Elisabeth's POV
Number thirteen. Number twenty-seven. Number nine.
Those were the three items Jefferson had methodically eliminated from our list before dawn light began filtering through the bedroom curtains. My mind still reeled from the transformation - from despising a man who once refused my touch to lying here with someone who set every nerve ending ablaze.
That was Jefferson Harding's effect on me now.
The most shocking discovery? Jefferson Harding, that fierce, brooding fortress of a man, was secretly a complete cuddler.
I couldn't suppress the smile creeping across my lips as I nestled deeper against his warmth. Even unconscious, his body seemed attuned to mine, drawing me closer with possessive arms that circled my waist. My muscles protested the movement with a deep ache that reminded me exactly how thoroughly he had claimed me the night before. I grimaced slightly. Extended soreness awaited me, but every second had been worth the exquisite torture.
