Cowboy Take Me Away(120)
Carolyn crawled across his body. “You didn’t test it first?”
Greedily, he cupped those luscious swinging breasts in his hands. “Nope. I just bought the top of the line model. And I don’t mind tellin’ you, I hope we wear this bed out fast.”
Her fingers circled his cock and she swirled the tip around her pussy, getting it wet with her juices before she filled herself with his hardness.
They groaned in unison.
She leaned as far forward as her belly allowed and locked her gaze to his. “Thank you for buying us a new bed, Carson. But I’d be happy sleeping on a sack of straw as long as it was with you.”
“That pretty much describes our old bed.” He pushed a long strand of hair over her shoulder. “Lots of good memories in that bed. And in that house.”
“You gonna miss it?”
“Some.”
“Me too.” She smiled that secret smile and started to move on him. “But I am looking forward to all the different places we can make memories in this house.”
“Good. ’Cause I was thinkin’ the next memory I’d like to have is bending you over the counter in our bathroom and fuckin’ you in front of the mirror.” He slapped her ass. “So get movin’ and ride me hard, sugar; time’s a’wastin’.”
A loud caw startled him out of the memory.
Carson shook himself, grabbed the pile of mail and headed inside.
They’d made a lot of changes to this house over the years. Kids had come and gone; now grandkids wreaked havoc whenever they came over. Carolyn loved the chaos. Since the moment they’d moved in, she’d said a house this size should be filled with kids. He’d done his best to make that dream come true for her, for both of them.
Now it was quiet most days. Never more so than in that moment he walked into Carolyn’s kitchen and noticed the baking goods she’d laid out the morning of her accident. Cocoa, sugar, flour, chocolate chips, a bag of wrapped caramels, and the dark pan she swore was the reason her brownies were always so good.
His gaze landed on the dishes in the sink. It’d drive the woman nuts if she knew they’d been sitting there stinking for three days. His steps faltered when he saw her coffee cup, half full, pink lipstick stain on the edge, sitting in the same spot in the kitchen where she read the paper and planned her day.
Why seeing that lone coffee cup hit him like a mule kick in the gut, he had no idea. Why he placed his lips over that lipstick mark, hoping for a taste of her when he downed her three-day old coffee, made no sense either, but he found himself doing it anyway.
The coffee was the bitterest he’d ever tasted.
Old fool. Acting like she’s already gone. Instead of lamenting the fact she ain’t here, why don’t you do something useful and clean up her space so she don’t have a conniption fit when she does come home?
Carson rolled up his sleeves, needing to touch the things she’d last touched, and got to work.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Hospital, Day 3—early evening
After he’d taken a hot shower in his own bathroom, donned fresh clothes and packed for himself and Carolyn, Carson returned to the hospital.
Still, he felt guilty for his three-hour absence and the fifteen minutes he’d missed spending with his wife.
Had she noticed?
Don’t be ridiculous.
But he vowed the next time he left the hospital to go home he’d be taking Carolyn with him.
Day dragged into early evening. Each visit to Carolyn’s room brought up another memory. The last two hours he’d talked about Cam, how his normal birth weight didn’t indicate the kid would be such a bruiser. Even at age two he’d been freakishly strong but surprisingly gentle. Especially with Carter.
There were only a little over two years between the last two boys. Five kids kept both of them busy. But their older sons, being typical boys, could care less about a new baby. Yet Cam had been fascinated by Carter and showed zero sibling jealousy. He loved his baby brother. Loved him so much he wanted to take Carter everywhere.
Carson would never forget the day he’d come inside and found Cord watching Petticoat Junction with Colby and Colt and not keeping an eye on his two youngest brothers while Carolyn took a shower. He’d scaled the stairs to see Cam giving four-month-old Carter a ride; he’d wrapped Carter up like a burrito and raced up and down the hallway, dragging the baby behind him.
His wife might’ve fainted on the spot if she’d seen it, even when Carter was perfectly fine, cooing happily. So Carson hadn’t told her about that incident. Or the time when Cam and Colt were playing jungle in the playroom. They’d rigged several sheets between the curtain rods and two light fixtures on the ceiling to create a hammock for Carter. A hammock on a pulley system that lifted two-year-old Carter almost to the ceiling, near the exposed light bulbs and next to the open window.