulder. If Pa hadn’t convinced him, she’d do it herself.

“Bobby, Bobby,” she cried into his neck.

“God, I love you,” he rasped, raining kisses over her cheeks, her jaw line, her neck.

She shuddered as his lips tormented her flesh. Her heart raced. It was now safe in his keeping. Where it was meant to be.

He took her lips and ravished her in a deep soul-searing kiss. His tongue danced around hers, surging, loving, until she had to rip her mouth away to take a breath.

“Marry me,” he said into her ear, nipping her lobe. “Please.”

Naomi melted at the words. “Oh, Bobby.”

“I never meant to break my promise to you, angel.”

“I know, I know.”

His body trembled against hers, and she held him, tried to soothe him.

“It’s all right. We’ll be all right.”

“I’ll never break another promise to you. As long as I live, Naomi. I’ll take care of you. I swear it. In my wretched thirty-two years, you’re all I’ve ever wanted.”

She smiled against his shoulder and inhaled, savoring the spicy, salty male scent of him. He held her tight, as though he thought she might flee. Never. She’d spend the rest of her life convincing him of his worth. Of her love.

She pulled back slightly and gazed into his burning amber eyes. “So, when do you want to marry me?”

He grinned, his dimple flashing. “Is now too soon?”

“Not at all,” she said. “Pa’s waiting.”

Bobby cupped her cheek, smoothing his calloused thumb over the tip of her nose and then over her lips that still stung from his passionate kisses. “I love you with all my heart, Naomi. Everything I have—everything I am—is yours.”

“All I want is you, Bobby Morgan,” she said, flicking her tongue on the pad of his thumb. “Whither thou goest, I will go.”

He scooped her into his arms and carried her through the door.