The Trouble with Tomboys (Tommy Creek #1)(72)

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I like how you don’t clutter the bathroom with a load of useless perfumes bottles because, to me, nothing smells as good as a plain, clean woman. It’s like...you have all the perks and none of the downfalls. In fact, you just might be the perfect woman. So, don’t go telling me what I don’t prefer. I know what I like.

And I like everything about you just as it is. If you even think about trying to change, we’re going to have problems.”

B.J. could only stare at him in awe as he leaned up to press another light, teasing kiss to her mouth.

“You really don’t mind if I’m a tomboy?”

“No,” he murmured against her mouth. “I really don’t.”

He kissed her for a few seconds longer, before B.J. pulled away. “Well, in that case,” she muttered, wiggling out from under him to get free, “I’m going to change.”

“Change?” Grady asked, frowning as he sat up to give her space.

When she ripped aside the covers to expose the silk and lace two-piece she was wearing, his mouth fell open.

“Holy God,” he breathed, his eyes soaking in the skimpy bra and thong set.

“I’ll be right back,” B.J. said, popping off the bed to head toward the bathroom.

“Whoa!” he called, leaping after her and hooking an arm around her waist to drag her back. “Let’s not be too hasty now.”

He tugged until the smooth globes of her butt brushed his chest. Kissing the base of her back right above her panty line, he cupped her bare backside in his hands and started to lick his way up her spine.

B.J. gasped and sat down on the edge of the bed in order to let him continue. Bowing her head as he lifted her hair and ran his tongue along the back of her neck, she said, “But I thought you said you liked 221



Linda Kage



me being a tomboy.”

“Mmm.” He slipped his hands around to cup her breasts with both palms. “What does this have to do with being a tomboy?”

B.J.’s back arched when he slipped his fingers inside the bra to get to her nipples, causing her long, free-flowing hair to tumble over his shoulder like pure silk. “So, this isn’t at all frou-frou or girly, huh?”

“Hell no,” he growled, fumbling a little in his haste to shed the bra. “Amy, the ultimate supporter of all things frou-frou and girly, wouldn’t have been caught dead in a thong. This is what I call drop-dead gorgeous.”

B.J. purred when his caress found the center of her heat. Sliding her panties down her thighs, he nibbled his way up her throat.

“Do you want to know what I think of Ralphie Smardo?” he asked just before catching her earlobe with his teeth.

Sighing out her pleasure as she tilted her head to the side to give him better access, B.J. asked, “No, I’m not sure I do.”

He chuckled and told her anyway. “I think he was scared because you’re too much of a woman, and he knew he’d never be able to handle you.”

B.J. lifted an eyebrow. “Oh, but you think you can handle me, huh?” Her voice held a certain challenge even though her eyes sparked with pleasure at his true meaning.

He grinned and tossed her underwear over his shoulder. “No, not really. But that’s not going to stop me from trying.”

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Chapter Twenty


The next morning, Grady woke hard and

hungry. And even though his stomach wouldn’t stop rumbling, he decided to ignore his appetite in favor of the other pressing need. An hour later, showered and dressed, he whistled as he strode to his truck.

Before Houston, he’d always been eager to go to work, to escape his lonely, memory-filled house. But this morning, he felt reluctant to leave. B.J. was inside. It didn’t matter if she’d be heading out soon herself to go to the hangar. She was in there now.

And since she was, that was where he wanted to be.

He cringed, thinking he sounded pathetic for wanting to be with her nonstop. But then he

realized, hey, he was a newlywed. Of course he wanted to spend every waking hour with his wife.

Realizing, yes, he was indeed a newlywed, it suddenly struck him they’d totally bypassed a honeymoon. He should ask her tonight if she wanted to go away for a few days...or weeks. He grinned.

The woman would probably want to see a NASCAR

race, which was perfectly fine by him. He liked her tastes and was happy about the fact he’d never have to attend another craft fair in his life.

Craving coffee, he decided to stop by the diner on his way to Rawlings Oil. Someone at the office usually made a pot, but whoever did couldn’t brew to save their life...and since the smell made B.J. sick to her stomach, he couldn’t make his own at home. As he stepped into the café, however, the smell of frying bacon, scrambled eggs and hot apple pie made his stomach growl.

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He ordered a full meal with his coffee even

though he’d already eaten once this morning.

Grinning, he realized it was entirely B.J.’s fault. He wouldn’t have worked up such an appetite if she’d kept her hands off him in the shower and hadn’t demanded she wash his back because he’d missed a spot. After that, he’d felt obligated to offer the same courtesy. And pretty soon, they were cleaning each other against the shower wall. It didn’t seem to matter that he’d been inside her only minutes earlier. He was always ready for more with B.J.