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“I think I can get in on my own. Getting out will be the hardest,” she tells me after a few short steps. We’re already in front of the tub, and I shake my head.
“All the same, I’ll help you in, just to be on the safe side. Now isn’t the time to be independent, baby. Let me help you so you don’t suffer.” My hand slides from hers to her elbow, holding it in a firm and steady grip.
“One day, you’re going to be in a similar position, and just wait and see how you act. You’re going to hate every second of me taking care of you as well as not allowing you to do anything.” She lifts one leg up, her toes meeting the water first, making sure it’s to her liking before placing her foot completely in the water.
“Highly unlikely, but sure, we’ll go with that.” She grumbles in the back of her throat, and I smile. I’d be the worst patient there is, which is why I plan on not doing anything to turn me into one. I wait until she’s completely submerged andthe water is up to her shoulders before I turn the water off. “You need anything before I get dinner started?” I ask. Her eyes are closed, head tipped back, and I make a note to get her some shit like a pillow or something, maybe one of those bathtub trays Mom has in hers, and whatever else.
“My phone? I want to check on Tully.”
“You got it.” I’m bent at the waist, moving a tendril of her hair and placing a kiss on her forehead. I’ve got to get shit done, and staying here in the bathroom with her won’t accomplish cooking dinner, that’s for sure.
16
BIRDIE
“I havea major bone to pick with you, Birdie Robertson. Some best friend you are.” Lane brought my phone to me along with a pain reliever and a drink to wash it down with—shirtless. The only piece of fabric on his body was a pair of worn-in denim jeans perfectly molded to his thick thighs and firm butt. There’s something about Lane barefoot, comfortable in his own skin and looking so damn sexy I have to keep my thighs clenched permanently.
“You can yell at me later. Are you settled? Do you need anything, groceries, a hot meal? And don’t you dare say I’ve done enough, Tallulah Jennings, because I have not done enough.” I’m pointing my finger at the wall that holds a mounted television as if she’s in front of me. Jesus, Lane really likes his TVs. There’s a massive one in the living room, one in thebedroom, and one in the bathroom. He took the bachelorhood meaning and ran with it. I haven’t been adventurous enough to check if there’s one in the garage or on the back porch. I’d be willing to bet there’s one in the garage, at the very least.
“What? No ma’am. Do not even come at me with that line of bullshit. We may not be sisters by blood, but you, my dear, are stuck with me, and we are sisters in every other way imaginable. I’m good on the food. Your mom stopped by with the most delicious thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.” I slap a hand over my mouth, trying not to let the snort loose, as well as the laughter that will come with it. It’s impossible. There’s no way to hold it in.
“In your mouth? Really? And what have you been putting in it recently?” I ask between short bouts of breathing and chuckling. I have to wrap my arms around my waist to hold myself together. Luckily, my ear and shoulder can hold the phone instead of dropping it in the bathtub.
“I walked right into that, but I wouldn’t mind having a taste of Dean. Speaking of, you could give a girl some damn warning.” I was pulling up to the greenhouse just as Lane and Dean were. It’s not like I could have called to give her a heads-up. She was conked out in the passenger seat, and by the time I got in my own car, they were already there.
“Well, wait till you see the rest of them. They didn’t get their nickname,The Rowdy JohnsonBrothers,for no reason. They’re all easy on the eyes. Mrs. Catherine and Mr. Russell know how to make them. All the brothers have brown hair in different variations, blue eyes, are six foot plus, and goodness gracious, their muscles,” I add on the last two for good measure. There’s a man standing just outside of the doorway. He doesn’t realize I see him, and that works in my favor. I put our call on speakerphone and set it on the ledge of the window. The tub has a view of the snowcapped mountains, green trees, and the cows the Johnsons have grazing top it off.
“I like what I’m hearing. Please tell me more.” Tallulah can read the room like no other when we’re together. Over the phone, it can be a bit tricky.
“Hmm, let me see. Where do I begin? Oh, I know. The last time I was home, we were all at the rodeo. Each of the brothers competed back then. I’m not sure if they do now. Well, let me tell you, there is something sexy about a man in a cowboy hat, chambray shirt, jeans that mold to their long legs, and a pair of scuffed-up boots. Then you get to see their muscles when they’re handling an animal.”
Lane chooses that time to barge into the bathroom, the door squeaking on its hinges as he pushes it open, “You looking at me or my brothers, Beatrice Robertson?”
“Gotta go, Tully. My man has entered the chat. I love you!”
“Love you, babe. Enjoy your time. Good night, Lane,” Tully says through the speaker, her voice echoing in the bathroom.
“Night, Tallulah,” Lane says, looking directly at me as he advances toward me. “Tell me, Birdie, were you looking at my brothers all those years ago, or were you looking at me?” The hot water has done wonders for my ribs. The tightness is easing, and I don’t have any problem using my arms to push me upward.
“You, Lane, always you.”
“Damn fucking straight, Birdie.” He drops to his knees beside the tub, and one hand slides up the inside of my thigh.
“Lane.” My head tips back, my eyes start to close, and I spread my thighs for him.
The palm of his hand cups my center in a possessive way. My eyes open, no longer half-lidded. His jaw clenches, his muscles tighten, and I know he’s holding back.
“All I see is you, Lane. Please don’t stop.” I wrap my hand around his wrist, worried he’ll take himself away if I so much as wince, and there’s no way I can allow that to happen. My hips arch up, silently urging him to keep going, and when I feel the tips of his deft fingers move along my slit, I can no longer hold in the moan. My wetness coats him, my body shivering with the longing to feel him slip inside. On the outside, Lane holds out, strumming my clit with his thumb at onepoint, and then I feel his finger press against my ass.
“Look at my Birdie, wet and naked for me. You’re absolutely aching for me to fuck you with my fingers. I can see it written all over you. Should I give you what you want? Two fingers in your ass, just how you like it, while my thumb fucks your cunt? Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.” True to his word, he does exactly what he promises he will. I widen my thighs even farther, feeling the delicious burn of my body stretching to fit his fingers. Lane uses my juices as lubricant to work his fingers, first one, and then two barely pressing in while my pussy sucks greedily at his thumb.
“Oh god.” I wiggle myself down on his finger at my ass. I’m filled with want, need, and desire. I’d give anything for it to be his cock instead of his fingers invading me. It’s been too many years, too long since I’ve felt him stretch me. Lane would work my ass with his cock while using his fingers inside my pussy. Each time he pulled out to push back in, his fingers would pick up where his cock left off. “More, Lane.”
“We take this nice and slow, or we stop, baby.” I’d cry, scream or plead my case if I thought, for one second, it would make him change his mind. Since the likelihood of that happening is slim to none, I do one better. I lift my hips up, meeting him each time he presses in until I’ve got one finger firmly in place.
“What I wouldn’t give to have my mouth on your pretty clit.” The visual is absolutely doing it for me. Lane is a giver, not a taker. Even when I try to reciprocate, he feels the need to one-up my orgasm ration to his. There’s no changing his mind. He won’t stop until I’m completely wrung dry.
“Please, I want that, Lane, so much,” I try to persuade him. I drop my hand from where it was on the ledge of the tub, moving it to the nape of his neck to pull his lips closer to mine. If I can’t have his mouth on my pussy, I may as well have it in the form of a kiss.
