Page 29 of Taken By the Bounty Hunter

“Not real sure. Like I said, I don’t ask him a lot of questions. My guess is either an international spy or loan shark.”

“Hmm.”

“Anyway, that couch is where we go when we need to think and figure out what to do when we’re stuck on a problem. It has magical powers.”

“Sure.”

“You’re too tired to argue with that, right?”

“Yep.”

Chapter Eight

Jefferson

I don’t know what time it is when Georgie wakes up in a panic, gasping for breath.

“Where am I?”

“Georgie. You’re in my room.”

I do my best to calm her down by rubbing her back as she sits up on the mattress, her hands reaching out to the wall to steady herself.

“My room?”

“No, baby. My room. The Dump, remember?”

She splutters and starts to sound more lucid. “Jefferson?”

“I’m here.”

Her breathing slows, and she turns to me.

“You’re here. And this is your room.”

“And this is our bed. Breathe.”

“Our bed?”

“Ours.”

Let’s be clear, I would never take advantage of a woman in a vulnerable state. All I intended to do was cover her back up and hold her tight to me until she went back to sleep.

But that’s not what Georgie wants at this moment. And I live to do whatever Georgie wants. Whatever Georgie needs.

I try to get her settled with me spooned up behind her again, but she’s not having it. She rolls over to face me, our arms and legs tangled together, and presses her soft lips to the base of my throat.

“Jefferson,” she whispers. “I need you.”

“You have me, G.”

I dip my head down, aching to feel those perfect lips on my mouth. To feel her fitted against me, warm and needy.

And dammit, I can’t help myself. She provokes the beast within with every kiss, and I growl against her skin.

Her soft, sleepy whimpers are too much for me. Her leg slung over my middle is everything.

“Need you,” she repeats, her smooth, perfect thigh sliding over my skin. “Need you to touch me.”

---