Laying Down The Law (#4, Cowboy Way) (The Cowboy Way) (12 page)

“So fucking sweet,” he said, his voice full of gravel.

Suddenly, his hand dove into her hair to grip her skull as his other pulled her tightly against him and his mouth swooped in to cover hers, to suck her lips to tease them with his tongue.  A gurgling moan built in her throat when his tongue brought her salty essence into her mouth to excite her taste buds. 

His hand slid down her thigh to her knee and he jerked her calf up high on his hip. His hot palm branded her ass and his long fingers dipped into her wetness, teased her folds from behind as he devoured her mouth, brought her pleasure up to unbearable levels, but offered no satisfaction.  Melanie pressed her hips into him, trying to make contact with his cock to find relief for her aching clit, but his underwear, his rough jeans made it impossible.

“You have too many clothes on—get undressed now!” she growled, sliding her mouth from his to draw in frantic breaths.

“Shhh…” He put a finger over her lips to slice her quick breaths in half, to enflame her more when her scent wafted up her nostrils with each breath.

“
Now
, Brock,” she hissed, and he laughed as he released her to sit up and shuck his jeans and underwear. 

“You’re a bossy little thing aren’t you?” he asked, sitting on his haunches, his thick cock standing at attention between his thighs teasing her.

“
Needy
—I’m needy, Brock.  I
need
you inside of me,” she grated, lifting up to reach for him, but he grabbed her wrist to stare at her. 

She saw in his eyes that he was making a decision of some kind.  If that involved not finishing what he started this time, he might not need to worry about making that decision again, because she’d cut his balls off.  He didn’t have a condom, that’s what he was thinking about.

“I brought them, they’re in my pack on the porch,” she informed with a huffed breath.  She wasn’t going to tell him she was safe or had protection.  That didn’t matter, because he just didn’t trust women and she couldn’t blame him after what Lucy did to him. 

When he didn’t move, Melanie did.  Sitting up, she crawled toward the tent flap, but he grabbed her ankles and pulled her back. 

“I’ve been tested and I’m clean,” he announced surprising her. “I haven’t had sex since without one.”

“I told you I have an IUD and I have annual tests, as well as insist on condoms…except with you and I don’t know why.”  Yes, she did, because this man made her forget her own name when he touched her.  Definitely not healthy in a number of ways, but it was a fact.

Brock studied her a minute longer and Melanie could almost hear the wheels grinding in his head. When his face relaxed, she did too.

“I trust you,” he said finally, and her heart floated up to her throat.  Those three words sounded almost as good to her as the other three most women wanted to hear, because she knew they were harder for him to utter. 

Melanie crawled to him, shoved his shoulders and he laid back then pulled her to him for a deep kiss she felt at her core, a kiss that spoke to her soul.  A kiss that reiterated his words to her from earlier, and just now. 
He cared about her and trusted her
. 

The kiss continued until her system was so saturated with emotions her mind couldn’t process them.  His body felt like hot silk-covered steel as she rubbed herself against him, ground her hips into his desperately and his cock grew harder against her stomach.  His muscles tensed tighter and tighter under her touch, his fingers dug deeper into her ass until their moans combined into a wild crescendo of fraught need. 

A tremor rocked him and in a slow roll, Brock reversed their positions and Melanie spread her legs in welcome.  Her clit throbbed, and her inner muscles pulsed with the desire clawing at her insides as Brock lifted her calf to his side, positioned himself at her center then a violent tremor shook him as he plunged into her body in one powerful thrust. 

Melanie threw her head back and wallowed in the sting, the delicious, victorious stretch and the relief that poured through her.  Her inner walls pulsed around his thickness, her muscles trembled, and nothing in the universe had ever felt better.

Brock slid his arm under her to lift her higher as he raised to his knees.  His hips shifted back dragging his swollen head though her slick passage, and the incredible friction pulled a long, low moan from her throat as she curled her fingers into her palms. 

“Yes—faster,
please
,” she begged, and he shushed her.

His hips shot forward again, her nails dug into her palms, and she bit her lip to keep the ragged groan from escaping.  It traveled back down her body to swirl in her chest as he pulled back again then filled her. 

“We need to take this to the woods, because I need to scream,” he growled hoarsely, as he withdrew and grabbed her hand to drag her toward the tent flap.

He wanted to scream?  Melanie wanted to howl at the freaking moon, dance naked in it, bathe in all it’s glory.  If only her mother knew.

CHAPTER TWENTY

“Oh, God…Yes, Brock,
yesssssssss
,” Melanie hissed through her teeth as she arched her back and waves of pleasure rolled through her.  His fingers dug into her shoulders and Melanie’s fingers curled into the sheet.  “Left side,” she growled, biting down on the pillow case.  “Yes, there—oh, my
God
that’s so
good
,” she mumbled into the pillow.

“You’re turning me on with all that moaning, baby,” Brock said with a dark laugh, as he curled his fingers into the sheet covering Melanie’s back and she moaned loudly as he dragged it down to her waist. “When’s it going to be my turn?”

“You’ll get your turn,” she grumbled, wanting to roll over and punch him.  But then he wouldn’t help her find relief. “It was your idea to go into the woods after Brady went to sleep.  Now,
scratch
!”  It was also his fault she ended up naked against a tree in those woods, but Melanie sure couldn’t make herself regret that.

“We had to get the other tent, your sleeping bag and the rain gear anyway, didn’t we?” he replied, straightening his elbows to push the sheet back up to her shoulders. “Besides, you’d already found that patch of poison ivy before you ever walked out of the woods.  Your pack and all that gear you dropped was laying right in it.  You probably rolled in it when you slipped down.”

In all likelihood she had, but going back there, rolling in the patch again in the dark, cemented the fact she would be covered in poison ivy blisters all over her body four days later.  She took a little comfort in the fact that Brock was covered too, because misery definitely loved company in this case.  If he wasn’t suffering like she was, she’d probably kill him.  His rash was mostly on his chest arms, and neck, but he was still as itchy as she was.

“Get the Calamine lotion and give me another massage, will you?” she asked, wishing she was asking him to get the massage oil, because this scratching business was starting another itch.  He said her moaning was turning him on? 

Well, the ecstasy of his scratching her itch was doing things for her.  Delicious things, that made her want more.  That last round
had
almost made her orgasm.  It would’ve been orgasm number ten since Saturday night, and the only one from the poison ivy which broke out yesterday morning. 

At this moment though, she’d have to settle for Calamine lotion.  And a stiff drink with a Benadryl chaser to numb the insane itching.  She had things to do once she was well coated with lotion and sedated.

Brock got out of the bed and padded naked to the bedroom door.  Melanie couldn’t help but watch the flex of his tight ass until he disappeared into the hallway to go to the bathroom.  When he reappeared in the doorway he held his cell phone in one hand texting with his thumb and the lotion in the other. 

His dark frown sent her concern off the charts. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked, sitting up in the bed.  “Is Brady okay?”

Melanie knew who he was texting without asking.  Lucy, who now knew, or suspected she was staying here with Brock.  The woman had been texting and calling nonstop since they’d dropped Brady off on Sunday evening.  Mel wanted to stay at the ranch while he dropped him off, but both Brock and Brady insisted she ride with them.  She imagined the hug the boy gave her before he got out of the SUV didn’t go over well with his mother.  If Lucy’s scowl as she watched from the sidewalk was any indication, that was definitely true.

Since then, Brock had been over at her apartment every night because Brady was sick again and asking for him.  Melanie couldn’t begrudge him going over there when his son was sick, and Lucy probably knew that.  She wondered if Lucy did this shit to Brock when she wasn’t around and it wasn’t related jealousy.  If so, that was definitely a red flag the size of Georgia that waved toward MBP.

After seeing the distinct difference in Brady away from Lucy, away from whatever she was doing to him, Melanie knew without a doubt
something
fishy was going on. 

Three envelopes of records all from general practitioners or pediatricians.  After two or three visits, the doctors referred him to various specialists: endocrinologists, immunologists, gastroenterologists and finally an allergist so they didn’t contain much information.  The records from those specialists, their notes and test results are what she wanted to see.

Every one of the general physicians noted they felt like Lucy wasn’t telling them everything, though, because the symptoms were so systemic and inconsistent.  A kid was either sick or he wasn’t, unless something chronic was going on.  

The acute onset of his symptoms pointed to something environmental, which is probably why the third doctor sent him to the allergist.  The only normal, explainable childhood illness she’d seen documented in any of the files was his last visit to Dr. Carter for a common cold, which his grandmother had brought him into the office for.

All the other notes were visits for unexplained stomach aches, headaches, failure to thrive because he wasn’t eating and was underweight, nosebleeds and various injuries because he’d fallen or bumped into something.

You like gummy bears?
No, but Brady eats the hell out of them. 

Why in the hell was she so convinced this whole problem was somehow tied to that candy?  She paid extra for the lab in Atlanta to rush the results from the bag she’d sent off to be analyzed on Friday.  The bag of fifteen or so pieces of candy she’d confiscated from Brady’s backpack when she repacked for him and Brock. 

Two more days and she would know for certain what was going on. 

By then she should have more of the medical records they’d requested in too.  Melanie knew what she’d be doing this coming weekend, and it wouldn’t be camping.  Maybe she’d suggest that Brady and Brock go back though.  At least that would keep him safely away from his mother, and give Melanie peace to focus on those records.

“Lucy is taking Brady to a pediatric ophthalmologist across the state line in South Carolina.  The school called her to come and pick him up because he was complaining everything was blurry.” 

Another symptom that pointed toward diabetes. 
Some of his other symptoms did too, but not all of them. 
Was she wrong about Munchausen’s
?  Was Brady just a product of a recessive gene in the family gene pool and she was targeting Lucy because she couldn’t stand her?

It was possible, because Melanie had definitely lost her professional distance in this situation.  She was in way too deep with Brock, was beginning to care and worry about Brady like his mother should be doing, and she detested Lucy way too much to be objective.  

Brock’s dire tone, the worry in his eyes, ripped Melanie’s heart out because she couldn’t help him at all.  Couldn’t tell him things would be okay, because she didn’t know herself, and because she wasn’t state licensed yet she couldn’t order the tests herself to find out.  New results would probably come in quicker than waiting on all of the medical records. 

Melanie had no idea what labs had been ordered by the other doctors anyway, so more testing might be necessary.  She knew what tests she would order, and would as soon as her temporary emergency license was approved.  If it was approved.  The permanent license could take a month according to the woman at the state board she’d spoken with on Monday after she submitted her applications.

“Do you want to go with her?” she asked. 

That would buy her some time to call the licensing board again privately, since she hadn’t told Brock what she’d done yet.  It would also give her time to go through Doc Carter’s office to finish the list of what would be needed to reopen.

“She asked me to, but I look like I have leprosy right now,” he replied with a dark laugh, as he shoved a hand with flaky red skin and blisters on the back through his hair.  “Her mother is going with her.”

“I need to go to Doc Carter’s office today,” Melanie said. 
And while I’m there, I’m going to look again for those damned lab reports I know are there somewhere. 

She and Dr. Carter thought alike, so she knew he would’ve suspected diabetes too and would’ve ordered a fasting blood sugar.  Considering his massive patient file on Brady, she was very surprised the report wasn’t in there.  But not so much, since she knew he was always behind on his filing.  Before she let Lucy off of the hook, Melanie wanted to see those labs or order her own.

“Again?” Brock groaned, plopping down on the edge of the bed, looking a little put out. 

She knew he wanted to spend the last days of his vacation before he went back to work on Monday having sex like they’d been doing non-stop since Saturday night, and she’d be on board with that if she wasn’t covered in blisters—and running out of time.

This was week three that she’d been back in Sunny Glen, and her mother went back to the orthopedist next week to get a walking cast put on, even though she was already walking against his advice.  Aunt June was threatening to soak her cast off, and Melanie told her it didn’t work like that with fiberglass casts and she’d be very sorry if she got it wet.  Those two were a handful and would probably be the same in twenty-five years when they were eighty.

If the doctor put her in a walking cast, or even a rehab brace, there would be no need for Melanie to hang around.  There wasn’t really a need now.

“Yeah, I have some things to do, and someone is meeting me there.” The technician from the electric company and the water man to turn on the utilities.  Then she had two phone interviews with residents who might be interested in the practice.

“That’s every day this week.  You better watch out or the residents of Sunny Glen might think you’re setting up shop.” 

Melanie’s eyes flew to his, because it almost sounded like his statement contained a question, hope of some kind, and his eyes and smile confirmed it.

She couldn’t laugh it off, that would be dishonest.  “I am in a way,” she replied, and his face flashed surprise.  “Sunny Glen needs a doctor so I’m getting Dr. Carter’s office in shape, and I sent out feelers to UCLA to see if I can find a new doctor to set up a practice.”

He twisted and his hands shot out to grip her shoulders.  “Why don’t you take it over?” he said, as if that wasn’t something that ever crossed her mind.  “Stay in Sunny Glen, Melanie, the town needs you—the people know you.”

But you haven’t said you need me
.

Whether the people of Sunny Glen needed her or not, without that kind of sign from him, she couldn’t stay here.  Seeing him and Brady every day would be a living hell, and putting up with Lucy who would always be between them because of Brady would make it worse. 

Melanie wasn’t about to set herself up for that fall.  She’d already fallen far enough in love with this man and his son that it was going to be very painful to leave them.  It would be even more painful to stay without being in his life, or worse being only his undercover lover.  The sex with Brock was off the charts good, but not worth her dignity or self-respect.

No things were getting too complicated in this town, and like Brock, she wanted to keep her life uncomplicated.

“I can’t do that, Brock. I have a contract with the hospital and it doesn’t expire for another year, but I promise I’ll find someone good before I leave.” 

The light left his eyes, and he sighed as his hands fell from her shoulders. “I think you’re making a mistake, but I understand.”

And there it was
.  When he got up and walked out of the bedroom without another word, she had confirmation she’d made the right decision.