Page 91 of Find You Again (Nashville Star 2)

“But you agree, right?”

His golden eyes are thoughtful. “I do. But hell if I know the endin’ to a story fifteen years in the makin’.”

Alabama runs a hand over her notebook. “Maybe there’s no endin’. Maybe it just keeps goin’ and not even the universe can end it.”

“I tend to like that explanation.”

She smiles. “Either way, I love the song. It’s so close.”

Griff sets a broad hand on her bare thigh. “That smile looks good on you, Al.”

She inclines her head. “You ever wonder if we could have made it as the Copper Hounds?”

His eyes widen, and then he grins. “You know, I don’t know about that.” He tugs at the end of his scruff. “I would’ve hoped so.”

“Me too.” She chews on the thought. “We could do it.”

He cuts her a sharp look. “What’re you talkin’ about?”

“We’re good together. Everyone says it. Even the Star. After the winter tour, we—we could do our own thing for a while. Record the song together. If you want.” She flushes, instantly annoyed with herself. Good Lord, she’s acting like she just proposed or something.

Griff’s staring at her like she’s gone crazy, then his face breaks out into a rare overjoyed smile. “Fuck yeah, I want.”

“You do?”

“Definitely. Hell, let’s do it right now!” He slaps his hands together with such force that Alabama laughs.

“After the winter tour.” Alabama sighs impatiently, dropping her head back against the couch. She misses the stage, the spotlight. As long as she has that and Griff, even a busted arm can’t get her down. “I can’t wait. I want it so damn bad.”

“I know you do.”

“I need it.”

“I know that too.”

Alabama glances up at the twang of a guitar. Griff’s setting it aside, lowering himself to the rug in front of her. He takes her notebook and places it on the coffee table behind them. Then he wraps his arms around Alabama’s waist and buries his face in her abdomen. His hungry, near-reverent shudder has her toes curling. Alabama runs her fingers through his hair and smiles in response.

No one holds her tighter than Griff.

Lifting her shirt, Griff trails fervent kisses across her stomach, her sternum, her breasts. She meets his eyes to find his gaze greedy and wanting.

“Our music,” Alabama murmurs, her mind wanting to keep the conversation going, the song playing, even as her body screams at her to not be an idiot. “If we don’t practice, we’re gonna get rusty and ... oh ...”

She closes her eyes as Griff takes her breast in his mouth.

Her grip on his hair tightens.

“I think I know a cure for gettin’ rusty.”

Pulling away, Griff looks up at her. Cockiness dances in those tawny gold eyes. Knowledge that she is as hot for him as he is for her.

Her body arches, aching, on the couch. “Griff ...”

“Woman, hush,” he says, his smile devilish, before diving back in to devour her once more.

Alabama tips her head back, letting Griff consume her, giving herself over to the moment. This one perfect moment in time where she has everything she’s ever wanted.

---