The Trouble With Tomboys(14)

He didn’t answer.

“Well, I’m not going to let you. I’m not going to let you just walk away from this.” She tugged him around. “You’re still alive, Grady. You have to accept that.”

“Don’t,” he whispered raggedly, gritting his 38



The Trouble with Tomboys



teeth like he was in pain. His command was part plea, part order.

Taking her wrist, he weakly pulled her hand off his arm. But he didn’t let go of her. Instead, he tightened his grip and looked down at her body. His ragged breathing intensified, and his eyes dilated as they focused on her pouting nipples pushing against wet cloth.

B.J. swallowed. She wanted his mouth on those hard, throbbing peaks. She wanted his tongue stroking her. An electric current spiraled up the insides of her thighs, growing damp and heavy between her legs.

Stepping toward him, she gently pulled her

wrist from his captivity and slid her hand around the back of his neck. He was taller than her and certainly stronger. If he wanted to escape, he could.

But he merely watched her warily as she drew his head down.

He closed his eyes and lowered his face to

receive her. She eased her lips back to his.

This kiss was soft. So soft, she couldn’t take it.

Thinking her point proven, she moved back, giving him mercy, or maybe giving herself mercy. But his lips followed hers. Her skin buzzed with awareness, and an almost painful tightening began in the bottom of her stomach. He cupped her face and drew her back, opening his mouth and demanding more.

Their tastes melded; she groaned and sank

against him, deepening the contact. Feeling primal as she pushed her tongue into his mouth, B.J.

wrapped her arms around his neck and arched

against him. Grady pulled her closer and devoured her, leaving her no air to breathe, only hormones jazzed and ready for action.

He stroked his hands down to her waist, then grasped the hem of her shirt and jerked it up, cupping her breasts through her bra and finding the 39







pouting tips that had first taunted him. She groaned and shivered.

“God damn you,” he managed to hiss against her mouth only to use his tongue to invade and his hips to grind hard against hers. “Damn you to hell for this.”

He freed one nipple and rolled it between his thumb and index finger, making her cry out.

She swallowed and choked on the sound,

suddenly realizing what was happening.

Whoa. Wait. Public hotel hallway.

“My room,” she wheezed before he sealed his

mouth back to hers and continued to torment her.

She backed toward her door, which was only a few steps behind her. He followed, crowding her space and stroking her nonstop. Though she had no idea how she managed to unlock her room without coming up for air, the door slipped open, and she and Grady tumbled inside, not once breaking what was fast becoming the greatest kiss of all time.

A slight glow emanated from the bathroom

where she’d forgotten to turn off the light before leaving to go down to supper. But otherwise, they kissed in the dark. She barely had the door shut before he pushed her against it and worked open the top button of her damp jeans. He only broke the kiss to nip at her jaw with his teeth. Not bothering to flip on a light, B.J. kicked off her boots and reached for his belt buckle.

She barely unzipped his trousers in the time it took him to shed her jeans and underwear in one mighty tug. He didn’t say anything, but he did let out a groan when he covered her mound with a hot palm and kneaded her once before pushing a finger inside to find her soaked and dripping.

B.J. gasped, clutching his shoulder for support.

Her body quivered with every bone-shivering caress he gave. He barely nudged another finger in, 40



The Trouble with Tomboys



brushing the inside of her thigh with the back of his rough knuckles, and she almost came.

She dove her hands into the waistband of his underwear and cupped his ass before slipping them and his jeans down. As soon as they dropped to free his penis, he lifted her, spreading her knees to either side of his ribs, and buried himself deep, plunging all the way to her core.

Her head fell back, and she hit her skull against the hard door.

“Mother of God,” she cried, unable to decipher if she was cursing the pleasure of him stretching her sensitive passage, the pain in her head, or both.

They were doing this. They were really doing this. Of all the times she’d dreamed of being with Grady, she’d never imagined this…this all-consuming sensation: the dampness of his skin clinging to hers, the fall of his breath on her neck, the thickness of his hair in her hands. It was more than she could process.

He didn’t slow his pace—not that she wanted

him to. He surged back, harder and faster, pushing them both to the brink.