The Trouble with Tomboys (Tommy Creek #1)(52)

“Ah. So, it was sympathy sex with him too,

huh?”

She glared. “I do not do sympathy sex! I mean, come on. Have you ever seen Cooper Gerhardt

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shirtless? Pity was the last thing on my mind, I assure you.”

“Uh huh,” he said, not believing her. “And I’m sure Junkyard Smardo is simply irresistible with his shirt off, isn’t he?”

B.J. couldn’t help it. She winced. Ick. Ralphie had just been plain scary without his clothes on. She had to be thankful it’d been fairly dark, or his pasty white skin and beer belly would’ve chased her away long before they’d started.

Clamping her mouth shut, she refused to

incriminate herself any further.

“And what about me?” he asked in a low voice, stepping ominously closer. “What was it about me you were so unable to resist? The way I brooded into my beer throughout supper? Or maybe it was how I ignored you and tried to avoid all conversation.”

B.J.’s lips parted in surprise.

He was hurt. She blinked, unable to believe it.

He honestly thought she’d only slept with him to ease his miserable life. And, clearly, that didn’t sit well with him. He hadn’t wanted any kind of pity or sympathy. He’d wanted honest-to-goodness lust.

Not sure how to tell him her pity had gone out the window the second her mouth had touched his, she sighed.

“You seen a mirror recently, Slim?” she asked.

“Because you’re not exactly hurtin’ in the looks department either.”

Humming in appreciation, she blatantly

skimmed her eyes up his trim jeans and tucked-in shirt to his tanned throat and striking face. Oh, yeah, he wasn’t lacking at all.

“Smell good too,” she added, moving even closer until her nose was only inches from his neck, where she took a big whiff, almost groaning when she inhaled his irresistible male scent.

The heat coming off his body was intoxicating.

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B.J. shivered in delight. “I don’t mind the way your hands felt on me either,” she whispered into his ear.

She lifted her fingers to his hair and was about to tell him she liked the texture when he caught her wrist. She gasped in surprise and met his steely stare.

“I remember Amy talking about how you used to take in stray dogs and patch them up.” His nostrils flared as he spoke, telling her their proximity affected him even though he held himself back. “I’m not some lame bird with a broken wing, B.J.”

No, he was a man, a flesh and blood, virile man who wanted something from her besides pity. Well, B.J. decided she could oblige...with pleasure.

“Thank God,” she purred, rubbing against him.

“Because right now I want some hard, fast sex, no strings attached, no emotions involved...just body to body, mouth to mouth...” She murmured the last few words against his lips and didn’t finish the sentiment before his tongue was scraping over her teeth.

His hands skimmed her body once before he

grasped the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head. She stripped off his pants. More articles of clothing followed as they stumbled toward a hallway.

“Where’s your room?” Grady asked, wrapping

his arms around her waist and hauling her off her feet. Dazed by the explosion of need roaring through her and the desperation with which she wanted it quenched, she pointed out a door. He pushed it open with his foot and carried her all the way to the bed.

Sitting her on the mattress, he followed until they were facing each other. As she peeled off his shirt, he focused his attention on her breasts.

“Are they still tender?”

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bra. When she still winced, he whispered his regret and bent his head to spread a few apologetic kisses over the swollen flesh. B.J. forgave him immediately, especially when he sucked a throbbing bud into his mouth.

Warm, caressing fingers skimmed down her skin and hovered over her stomach a moment before pressing gently as if greeting the baby inside.

“Passed out any today?” he asked, glancing up at her with concern.

B.J. shook her head and lifted her hand to his hair. “Vomited?” he wondered.

Her hand dropped as she sent him an irritated scowl. “No, doctor,” she said impatiently. “I have not passed out or hurled once today. Do you want to take my temperature next?”

He grinned. “Only if you think you can handle my thermometer?”

Mouth dropping, B.J. could only gape at him for a moment. Then she sputtered, “Oh, my God. Did I hear wrong, or did the golden boy of Tommy Creek, Texas just make a dirty, suggestive comment?”

“Golden boy?” he echoed in surprise. Shaking his head, bemused, he leaned over her, causing her to lie back on the bed. “Let me convince you just how wrong you are.”

Giving her a hard, demanding kiss, he set his hands on her knees and pushed them apart. B.J. was ready. She wanted to feel his thick probing head at her entrance more than she wanted her next breath.

And when she did, she breathed out a sigh of relief.

Finally. He pushed his way deeper into her.

But suddenly, he stopped and pulled out. B.J.