Deadly Rescue by Jenna Gunn

Author:Jenna Gunn [Gunn, Jenna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-04-04T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Waving a hand, Scotch easily hails a taxi. It’s late and the streets are much quieter now as we zip across Paris. Tucked in the back of the little cab. Deep in the dark interior with the city’s glittering lights flying by.

For some reason, I can’t pull myself away from his side.

It’s like I’ve been sucked into some kind of Scotch vortex and can’t get free.

Lord. How he makes me fume.

Almost as much as he makes me want.

It’s ridiculous. The way he turns me inside out. Upside down. Wrong side in. Argh!

But the man does it for me. Against all reason.

All that bulging muscle, long-limbed confidence, and the sense of humor that always rocks me, every damned time.

Oh, and did I mention the way he holds me?

Nope?

Never in my life has a man held me so strongly. So totally. He makes me feel protected… and L—

No. I can’t even think the L word.

It’s wrong. So wrong. I can’t L.

I just can’t. It’s not bred into me. Hell, it was frightened out of me.

Twisting my hand in his, I fret over this disturbing realization.

I’m not capable of L.

It never hit so hard before. It was always a vague hypothetical that was the fodder for paperback book covers in the grocery store aisle. For songs on the radio and movies that I was sure were somehow written to sell boxes of tissue.

But this. This is whole next level of terror.

When Scotch brushes his mouth against my ear and murmurs, “My world feels right again with you in my arms,” I freeze.

I almost make a horrible EEEP sound.

When I get my chest working again, I’m in full panic. Sensing my unease, Scotch chuckles. A deep rumble in his broad chest. “That was an interesting response.”

I spin on the leather bench and grab the back of the seat with one hand. “You can’t just say things like that. I’m unprepared. I can’t reciprocate or whatever the hell they call that in English.”

He smiles that sexy, disarming smile of his and brushes a knuckle down my cheek. “Babe.”

“Scotch. Listen. I’m not that girl. I’ve got a broken L past. My parents destroyed any and all hope of me ever having a functional relationship.”

He leans toward me. And before I can pull some hidden lever and eject myself from the cab, he kisses me. Just enough to remind me that my body is fully onboard with any and all madness that has to do with Jameson Scott, M.D..

I gasp for air when he lets me loose.

Okay, when I do my part in ending the kiss too, because maybe I was in on it as well. Fifty percent.

“Look, this is serious.” I grab his arm and squeeze it hard, as if the sheer pressure of my grip will convey the depth of disturbance he’s caused me.

“I don’t know what your past is, but you need to know this about me. I’m not made for L—, you know the word. Anyway, I’m the girl that had a father that left his wife and daughter out of pure anger.

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