The Trouble with Tomboys (Tommy Creek #1)(54)

“Feel nice?” he asked as he nipped her earlobe.

B.J. couldn’t answer. She could only feel, so she 163



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moaned out an affirmative.

“Then just imagine it,” he said, dotting kisses along her jaw and down her throat. All the while, his fingers played between her thighs, and his bare legs moved restlessly against hers. “If we were married, we could do this all the time...anytime.”

She shook her head from side to side. “Don’t start that again, Grady. Please. We’re not going to...”

She gasped before finishing the words because he pushed his index finger inside her. Then he removed it fully, and she groaned in agony from the loss of his filling presence. Moving on to other areas, he rubbed his slick finger across the nub just above her opening. B.J. hissed out a breath and fisted her hands around a wad of sheets.

Grady sat up suddenly so he could watch his

own handiwork. He stared intently for a second before glancing up.

“You touched yourself right here earlier,” he said. “When I was inside you.”

B.J. damn near went cross-eyed as he massaged that very area. “Did I?” she managed to rasp.

He nodded and licked his lips as he watched his fingers work. “I’d never seen a woman do that before.” Sending her a boyishly fascinated grin, he added, “I liked it.”

“Is that a hint?” she asked and rolled her eyes.

Reaching down, she batted his hand away and took up the task for herself. Her hips arched all the way off the bed when she went straight to the spot wanting the most attention.

“Holy God,” Grady choked out and grew even

more avidly alert. Starting to really get into his voyeuristic venture, he positioned his legs so his feet were stretched out up by her face and propped his elbow on the mattress next to her hip as he leaned in close to see every detail clearly.

Growing suddenly reticent, B.J. felt her face 164



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heat. “Are you just going to watch?”

He nodded, his eyes glued to the progress of her fingers. “Don’t stop,” he commanded, his voice strained.

B.J. grinned as he studied her the entire time.

He looked so entranced, she got off on the hot gleam in his eyes almost as much as she did from the pressure of her own fingers. When he finally looked up and met her gaze, she climaxed.

As her heart rate started to settle, he looked ready to pounce, but he merely stared at the notch between her opened thighs.

“What are you waiting for, Slim?’ she asked, amused. “A handwritten invitation? I don’t get any readier than this.”

He licked his lips, looking hungry like he

wanted to eat her whole. His eyes darted toward hers and then back down. “Can I…” He paused as if debating whether or not to ask. Then he cleared his throat and glanced up. “Can I taste you?”

B.J. honestly hadn’t thought the night could get any more erotic. She’d come hard and long and felt sure she was done till the next full moon. Someone stick a fork in her. But at his seemingly shy question, a pulse of pure desire beat its way up her thighs and fried the nerve endings in every erogenous zone on her body.

“Well, hell,” she said, opening for him. “If I’d a known you wanted to go down on me, I would’ve let you finish me off.”

He looked uncertain for a moment, then said, “I probably couldn’t have given you an orgasm anyway.

I’ve never...you know, done this before.”

B.J.’s mouth dropped and then she shook her

head. “Well, you cheap bastard,” she said and laughed outright. “I bet all the girls you’ve been with don’t miss you at all.”

He frowned slightly. “Amy would never let me,”

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he said defensively. “She thought the whole idea was…” He shrugged. “Dirty...unsanitary. She didn’t think she’d be able to kiss me again if I went anywhere near there.”

His words fell off as he glanced at that tempting spot on B.J.

“So, what about the other women?” she couldn’t help but ask.

He sent her a strange frown. “Other women?”

The hairs on the back of B.J.’s neck spiked with apprehension. Needing to appease her own unease, she pressed, “You know, the other women you’ve been with.”

He shook his head. “I started dating Amy when I was fourteen,” he reminded her. “We never once broke up, and...well, you already know you’re the only one since she died.”

“Oh...my God,” B.J. murmured, feeling utterly dumbfounded. She sat up as if to escape the

realization. This was not what she wanted to hear.

“You’ve only been with two different women your entire life?”

He shifted uncomfortably. “What’s wrong with that?”

“It’s just...Well, hell, I don’t want to have a bigger track record than the guy I’m sleeping with.”

He arched his eyebrows. “What exactly is your track record?”

B.J. refused to answer. She glanced away. The answer was nothing to write home about, but it certainly doubled his measly two.