The Trouble With Tomboys(68)

B.J. looked down at another photo but didn’t see it this time. “I remember you used to be pretty happy yourself.”

“Yeah,” he said softly. Then he cleared his

throat and pushed to his feet.

Quietly closing the album, she pushed to her feet as well. And they stood there in silence, both making sure they had their gaze set firmly on different parts of the room.

Unable to take it any longer, B.J. blurted out the first thing that came to her head. “You know, I heard only eighty percent of Americans actually have sex on their wedding night.”

Grady lifted his face. She could see his mind spinning, and it suddenly dawned on her how

suggestive her comment sounded.

“What are you trying to say?” he asked, his voice 190



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cautious.

“I...I’m not trying to say anything,” she

answered, defensive. “I mean, I said what I wanted to say. I just thought it was weird so many people didn’t…” Damn, she was only burying herself

deeper.

“I think it’s weird too,” he returned quietly.

She nearly sighed in relief. Licking her lips, she darted a glance toward the doorway. “So...do you want to—”

“Hell, yes,” he cut in, already reaching for her.

When his mouth slanted across hers and his

arms crushed her to his chest, she finally did let her sigh loose. Thank God, thank God, she thought.

Something finally felt right. She’d been tense and unsure of everything ever since saying I do. But every single insecurity inside her melted away in Grady’s arms.

If only they could have sex all the time, then life would be perfect.

He had her tee and bra off by the time they

made it to his—er, their—room. She’d stripped him of his tie and shirt, and they were each working on the other’s pants. As he backed her toward his bed, he skimmed her jeans down over her hips and

paused when he realized she hadn’t been wearing underwear. He glanced up and treated her to a questioning look.

She smiled, hoping he’d appreciate his wedding gift. On a wink, she explained, “And you say only single people go commando.”

He chuckled. Then he pressed his mouth to hers, and his kiss tasted like laughter, sunlight, and heaven. B.J. groaned and clutched his hair. After backing her onto the bed, he set a hand on her knee, moved her thighs apart, and knelt between her open legs. As he touched her with his tongue, she gasped and arched. For a novice at this particular art, the 191







man was already a pro.

Wanting to reciprocate, she said, “Wait a

second.”

He stopped and looked up in concern, like he was worried she was going to stop him. But she merely wiggled her hips around until her feet were by the headboard and her face was in his crotch.

“I’ll do you while you do me,” she explained, spreading his fly apart and taking him into her hand.

At the first touch of her mouth on him, he went rigid and sucked in a breath. He whipped a hand out as if to pull her away from him by her hair. But instead, he tugged off her ponytail holder and buried his fingers in her thick locks.

“Oh, holy God,” he groaned and tightened his grip as she stroked him with her tongue from base to tip. “Jesus.”

B.J. glanced up at him then. He’d thrown his head back and the muscles in his neck worked as he sucked in a silent gasp of pleasure. “Let me guess,”

she said. “You’ve never had a blowjob before.”

He let out a strangled laugh. “If Amy wouldn’t let me go down on her, do you honestly think she’d go anywhere near my…” He groaned and closed his eyes when she reached out to stroke him with her index finger.

“Well, then maybe you should worry about me

later,” she suggested. “Lie back and fully enjoy your first BJ from B.J.”

He shook his head. “No,” he rasped. “I want your taste in my mouth.”

Not one to argue about getting herself some

pleasure, B.J. shrugged and watched him lean toward her. What followed was the best sixty-niner she’d ever experienced. ****

“B.J.?”

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Grady’s voice jerked her back from the brink of drifting off. She opened her eyes and drowsily mumbled, “Hmm?”

But, wow. She felt like a limp noodle. Lying there in his arms, she wanted to fall asleep so she could wake in that same position, rested and rejuvenated for another round.

“What’s the ‘J’ stand for?”

She cracked open one eye. “J?”

“In B.J.”

Unable to help herself, she chuckled. God, he never forgot anything, did he?

“Jewell,” she relented, hoping that would be that. It wasn’t.