He reached over and took my coffee off the porch rail, took a sip, made a face because it was still too hot, and set it back down.
Then he took my hand again.
"Mornin', viper."
"Mornin', boy scout."
The sun came up over the ridge the rest of the way. The meadowlark picked up its three notes again somewhere past the drive.
Some day, when the words were mine and not Denny's, I'd tell Brody what had been said on this porch. He'd listen steady and unhurried and let me process it out loud. Not today.
Today, I was living.
CHAPTERFIFTY-ONE
Showerin'wasn't as nice as bein' bathed by my viper, but she'd run off to the supermarket.
She'd said I needed soup.
It was eighty-eight degrees out today.
And I wasn't sick.
I didn't need no soup.
But she was feelin' a bit raw after Denny's visit, even if she wouldn't say it.
She may have told me she was okay, but that didn't mean I didn't stand there with my ear pressed to the door like a teenager spyin' on their parents.
I was ready to step in the moment the conversation went sideways. But Denny said his piece, then he was gone.
Good riddance—to him, and Wyatt fuckin' Cole.
I toweled off and was workin' the arm attached to my fucked shoulder into a shirt when I heard the telltale sign of Doc Martens clompin' up the stairs. I froze, one arm through the sleeve of my tee, face covered by the fabric, and the other arm lookin' like a chicken wing tryin' to fly away.
The stompin' stopped shortly thereafter but was quickly followed by a snort of laughter.
"Need a little help there, boy scout?"
"Do not laugh at me, woman. I aminjured."
I could only make out the shape of her through the gray material between us, but she was makin' her way toward me. Her fingertips grazed the skin of my stomach, and my dick was instantly hard.
That's all it took with my viper.
Fingertips.
"I got you," she whispered, her impossibly soft hands movin' over my body. With the amount of manual labor the woman did, they oughta have been rough as sandpaper. She tugged my shirt over my head, stretchin' the fabric to wiggle my arm through the sleeve hole.
Then she slid her hands lower to the very obvious tent in my gym shorts. She gripped my shaft and stroked me slowly through the material.
"Need anything else?" Damn siren was usin' her sex voice on me, and I was in no shape to fuck her senseless. It'd been less than a week since I'd last had her, but I wanted to fuck her into oblivion. Show her how good it would be forforeversince that was how long I'd beg her to stay.
"I, uh—" I cleared my throat. Swallowed hard. "I don't know if I can really?—"
"Don't worry, baby," she said, raisin' up onto her tiptoes to kiss me softly, gently, and far too quickly. "I'll take care of you."
She advanced on me, my dick still in her hand, which forced me back a few steps. My knees hit the back of the bed and I dropped to sit on instinct.
