Page 21 of Taken By the Bounty Hunter

I didn’t intend to kiss Georgie.

Well, that’s not true. Just not immediately.

The plan was to take her home and help her heal.

She has a long way to go, after all she’s been through. And I don’t have the whole story of what happened to her the last 31 days.

Not that I haven’t thought about kissing her. Not that I hadn’t spent many, many lonely nights fantasizing about losing myself in her. Taking her to my bed and claiming her. Burying everything I have in her. Giving her everything she needs.

But now, this woman I’ve been desperately searching for hugs me and clings to me. And now my desperation has shifted to a deeper level.

It tugged at my heart when Georgie started talking about pulling her weight. As if any of that matters to me. As if I don’t wantanything other than to protect her and never let her see the inside of that terrible place again.

I knew when I brought her here that being intimate should be the last thing on my mind. I knew I would have to set boundaries and stick to them.

But her pretty, pouty lips kept talking about stupid things like cooking and cleaning.

She hypnotized me with the delicate sprinkle of freckles over her nose. The softness of her hips. The pretty cords of her throat that bob with emotion.

I am too swept up in everything about Georgie.

Her lips are soft and tentative at first. She responds with trembling breath and the stillness of someone who’s never been kissed.

I have to proceed gently with her.

I brush my lips over hers, letting her get used to this closeness. My hands move from her hips to her lower back, caressing the tight muscle there as I deepen the kiss slightly. I take her bottom lip between my lips. Tasting. Memorizing.

I know Georgie is aware of my erection pressing against her, just as I’m painfully aware of warm little tits pressed against my chest.

She pulls back for a moment.

“Jefferson?”

“What is it, Georgie?”

“I’ve never kissed anyone back before.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does.”

Georgie needs to talk, so she’s gonna talk. “Go on.”

She inhales slowly. “One time, one of the boys kissed me. We were in middle school. We liked each other but dating wasn’t allowed. We were lining up for chapel, and when the teacher wasn’t looking, he pulled me into an empty classroom. It all happened so fast I couldn’t stop it. I didn’t want to stop it. I wanted him to kiss me.”

I nod for her to continue.

“We were caught when others in our class tattled on us to the teacher. Word got around, and I was punished with extra chores. The boy was threatened with shunning.”

Wait a minute. “Shunning?”

She nods. “They had a trial and everything. But they eventually let him stay. We were 14 years old. If he was 16, they would have shunned him for sure.”

“I don’t understand what that means.”

She shrugs. “They just…leave.”

“And go where?”

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