Free Somethin' Dirty: Country Fever, Book 4 by Em Petrova

sky.
    Nola’s voice rose and fell in a soft ballad. He’d heard the popular song before, but her unique twist was more compelling. He placed the call to the vet and waited while Nola sang two more songs. Finally, the monitor fell silent.
    Griffin swiped his damp forehead with his forearm. Telling himself over and over that Nola was too young, wasn’t for him, didn’t keep brand new feelings from seeping in.
    Half an hour later, frustration mounted when the vet arrived and took over the battle for the calf’s life.
    “We’ll save your cow, Turner. But we might not be so lucky with the calf,” Rick said.
    Griffin set his teeth together and nodded. The sun was mounting the sky. Soon he’d have to clean up and take his mother to the hospital for blood work. He’d be forced to abandon his morning routine with Lyric, and that didn’t set well with him, even if Nola was doing fine.
    Time ticked by, and he kept glancing at his watch.
    “Got somewhere to be, Turner?” Rick asked, cranking the rig for all it was worth. The calf moved a few inches, and its foot appeared.
    Griffin shook his head. “I’ll see this through.”
    A few minutes later, the cow gave a huge push, and the calf landed in the hay, still.
    “I was afraid of that,” Rick said quietly.
    Griffin stared at the newborn, hating that it was lost. Such a big fight to end like this.
    His mother’s battle might end the same. And Lyric might grow into a wild child. He may turn out to be a hopeless single parent. Might as well heap on the trouble.
    “Goddammit,” he grated out and got to his feet.
    “I’ll finish up here. You go inside. You’ve had a longer night than I have, Turner.” Rick nodded to him.
    Chest burning with anxiety, Griffin stomped out of the barn. He cleaned up with the frigid water from the outdoor spigot then went into the kitchen, where he used soap.
    Around him the house was silent. Nola was feet away, sleeping on the couch, and Lyric wouldn’t be up yet. Griffin stripped off his shirt and poured himself a big glass of that sweet tea he’d been craving.
    After a night like this, he wished he could abuse his liver with something harder as he had in his youth, but now Lyric took care of that thought.
    A shifting step made him raise his head. Nola stood there, tousled from sleep, her eyes heavy-lidded and her lips ripe.
    He might not have any control over a lost calf or his mother’s illness or how much Lyric disobeyed in her teen years, but dammit, he could take what he needed.
    In three strides he caught Nola in his arms.
     
    When he slanted his mouth over hers, she gave an all-over shiver. He suctioned his lips against hers, and she gulped in his scent.
    This was one hell of a way to wake up. A bare-chested man in the kitchen, wearing an expression of fierce need would melt any woman, especially when she’d lain awake on his couch for hours, thinking about him.
    Wanting him to do this very thing.
    He took control of the kiss, swirling his tongue over hers until she grew dizzy. Her nipples puckered. When he lightly dragged his teeth over her tongue, her pussy clenched.
    Swaying against him, she pressed her aching breasts to his chest. The craving for more was too strong to fight. Since that night at The Hellion, she’d only wanted to feel his rigid length gliding inside her. Now that she knew him a little better, that need was stronger.
    Painfully stronger.
    She looped her arms around his neck and drowned in his kisses. He rocked his erection against her lower belly—a promise to come.
    Every touch, every kiss he’d given her whirled in her brain like a song—a strong man with loneliness in his eyes that vanished when he looked at her. The song could write itself, and maybe later she’d pick it out on her guitar.
    Nola tangled her fingers in the longer hair on his nape. He followed her action, twisting his fist in her waves and yanking her head back. She gasped as he dropped his mouth to her throat and licked it like the