The Trouble With Tomboys(15)

Her body went taut and hot while he rode her with deep, confident thrusts, only to pull nearly all the way out before surging back in. She clung to him, clawing his back, and fought to keep from coming too soon. It felt like she was being pulled apart by a string. When the wire snapped, the explosion inside her was like lightning, zapping through all four limbs and coming out the ends of her fingers and toes.

“God,” Grady growled and bucked one last time, grabbing her hard as he joined the fireworks. “God.”

Afterward, he stayed motionless for a couple of seconds before easing out and sliding limply to the floor. Still in shock from experiencing such an earth-shattering climax, B.J. collapsed next to him, too 41







limp to move.

As her breathing slowly settled, she stared wide-eyed into the dark room and listened to Grady suck in air beside her.

Well. She’d done it now.

Wondering what was going to result from her

wild, unplanned seduction, she closed her eyes and set a hand over her heart. If he hated her, she wouldn’t blame him. She’d forced him, pushed him beyond his control. Grady Rawlings was one

controlled individual. He wouldn’t take her

manipulation lightly. Intentional or not.

In memory of his dead wife, he’d kept his body as pure and chaste as a church for the past two and a half years. But it’d only taken a matter of minutes for destructive B.J. to come along and desecrate his saintly temple. Satan was no doubt grinning up at her, giving her a conspiring wink and the thumbs-up as she lay next to Grady.

This was too unreal.

Abruptly realizing her breathing had returned to normal while he still gasped for air, her heart plummeted.

Oh, God. What had she done to him?

“Grady?” she whispered, reaching out. He

jumped when her hand found his arm. Body

shaking, he was cold and clammy to the touch.

“No,” she uttered and crawled closer, “Sweetie, don’t. Please, don’t.” She put her hands on either side of his face, moving her thumbs to the corners of his eyes to make sure he wasn’t crying. When she found the skin dry, she felt like bawling herself because he wouldn’t. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Instinctively, she put her arms around him and laid her cheek against his chest.

Her voice broke. “I’m so sorry.”

She felt terrible. He was probably reeling in guilt because he’d just cheated on his dead wife, and 42



The Trouble with Tomboys



it was all her fault.

She sniffed like she was going to howl any

second. Then she awkwardly patted his hair and rubbed his back, having no idea how to help him, or comfort him, or stop this pain she’d caused.

“I’m sorry,” she said again, feeling pathetic and useless. For someone who usually choked on

apologies, this one gushed off her tongue like water from Niagara Falls. “Please. I’m so sorry.”

Lifting her face, she leaned in to kiss his cheek but missed and caught the corner his mouth instead.

In response, he turned...and not away from her.

Seeking her, his warm breath fell on her lips a split second before he kissed her hungrily, sucking from her nectar.

Unprepared for the hot torrent of his mouth, B.J. gasped; her body responded immediately. She forgot her worry and regret, and gurgled out an unexpected cry when his hands came up to feast on her breasts. Obviously irritated with her damp, tangled shirt in his way, he stripped it off and went about shedding her bra. All the while, he continued to kiss her, the contact morphing from greedy to curious and then to explorative.

Once she was entirely naked, he cupped her

bare breasts she’d unknowingly been pressing against him. A sob rose in his throat. He nudged her down onto to the floor right there by the door, kicking his pants and underwear off his ankles and keeping his mouth against hers the entire time.

Their lips became permanently fused as he finished unbuttoning his own shirt and shrugged it off.

He broke from her mouth to dip his face and kiss his way down the center of her body, starting in the hollow at the base of her throat and working his way south, not even pausing between her breasts or navel. But he did falter when his lips lowered to about four inches below her belly button. She tensed 43







in expectation, waiting for him to move lower. But that was as far as he went, making her body burn for more.

Oh, God. Who would’ve known Grady Rawlings

would be such a tease?

His fingers followed the torture next, as he skimmed them over her clavicle and around her breasts, caressing close to her most sensitive points, but never providing direct contact. It had to be the most sensual moment of her life, and yet he seemed perfectly content to turn a little PG, driving her insane by exploring safe zones.