rude and obnoxious she sounded. “Okay, okay,” she 31
Linda Kage
said. “I’m backing off. I’ve definitely overstepped my bounds.”
She closed her mouth, shutting up for about two seconds before she said, “It’s just...
damn
. What’re you trying to do to yourself? Win the monk of the year award?”
Through gritted teeth, the words “I thought you said you were backing off,” rumbled from deep within his chest.
But B.J. had drunk one beer too many. “Well, I can’t, okay. Frankly, I’m worried about you. I mean, Jesus, Slim. This is
not
healthy. Men have to have sex. I grew up with four guys. I know. They can’t function without it. You just need to find some anonymous woman and get yourself laid, man.”
Grady made a sound that wasn’t quite an
incredulous laugh and not quite a sob. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this.” He lifted his eyes and defensively retorted, “Guys go without sex all the time.”
“Yeah,” B.J. snorted. “They’re called priests. And priests aren’t the normal, average guy. They got some extra spiritual thing going on that makes them high on God and not women. Now, you may be a good Christian boy and all, but you ain’t
that
holy.
You’re a normal, red-blooded man, and I’m telling you, you need sex or you’ll turn into a...a serial killer or something.”
Grady shook, looking feral, like she might be his first victim.
“Damn it,” she continued. “Don’t you think Amy would want you to move on and someday marry
again? Or do you think she’d want you to dig a hole next to her and bury yourself in it for the rest of your life? Because, personally, I think she’d want you to go on and live a full, happy life.”
Starting to breathe hard, he sent her a pointed glare. “Why don’t you mind your own goddamn
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business and stay out of mine?”
He pushed his chair back and jerked to his feet.
B.J. swallowed as he glared down at her. She wanted to apologize, but apologies had never come easily from her. Frankly, she was too ashamed to even speak. Lowering her face, she listened to him snort out a scathing mutter before he strode off.
“Everything okay?” the waitress asked,
appearing at B.J.’s side.
“Yeah,” B.J. mumbled. “Just dandy.”
She rose to her feet and pulled enough money from her wallet to more than cover the bill. Glancing over, she watched Grady stride from the restaurant and gritted her teeth. Damn it. Everyone had been pussyfooting around him for two and a half years. It was time he woke up and faced reality. Amy was never coming back. He
had
to move on.
Suddenly angry with him for making her feel so shitty, B.J. tossed her wad of cash at the surprised waitress and hurried for the exit.
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Linda Kage
Grady had already made it to the hotel by the time B.J. exited the restaurant.
It had started to rain, and a light drizzle coated her face. Pushing her drooping bangs out of her eyes, she dashed after him, streaking across the street and jaywalking to catch him before he made it to his room. She was soaked by the time she hit the entrance’s overhang and caught sight of him through the window. The miserable shower had drenched him too, but a heedless Grady marched determinedly toward the bank of elevators. She entered the fancy foyer and took off in pursuit.
Never one to bother with propriety, she cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled, “Hey, Rawlings.”
He didn’t break stride, pause, or give any
indication he’d heard her. But she knew he had, mainly because everyone else in the lobby stopped to glance curiously her way.
B.J. ignored the others and raced after Grady.
As he stepped into the elevator, she hollered, “Hold that door!”
Another man entering glanced back. When their gazes met, he spiked out a hand, accommodating her request.
“Thank ya, sir,” she said breathlessly, slipping inside and settling herself next to Grady.
He must’ve known it would look childish to hop off, so he merely stood stiff as a board, hands fisted at his side, and studied the numbers above the door as they lit one after the other.
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The Trouble with Tomboys
B.J. exploded. “What the hell is wrong with
you?”
The other passenger lifted his face, his eyes wide and startled, before he no doubt realized she was ripping on Grady and not him.
“I was actually racing after you to apologize. But you know what? Screw that. I’m not sorry about what I said, because it’s about time someone threw an ice cold glass of reality right in your face.”
When he refused to meet her glower, she set her hands on her hips. “You make everyone in Tommy Creek uncomfortable whenever you’re around
because you freeze folks out like they should all feel ashamed they’re alive and your wife isn’t. Well, you know what? That’s just the way it happened. Time to move on.”
He continued to stare at the numbers, but his jaw worked furiously, tightening and loosening, tightening back into a knot and then loosening again. “Go to hell,” he said in a low, warning baritone.
The third occupant of the elevator backed
against the wall and darted skittish glances from Grady to B.J.
“No.
You
go to hell,” she countered, jabbing her finger his way. “I’m trying to give you helpful advice on—”
“I don’t need your
advice
,” he snarled. “I just want to be left alone.”
B.J. snorted. “Well, I can’t. Amy was important to me too, you know. She’d be devastated if she knew I was letting you pretend you’re not alive. You need to join the real world again, Slim. Quit wallowing—”
He whirled toward her so quickly she jerked an intimidated step back. From between clenched teeth, he hissed, “I’ll live my life however I damn well please.”
When she sucked in a breath, he blinked like 35
Linda Kage
he’d just realized she was cowering. Letting out a low growl, he reeled away and raked a shaky hand through his hair. “Jesus,” he whispered. “Why can’t everyone just leave me alone?”
B.J. could tell his control was splintering. But she fully believed it’d be healthy for him to lose it.
For once in his life, he needed to let out some of the pressure. He needed to alleviate the pain that had been brewing inside him since the moment his wife died. He needed to go a little crazy.
“It’s probably because you bring it on yourself,”
she said.
He glanced menacingly at her. “Excuse me?”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, come off it, Slim. If you really wanted everyone to stop feeling so sorry for you and treating you like some kind of wounded animal, you’d stop
acting
like one.”
Shock filtered across his cheekbones with a red tinge. His mouth fell open. “What? I do not—”
But his gaze landed on the wet shirt clinging to her breasts, and the words died in his throat.
Looking taken aback by the fact she was nipping, he gaped at her with slack-jawed shock. On pure impulse, she pulled her shoulders back a fraction, pushing her chest forward to goad him. For the briefest of moments, his lashes lowered, and he sucked in a quiet breath through his teeth. Then he tore his eyes away, muttering a curse.
B.J. blinked, taken aback. She’d just gotten a response from the ice man. Grady Rawlings had looked at her with sexual awareness. Thinking this might be good for him, she licked her lips and quickly planned her next move.
The elevator stopped on their floor; he shot through the doors as soon as they began to open.
B.J. stuck to his heels, grabbing his arm.
“Don’t,” he said and shrugged her away, not
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The Trouble with Tomboys
once stopping his long-legged stride.
She clutched his wet, slippery sleeve again, ignoring the warning.
With a snarl, he swung around, grabbing her
wrist in a bruising grip and ripping her hand off him. The scorching heat in his eyes was deadly. “I do
not
ask for anyone’s sympathy. The last thing in the world I want is for everyone to treat me like some kind of—”
Ignoring his tirade, B.J. rose onto her toes and stamped her mouth against his, moving so fast, she gave him no time to back off or evade her before their lips were firmly sealed together.
He froze on contact, making a muffled sound of irritation. B.J. tasted his surprise, but she only pressed closer until the front of her soaked shirt clung to his. Then, lifting her hand, she touched the side of his neck. He jerked his face to the side, dodging her.
Not wanting him to break their connection, she bit down on his bottom lip.
In response, he growled and gripped her face in his hands, trying to pry her away, but not
succeeding because she dug her teeth in and refused to let him go.
He buried his fingers under her ponytail and balled his hands, capturing two fistfuls of hair and grasping them tight like he was wrapping horse reins around his knuckles. Knowing he intended to yank her off him by the roots of her hair, she retreated instantly, letting go of his lip with a sob of surrender.
They both froze, gaping at each other, chests heaving. His hands remained buried deep in her hair, ruining her ponytail all to hell. Her mouth trembled, moist and swollen. She tasted blood. His blood. Needing some semblance of order in her scattered brain, she licked the salty flavor off her 37
Linda Kage
bottom lip.
For some reason, that was his undoing.
With a moan that wasn’t quite human, he
tightened his fingers in her hair until she gasped.
Then he attacked, dragging her back to him and kissing her senseless. He took control, becoming the aggressor. His mouth punished as it moved against hers, bruising and savage. When she opened for him, he plunged his tongue deep, letting out an agonized, hungry sound and ravaging the moist, hot cavity within.
He grew hard against her stomach. She
whimpered, envisioning the heated length of him buried deep inside her.
“Grady,” she moaned. But his breathless name on her lips must’ve alerted him to reality because he yanked away, wheezing furiously, and spun blindly toward the wall to brace himself with one arm.
She panted too, gaping at him through her wet lashes. Oxygen chugged into her lungs so fast it burned her chest. His shoulders lifted and fell with their own erratic, unsteady rhythm.
He wouldn’t meet her gaze as he held up the
wall. But when he blew out a shuddered breath and turned, she saw his side profile and caught sight of a flushed expression with glazed eyes. Pulling himself together, he cleared his throat, stepped past her, and once again started for his room, staggering
unsteadily.
B.J. wasn’t about to let him go. “You responded to me,” she said, hurrying after him. “Are you just going to ignore that?”
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
Linda Kage
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.