The Trouble with Tomboys (Tommy Creek #1)(15)

The Trouble with Tomboys



and he investigated the curve of her hip before trailing his short nails up her spine.

The pace slowed to a drowsy tempo, neither

rushing as they learned the contours and curves of their partner. When Grady finally abandoned her mouth, he only moved his lips to other body parts.

His tongue and teeth lavished her. She sighed and threaded her fingers through his damp hair.

He kissed and touched like he was making love.

There was no humping or screwing or any kind of degrading term like that with this man. Once he was in control of himself, he was all about gentle and soft. It was so damn precious she mimicked his kindness, touching him tenderly, rubbing her fingers up his arms and over his elbows, investigating places she’d never gone on a man, simple places like his wrists and earlobes, but places that suddenly seemed incredibly sensual.

This was how a married couple made love, she thought. But then, he was a married man, wasn’t he? He wouldn’t know any other way. Jesus, he was probably thinking of his wife as he nuzzled her neck with his nose, trying to forget he was with— “B.J.,” he groaned, barely lifting his voice, a low rumble that vibrated through her and made her shiver.

So, okay, maybe he wasn’t thinking about Amy, which only made this better...and so much worse.

“Can I…” he started to ask and then hesitated.

“Yes,” she answered with no pause whatsoever.

Yes, he could do anything he wanted.

He lifted her leg, wrapping her thigh around his hip, and sunk himself inside her with an achingly slow plunge that had her gasping and bowing against him.

Slipping her hands ever so softly over his back and gracefully lifting her hips to meet this thrust, B.J. closed her eyes and pretended this was exactly 45



Linda Kage



what it felt like: making love.

His pace filled her with agonizing frustration. It didn’t take long for her to crave the speed again. She yearned to drown in the sensations, dive into the storm. But he took his ever-loving time like he relished discovering each inch of her with his mouth and hands, like each instance he moved within her, he needed to savor the feeling with concentrated deliberation.

B.J. squeezed him tight with her thighs, digging her heels into his ass and holding him deeper, urging him on and trying to coax him into cooperating and going faster.

“Hurry,” she rasped.

He looked down at her with sweat beading his brow and his lips tight with focus. “I want slow,” was his steady command.

She shook her head...or more like thrashed it from side to side. “I can’t—” Oh, God, she was going to die—or go insane—if he didn’t hurry. “Grady, I can’t.”

“You will,” he said, and, damn it, she did.

She came slowly, feeling it methodically work its way up her toes and the insides of her thighs, until it hit her g-spot. Then she came and came and came...and came. Above her, Grady gasped and tensed. Picking up his pace and pounding into her, he released himself, joining her orgasm. He gritted his teeth, telling her just how hard he strained as he gave that last plunge. Then he groaned deep and long, holding his large, quivering body taut as he closed his eyes.

The silence that followed was deafening.

B.J. didn’t think she was ever going to stop shuddering from the aftershocks, not even when he collapsed heavily on top of her, his limp deadweight making her wonder if he’d physically passed out.

Just when she decided she liked the warm,

46



The Trouble with Tomboys



blanketing load, he picked himself up and rolled off her. She instantly chilled, missing his heat. Closing her eyes, she wished him back, and then jumped when he actually curled his arm around her waist and tugged her against him.

They held each other close, like a pair a

frightened children huddling in the dark and worrying about the scary monster coming for them.

And, damn, she did feel terrified out of her mind.

Reality could be one mean bogeyman.

Not sure what had just happened between the

lines of all that moaning and orgasming, she clutched him for dear life, thinking he was the only thing solid and real in this crazy, mixed-up situation.

He kissed her hair and stroked her arm, settling her nerves. She wasn’t sure if he knew she needed his tender touch after that explosion of raw feelings and need, but he provided exactly the kind of tranquil comfort that eased her. Relaxing and closing her eyes, she inhaled the smell of his sweat that oozed what could only be called a Grady pheromone.

Lounging against him so peacefully, she

imagined a husband and wife this way, all happy and satisfied after making a baby together.

She paused.

Baby?

Her eyes jerked open; she stared up at the

ceiling, feeling frozen.

“Did you wear a condom?”

What kind of stupid question was that? Of

course he hadn’t...in either round. She’d been there the entire time. She knew perfectly well there’d been no pausing for prophylactic safely.

Grady went tense. He sat up and looked down at her with wide eyes.

“Shit,” she said and sat up as well. “I...I should 47



Linda Kage



clean this off...or something.”