Somethin' Dirty: Country Fever, Book 4 (17 page)

Almost.

He pressed his lips into a line. Things had to go right for him at this appointment. If they learned his ma wasn’t well enough for the surgery, he didn’t know how he’d react. Maybe he’d twist the doctor’s arm and dislocate his elbow too.

His ire rushed up fast and hard, like a river swelling after a heavy rain. That weasel of a man at The Hellion had asked if Griffin was Nola’s father.

Over the past week, he’d played and replayed that through his mind. Did they truly look so mismatched? When he glimpsed their reflections in the mirror together, he saw only perfection. He ignored the silver strands in his beard or the fact he’d been losing his virginity when she’d been wetting her pants.

Age hadn’t mattered when he was buried inside her, their gazes locked as they made love. Fell in love.

He was sure he wasn’t the only one to feel it. The glow in her eyes was only there for him.

His ma rustled the pages of the magazine, and Lyric was ready for a new chew toy. He removed his finger from her mouth and bent to dig through the diaper bag for her favorite teething ring. She batted it aside and issued a shriek.

The entire office looked at him, and he gave a smile of apology. Bending to his mother’s ear, he said, “I’ll just take her out for a minute, Ma.”

“I’ll be fine.”

He was glad to hear that old spark of independence in his mother. As he made his way outside with Lyric, his mind returned to Nola. He was like a dog with a bone. He couldn’t stop digging it up.

Strolling down the sidewalk, he showed Lyric the pink flowers in the bushes. One fat fist closed around a bloom and she plucked it off, directing it to her mouth. He pulled it free before she did more than touch her lips with it.

He pivoted on the sidewalk and headed back up. The town of Reedy was laid out before him. Small side streets and quaint buildings. Houses close together. One of them was the Brady residence. He could probably find it with his eyes shut. In the week since they’d been apart, he’d traced and retraced the route to it.

Maybe she’d be open to him paying her a visit. He could take his ma home and drive back. When Nola opened the door, he’d rip her off her feet and claim her mouth. Letting her know just where she belonged.

With a shake of his head, he paced in the opposite direction again. He let Lyric pull off another flower. This time she marveled at it, holding it in front of her face and not trying to eat it.

There was a florist’s shop on the main street. What he wouldn’t give for extra cash to buy Nola a bouquet. Woo her a little. Not middle-aged rancher style but proper boyfriend.

Lyric aimed the flower at her mouth, and he removed it from her hand. Then he held her up in front of him. “Let’s see if it’s time for Nana’s appointment.”

His daughter gave him a toothless grin. They headed inside just as the nurse called for Alice Turner.

For the next half hour he listened to the doctor speak about chances and percentages. But by the time they walked out, he felt the first stirrings of hope.

“You all right about this surgery being scheduled for next week?” he asked his ma once they were in the car again.

“I don’t see how I have a choice.” She sat in the backseat, holding a bottle for Lyric. The baby’s snorting noises as she sucked filled the space.

“No, but it’s good news. We’re kicking the cancer’s ass.” He glanced at her before turning out of town for the road leading to Needle’s Pass.

“I relish the thought.” His ma’s voice was more like her familiar tone.

He grinned. “What do you think about spending the afternoon alone? You’ll be okay?”

“Sure.” She stared at his profile until he swung his head to look at her. “You thinking of taking a trip?”

“Yes. Lyric and I want to visit an old friend.”

His ma made a noise. “Lyric’s been missing that friend, I think.”

The corner of his mouth twitched up. Excitement wove through him at the idea of driving back to Reedy and setting eyes on the beautiful woman who haunted him.

His smile spread over his mouth and up to his eyes. He nodded. “Been thinkin’ that myself.”

Nola held the long note on her song, rippling through the octave. For a week she’d been working hard at her music. Writing poetry and putting the words to music. She’d played guitar until her fingertips burned and sang until she grew hoarse.

It felt good.

She was almost ready to go. She’d book the flight today.

Pausing in her song, she grabbed the pen and scribbled out a word on her page. Then she wrote in a new word.

The faint notes of the doorbell sounded above. She blew out a breath and set aside her guitar. By the time she ran the flight of stairs and got to the front door, the doorbell had rung four times.

“What’s so important?” she asked as she threw open the door.

Her heart convulsed, and her pussy clenched at the sight of the big man filling her doorway. T-shirt straining perfectly over his broad chest and sleeves bulging around biceps that had supported him while he moved within Nola.

And Lyric rode on his arm, bright eyes centering on Nola in recognition.

“This is what’s so important.” He stepped into the house, crowding her back. Then he hooked one arm around her and crashed his mouth over hers.

She sucked in a breath, filling her nose with his piney, musky scent she’d spent a damn week craving. She’d gone through her duffle bag twice, smelling articles of clothing for a hint of the man she’d stayed with.

He swept her mouth with his tongue. A quiet mewl burst from her as the chorus to his song played through her head.

He lifted his head. She stared up at him for a long heartbeat. Rattled. More turned-on than ever, and rapidly forgetting her decision to stay away from Griffin and head straight to Nashville.

That flight seemed destined for someone else. She belonged here, pressed against him, with Lyric’s chubby hand moving over her hair.

The baby yanked, and Griffin huffed with laughter. “Now, Lyric, that’s no way to greet our friend.”

If he’d said
my lover
she would have whirled away and run for the phone to book that flight. But his use of friend made her pause.

Countless hours they’d spent lying in bed talking, his callused fingers playing over her skin while she related her favorite color, what subjects she’d excelled at in school. And how she liked to use a certain note in her voice to hook the crowd.

And he’d told her things too. His best subjects in school had been math and science. His favorite color was red because she looked gorgeous in it, and he had a thing for tanned legs in cowgirl boots.

He’d also talked at length with her about the operations on the ranch. She’d never imagined she’d be interested in such things, but she’d hung on his every low-pitched word.

She and Griffin were friends.

And her pussy throbbed for him.

“Why are you here?” she asked, trying to vanquish the breathy tone from her voice.

His dark eyes burned, riveting her to the floor. She couldn’t move to make a call if the house were on fire. “What can I do to make you come back?”

His gritty words shot down any argument she might have raised. Warmth bloomed low in her belly, even when Lyric tugged hard at her hair.

She missed him, missed the baby. She wanted to make Alice hot tea when she woke up, and she wanted to sleep with her head on Griffin’s muscled chest.

She swayed toward him, and he caught her, tucking her so tightly against him she couldn’t move, and didn’t want to anyway. Tilting her face up to his, she hooked her arm around his neck. The soft curls on his nape tickled her bare skin.

“Teach me that damn song, Griffin. I can’t get it out of my head.”

He dropped his forehead to hers, staring into her eyes up close. Nola laid a palm on Lyric’s rounded belly and felt the child’s heart fluttering under her fingertips as her father’s heart thrummed against her breasts.

“Get your things, baby doll. There’s only one place I can properly teach that song.”

She swallowed hard at the heat in his gaze. “Where’s that?”

“My bed.”

Chapter Eleven

Griffin nuzzled the sweetly scented backside of Nola’s knee. She squirmed, but he tightened the circle of his fingers around her ankle. “It comes only once.”

He snaked his tongue over her skin, and she echoed the line with a squeak. He smiled and dragged his teeth lightly down to her calf. Her head was turned sharply in the covers, face flushed pink.

“Ah, c’mon, country singer. You can do better than that,” he chided, sucking on the tight swell of her calf.

Seeing her curled toes did more to his ego than anything in his life. He worked his way down to her ankle as she repeated the lyric again, this time in a clearer voice.

“Beautiful,” he murmured against her skin, and pressed a trail of kisses up to her thigh. He moved to her inner thigh. She parted her legs and raised her ass to present her dripping-wet pussy.

The folds glistened with the cream of two orgasms he’d given—with his mouth then fingers. But it wasn’t enough. When she left his bed this time, she’d be so thoroughly loved, she’d be ruined for another man.

Even in Nashville, she’d touch herself while thinking of him.

He slithered his tongue right into her wet folds. She cried out and bucked. For long minutes he tongue-fucked her before lifting his head. “Sing it to me, baby doll. All of it.”

She rocked her hips and slipped a hand between the mattress and her body, going right for her clit.

He caught her hand and stopped her. “My pussy. You release for me. Now sing.”

Breathing hard, she collapsed against the bed and sang his song in such a sweet voice, tears jumped into his eyes.

God, didn’t she see how right she was for him? How well they worked and played together?

A voice in the back of his mind said she needed to fulfill her dreams. And he’d let her. Right after she wore his goddamn ring.

When she finished the song verse, he released her hand and flipped her over. She stretched before him, golden flesh and strawberry-blonde waves. Her eyes were hazy with passion and her lips swollen from sucking his cock.

He still hadn’t penetrated her. They weren’t to that part of the song yet.

She reached for him. When her short nails grazed his shoulders, his cock lengthened another fraction. He gained his knees and angled it right at her pussy. The damn condom he’d been wearing for several minutes felt like a constricting band.

He tunneled against her pussy lips, parting them around his aching head. The next verse of the song came out gritty. She hooked a leg around his hip and tugged him hard, but he resisted her.

A frustrated noise erupted from her throat, but her eyes were soft. “I’ll run through the rain for you. Only one lyric important enough to sing to you…”

Jeezus. Did that mean…? Was she admitting it?

He thrust home. His cock buried to the root in her tight, hot pussy. “I love you,” he rasped the next lyric, and began to move.

She wrapped her other leg around him and rose and fell with the tempest of their lovemaking. When he found her lips, she delivered an emotion-packed kiss that drove all the worries from his mind.

With her by him, he could face anything. Ten surgeries with Ma and Lyric’s mouthy years. He could survive another calving season like the one he’d just had, losing all the calves to sickness again.

She swirled her hips against his, and the head of his cock ground against her deepest point. He growled and bit into her lower lip. She panted the same line. “Only one lyric…important enough…Fuck, Griffin! Make me come!”

He withdrew, gripped her ass to get a better angle and pounded into her. The orgasm rushed over him, and their flesh slapped in a wild tune. Her inner walls gripped him perfectly, clenching and releasing in rapid succession as he poured into her body.

Then he captured her mouth again and poured all his emotion into that caress. Their breathing slowed. She ran her hands over his spine. Each pass felt like love.

Though she hadn’t stated it.

He rolled them until she lay atop him. Her weight aroused him all over again, and his cock twitched inside her.

She giggled. “Already? It’s been thirteen seconds.”

“Thirteen seconds too long.”

She pressed a noisy kiss on his pec, sucking the skin until it burned, and he knew she’d left a mark. He wanted to roar with satisfaction.

“Tell me something good about your week, Griffin.”

He didn’t even hesitate. “When you opened the door to me.”

A quiet noise left her, and her gaze melted further. “Something else.”

“Finding out Ma is ready for the surgery. I’m eager to get to the next stage of this fight.”

She nodded, suddenly sober. “It’s great news.”

“Yeah, the tumor growth has stopped enough to operate.”

“When is the surgery?” she asked.

He scuffed his beard over her shoulder until she shivered. “Next week.”