“Fuck me. Make me come so hard I pass out from the sheer bliss of having your c**k pounding into me.”
“That I can do.”
And he did.
He sent her over the edge twice—multiple orgasms for her was another benefit of pregnancy—and he roared like a beast when his balls finally released his seed.
Carolyn bore down with her cunt muscles, milking him so hard he swore he came twice in a row. Sweat coated his body. Her breath drifting across his skin as she spiraled down from her orgasm sent a shudder through him.
She sought his mouth, shifting their position so he was on his back with her laying half on top of him. She whispered, “I love you,” against his lips and peppered kisses from his chin, up his jaw to his temple. “I am so lucky.”
He snorted. “Because I f**ked you like an animal?”
“No.”
When she didn’t elaborate, he said, “You goin’ someplace with this? ’Cause woman, I don’t think my brain is firin’ on all cylinders.”
“I’m lucky because you are mine.” She bit his earlobe. “Everything about you is just…mmm. This long sweep of your neck? Drives me crazy. It’s warm and strong. Yet when I do this?” Carolyn sucked on the section of skin where his pulse pounded closest to the surface and he groaned. “I can make my big tough cowboy go weak in the knees.”
“You love that power,” he murmured.
“I love that I can spend just as much time worshipping your chest with my hands and mouth as you do worshipping mine.”
Then she proved it. Mapping the cut of his muscles with her tongue. Licking and sucking. Doing that nuzzle and bite thing on his pectorals and his ni**les that could make him shoot all over his belly.
“I love that this hard body of yours is mine to play with whenever I want. Other women still look at you and want you. I can’t help but feel a little smug that these muscle-bound arms are around me every night.” She feathered her thumb over his lips. “That this sinful, playful, skillful mouth knows every inch of my body.”
“That’s definitely…mmm for me.”
Carolyn locked her gaze to his. “Nothing in my sheltered life prepared me for what it means to love Carson McKay, the gorgeous blue-eyed cowboy, third generation Wyoming rancher, hell-raiser of the first order. But nothing in my sheltered life prepared me either for the way you look at me, for the way you love me. With everything you have, with everything you are. I can’t believe with all the women you could’ve had who understand this ranch stuff, you picked me to build a life with.” She pressed her cheek against his heart. “I’m grateful for you, for this life and sometimes I forget to tell you that.”
This sweet, wonderful woman gave him so much and got so little in return. “I’m getting the better end of the deal, trust me.”
They stayed entwined together.
“You must’ve worn Cord out,” she said. “He never naps this long.”
“He acted a little scared when me’n Dad had words.”
“Wasn’t the first time, won’t be the last.”
He stroked the curve of her hip. “So you sayin’ Cord had better get used to it?”
“You tell me. Our son is the first born of the fourth generation of McKays. If he chooses to stay in the family business, he’ll have the same types of things weighing on him that you do with your father.”
“I can promise I’ll never be like my dad was to me to our kids. Never.”
Carson shifted in the hospital chair.
That hadn’t been a promise he’d been able to keep. As much as he’d hoped things would improve with his father and the ranch over the next couple years, the situation deteriorated even more.
Chapter Twenty
Hospital, Day 3—morning
Carson stared out the window.
Again.
He’d done solitary work a good part of his life. Normally he had no problem spending time alone. But he was really sick and f**king tired of his own company.
You’ve done this to yourself, even if it’s for Carolyn’s benefit.
His kids were sticking together as far as he could tell. None of them had called. None had stopped by.
They’d all rallied around their mother during his surgery a few months back.
But Caro didn’t bar them from contact with you. Not even after you coded on the table for two minutes.
But it wasn’t the same.
The nurses left him alone—not that he expected them to entertain him. He’d never been much of a TV watcher, and having the boob tube on, even low volume, grated on his nerves. But he was so…bored he’d turned the damn thing on just for the company.
“Uncle Carson?”
He turned to see his nephew Quinn struggling with three bags. He crossed the small space. “Here, lemme help you.”
“Thanks. The nurses already checked them.”
Carson peered inside. The two heavy canvas bags contained stacks of magazines and the third bag food.
“Libby raided the retired periodical stacks at the public library, lookin’ for men’s magazines. But don’t be hopin’ for Playboy,” he said dryly.
“I’m afraid I was the blush and stammer type if I ever came across those, even in my youth.”
“Me too.”
“Tell Libby thanks. The distraction will be good. Not a helluva lot to do in here.”
“Ma made you a couple of sandwiches and other stuff. To ‘tide you over’, she said.”