Pausing at her old snakebite a few inches under her arm, he bent and kissed the healed wound. It felt very intimate to reveal such a scar to Grady. He didn’t ask about it, only lavished it with loving attention and then moved to the next scar he found on her knee.
Then, damn it, the man turned cuddly. He
shuddered out a breath and lay on top of her, making sure every inch of his skin pressed against hers from their ankles to their necks. Sighing, he relaxed against her. His arms came around her as he rested his face by her shoulder, lying there quietly like he was soaking in the sensation.
He was...he was hugging her, she realized, and burying his face in her hair like he was hiding from the fact he needed such contact...such comfort. But this was definitely an embrace. She swallowed; tears pricked her eyes at the sweetness of the moment.
“Touch me back,” he whispered. Manually
taking her hand, he pressed her palm against the side of his ribcage. “Please.”
She did, uncertain at first while she ran her fingers up the back of his shoulders. Shuddering out his pleasure, he closed his eyes and let his head roll back, allowing her to explore him as he had her. She traced the sculpted plane of his stomach and abs, 44
The Trouble with Tomboys
and he investigated the curve of her hip before trailing his short nails up her spine.
The pace slowed to a drowsy tempo, neither
rushing as they learned the contours and curves of their partner. When Grady finally abandoned her mouth, he only moved his lips to other body parts.
His tongue and teeth lavished her. She sighed and threaded her fingers through his damp hair.
He kissed and touched like he was making love.
There was no humping or screwing or any kind of degrading term like that with this man. Once he was in control of himself, he was all about gentle and soft. It was so damn precious she mimicked his kindness, touching him tenderly, rubbing her fingers up his arms and over his elbows, investigating places she’d never gone on a man, simple places like his wrists and earlobes, but places that suddenly seemed incredibly sensual.
This was how a married couple made love, she thought. But then, he was a married man, wasn’t he? He wouldn’t know any other way. Jesus, he was probably thinking of his wife as he nuzzled her neck with his nose, trying to forget he was with—
“B.J.,” he groaned, barely lifting his voice, a low rumble that vibrated through her and made her shiver.
So, okay, maybe he wasn’t thinking about Amy, which only made this better...and so much worse.
“Can I…” he started to ask and then hesitated.
“Yes,” she answered with no pause whatsoever.
Yes, he could do anything he wanted.
He lifted her leg, wrapping her thigh around his hip, and sunk himself inside her with an achingly slow plunge that had her gasping and bowing
against him.
Slipping her hands ever so softly over his back and gracefully lifting her hips to meet this thrust, B.J. closed her eyes and pretended this was exactly 45
what it felt like: making love.
His pace filled her with agonizing frustration. It didn’t take long for her to crave the speed again. She yearned to drown in the sensations, dive into the storm. But he took his ever-loving time like he relished discovering each inch of her with his mouth and hands, like each instance he moved within her, he needed to savor the feeling with concentrated deliberation.
B.J. squeezed him tight with her thighs, digging her heels into his ass and holding him deeper, urging him on and trying to coax him into
cooperating and going faster.
“Hurry,” she rasped.
He looked down at her with sweat beading his brow and his lips tight with focus. “I want slow,” was his steady command.
She shook her head...or more like thrashed it from side to side. “I can’t—” Oh, God, she was going to die—or go insane—if he didn’t hurry. “Grady, I can’t.”
“You will,” he said, and, damn it, she did.
She came slowly, feeling it methodically work its way up her toes and the insides of her thighs, until it hit her g-spot. Then she came and came and
came...and came. Above her, Grady gasped and tensed. Picking up his pace and pounding into her, he released himself, joining her orgasm. He gritted his teeth, telling her just how hard he strained as he gave that last plunge. Then he groaned deep and long, holding his large, quivering body taut as he closed his eyes.
The silence that followed was deafening.
B.J. didn’t think she was ever going to stop shuddering from the aftershocks, not even when he collapsed heavily on top of her, his limp deadweight making her wonder if he’d physically passed out.
Just when she decided she liked the warm,
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