Rodeo King (Dustin Lovers Book 1)

by Chaffin, Char

  “So good—so tight—Jesus, Rosie,” he groaned as their lips parted. His hair hung in damp disarray around his lean, tanned face; under her hands his muscles bunched and released as he drove her higher still.

  Tension ramped her body into a fierce arch that made her grip him hard enough to choke off his air supply. In answer, Caleb caught the curve of her neck between his teeth and bit down as his hands jerked her hips tighter against his driving thrusts.

  She broke, shattering in a convulsive orgasm, muffling her scream in his shoulder. Clinging frantically, she rode out her climax as Caleb pinned her to the mattress and shuddered through his own release. His chest heaved as he fought for breath; his hands had found hers and their fingers twined together as if they both needed an anchor in a storm that seemed to go on and on.

  So much like what they’d had between them years earlier. And she couldn’t have stemmed the overflowing tears that dampened the hair at her temples. She didn’t even try; she let them fall while her heart finally calmed and her muscles relaxed, her body going limp beneath his.

  Seconds later, she felt Caleb slump in her arms, sated; another memory she’d missed like crazy. How he’d simply melt over her when the last tiny shivers worked through his large frame, and their damp skin fused together amongst tangled sheets. The best feeling in the world, and here they were again. She loved it.

  She loved him.

  As Caleb turned his lips to the curve of her shoulder and kissed the place he’d bitten, she realized it was pointless to fight the inevitable. He was her son’s daddy. The connection between them hadn’t lessened at all over the years, and it didn’t seem to matter what he might have done while on the rodeo circuit or how many women he’d probably slept with.

  What mattered was now, this minute, and what they built together as a result. Even as she admitted it to herself, Rosemary had a feeling the toughest, at least for her, would be reestablishing trust. But she was willing to try. She slipped her hands from his loosened grip and twined her arms around his neck, holding him close, and let herself drift.

  Emitting a soft protest as he moved away slightly, she quieted when he murmured, “Be right back.” A soft rustle of the sheets reminded her Caleb needed to dispose of the protection he’d used.

  He returned quickly, gathering her into his arms. With a sigh, Rosemary fell into a light doze.

  Later—it might have been minutes or hours—Caleb roused her by scattering heated kisses over her breasts. Then he murmured, “I want to stay the night,” against one puckered nipple.

  Rosemary turned her head on the pillow as he moved his mouth to hers and nipped briefly, before facing her with sleepy eyes and cheeks already shadowed with dark blond stubble.

  So sexy; so very male. Caleb Johnson, in a nutshell. And he’s all mine. At least for the moment. Still, she tried it out in a whisper, her lips touching his. “Mine.”

  “Yeah, I am.” He deepened the kiss, his tongue stroking hers. The moment spun out in the warm, quiet room, the give and take of their mouths echoing in the resurgence of passion that had him hardening against her belly.

  She arched, mindless with desire. “Caleb. Yes.”

  “Yes, I can stay?”

  His attempt at lighthearted banter didn’t fool her one bit, because she could all but taste the need pouring from him as he slipped a hand beneath her and held her tightly.

  In the midst of overwhelming emotion, it seemed cold and mechanical to ask the obvious question, but she regained enough of her common sense to whisper, “Do you have more . . .” She couldn’t finish, burying her heated face in his neck.

  His shoulders shook beneath her cheek. He was laughing at her! She wanted to slug him, but his body felt so good, she couldn’t bring herself to pull away.

  “Baby, I’ve got plenty of, um, opportunities to rock your world,” Caleb assured her solemnly, then slid against her suggestively.

  She shivered, moaned, shivered again, before reaching for his cock and palming it firmly. “Then I guess you’d better get that endless supply, cowboy . . . and stay.” Her breath snagged on a moan as his flesh seemed to leap and pulse in her hand. “God, Caleb.” She coiled herself around him. “Don’t go, never go . . .”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” He covered her lips with a hard, wild kiss.

  ***

  “Mommy. Daddy. I’m hungry.” The childish voice piped up close to his ear, accompanied by a cough and a sneeze. Caleb stirred reluctantly, disoriented for a few moments.

  Daylight flooded the room. Rosemary’s bedroom. In a flash it all came back to him; the loving they’d shared, interspersed with an hour here and there of exhausted sleep. Only to awaken in each other’s arms and do it all over again.

  Then he remembered how he’d ended up here in the first place. Carson was doing much better but still not completely out of the woods from the pneumonia he’d suffered.

  Caleb eased his arm from under Rosemary’s sleeping form. She muttered softly and curled herself around her pillow as he sat up in bed and beckoned to his son. “Morning, buddy. Hungry, huh? I can fix that.” Belatedly he glanced down to assure the sheet covered his naked ass. Whew, safe.

  “How?” Carson crawled onto the bed and settled into Caleb’s arms. His soft red hair was tangled, wayward ends sticking up all over. With his cheeks rosy from sleep, bright eyed and eager for the day to begin, he looked like an adorable, slightly mischievous cherub.

  Caleb snatched him close and mock-growled into his sweet-smelling neck, eliciting a torrent of giggles as Carson squirmed away from the beard stubble Caleb tickled him with. “I happen to be the world-famous blueberry pancake king.”

  “Nuh-uh! Guys don’t make pancakes. Girls do!” Carson curled his little fingers into claws and went right for Caleb’s armpits in retaliation.

  “Uh-huh. Guys make the best pancakes, just wait and see.” Though he’d never been ticklish in his life, Caleb emitted loud, chortling sounds as his son dug in with gusto. “If I promise to cook up some amazing pancakes, will you stop tickling me and help me make your mommy breakfast in bed?”

  “You bet!” Carson jumped to the floor and grabbed for Caleb’s hand. “Hurry! Before Mommy wakes up.”

  “I have to get dressed first, champ. Okay? And do some stuff in the bathroom. Meet me in the kitchen.” Caleb bent close to his son’s ear and whispered, “We’ll start on ‘Operation Pancake,’ post-haste.” He cracked a grin as Carson whooped and ran for the door. His bare feet slapped along the hallway and stomped down the stairs. The sound brought a lump of emotion to Caleb’s throat that he fought to swallow down.

  I want to wake up like this for the rest of my life.

  Rubbing at suddenly stinging eyes, he smoothed the sheet away, then jerked in surprise as a warm, slender hand stroked over his arm. Turning, Caleb brought Rosemary close as she wriggled to his side of the bed and climbed into his lap, the same as Carson had done.

  “So, surprise pancakes? Really?” She nuzzled his cheek, before closing her mouth over his in a delicious kiss.

  They shared nibbles and soft, morning caresses, as more sunlight poured into the room and the sound of little-boy feet clomping down the hall reminded them they weren’t alone upstairs. Everything felt right in the world, and he couldn’t remember when he’d been so happy.

  Caleb eased away first, with a lingering kiss to one sweetly puckered breast. “My pancakes will make your tummy weep.”

  “For joy? Or with heartburn?” she retorted cheekily.

  He gave her bare bottom a cuff. “Let me up, smartass, and you’ll see.”

  ***

  The kitchen rang with laughter as Caleb and Carson made a shambles of mixing and cooking pancakes. Rosemary had run out of blueberries a week ago, so her son decided nothing but apples would do as a substitute. Worried her boy might actually try talking Caleb into letting him have a paring knife, Rosemary positioned herself on a kitchen chair and kept an eye on both her men. They balked at her interference but were m
ollified when she vowed not to lift a finger.

  Keeping her promise wasn’t easy especially after Carson dropped his third egg on the floor, and the flour canister exploded when Caleb knocked it over. She slapped a hand over her mouth to keep in her protest as well as her chuckles, resigned to spending a good hour cleaning up their mess.

  Twenty sloppy minutes later, they sat down to surprisingly delicious, fluffy pancakes packed with apples and cinnamon. Carson crammed them in as fast as his fork could cut them, and Rosemary sighed at the taste.

  “Yummy. I’m impressed, Caleb. Where’d you learn to make pancakes like this?”

  “It’s the beer,” he replied casually, swallowing a huge bite.

  She almost dropped her juice glass. “You put beer in them? You can’t feed beer pancakes to a five-year-old! What were you thinking?”

  “I’m thinking you’re pretty easy to rile up, Carmichael.” He offered a smug snort. “Not only do you not have beer in your fridge, but you sat there and watched us make them. Did you see a beer bottle anywhere?”

  “Um—” Rosemary felt her cheeks heat and she rubbed at them. As Carson giggled wildly, she mumbled, “Now who’s a smartass?”

  After threatening to tie her to the chair if she tried to help clean up, Caleb settled Carson with a sink full of soapy water and what unbreakable utensils they’d used. As Carson stood on his little stepstool and played at washing the dishes, Caleb scooted a chair close to her and nibbled at her mouth. “Let’s take him to Hawthorn, let him work off some of that energy. We can stop at Sonic and get some corn dogs and onion rings.”

  “You just ate. How can you think of food?” But Rosemary tilted her head to give him better access to her neck, loving the feel of his calloused fingers trailing along her arms.

  “I also just had sex. Well, last night,” he teased softly so Carson wouldn’t hear. “How can I think of getting you naked and under me? I just can, baby.”

  “Shh, jeez!” She slapped a hand over his mouth. “You think he’s not listening but I promise you, little boys hear everything.”

  Caleb kissed her palm. “Let’s spend the day in Hawthorn.”

  The persuasive tone in his sexy voice left Rosemary unable to form a single objection. She didn’t even try. Instead, she slid her hand from his mouth to the back of his neck and pulled him in for a fast, moist bite to his full bottom lip.

  “Okay.”

  Chapter Nine

  It’d been ten years or more since Caleb had hung out at Hawthorn. The park sat about three miles outside of Dustin, a sprawling conglomerate of public swimming pools, several carnival rides including a restored carousel, and a children’s museum that was a kid’s dream.

  He could remember taking Rosemary here once, during the few daylight hours when they had actually climbed out of bed for something other than sex. Even then, he’d found ways to ambush her with caresses and kisses. Behind the main cabana at the adult pool. Under the bleachers on the softball field while the Dustin Lil’ Wranglers played their hearts out. Up against one of the mammoth cottonwoods scattered through the park, his lips devouring that sweet spot between her neck and her shoulder, bared by the cute little sundress she’d worn. He’d had her hands pinned to the rough bark over her head, one of her long, shapely legs wound around his waist, when a park official strolled by and busted them.

  “You okay, Daddy? You kinda made a noise.” Carson’s sweet chirp dragged Caleb out of the sexual fog of memories and the groan he’d released under his breath.

  He looked over at Rosemary’s cut-that-out expression and then into his son’s concerned face. “Just hungry, buddy. It’s been so long since our pancakes, right?”

  “It’s been two whole hours,” Rosemary inserted dryly.

  “Yeah, but you know pancakes. Two hours later and you’re starving.”

  She snickered. “That’s Chinese food, not pancakes.”

  “Same difference.” Sweeping up his giggling son in one arm, Caleb tugged Rosemary forward with his free hand. “Come on, let’s hit the merry-go-round before we eat so we won’t get pukey.”

  “I want the camel! I want the camel!” Carson bounced madly, his fingers twisted into Caleb’s shirt collar. “Daddy, the camel, okay?”

  “You got it, son. As long as nobody else is riding on it.”

  A light breeze ruffled the edges of Rosemary’s long, loose curls as she walked beside him. She wore faded Levi’s that clung to every luscious curve and a thin cotton blouse with no sleeves, the unbuttoned ends tied beneath her perfect breasts. Each time he eyed that expanse of creamy pale midriff she’d left bare, Caleb broke out in a sweat. A pair of dusty, beat-up red leather Dingos with squared off toes peeked from the frayed hem of her jeans. He vaguely remembered them from years ago and couldn’t believe she’d kept them all this time. Without a speck of lipstick or anything else on her face, she looked no more than sixteen.

  Then she glanced sideways and gave him a smile, lips parted slightly and showing a flash of straight, white teeth.

  Unable to look away from her beauty, every muscle in his body tightened and clenched with need. This woman. Only Rosemary. There’d never be anyone else for him.

  When Carson wriggled to get down, then tugged on his hand, Caleb blinked and shook his head. His cheeks heated like a teenager, and from just a single smoldering glance from the fiery redhead standing so close to him.

  He broke the contact between them, squatting next to his son whose excitement had him bouncing in his scuffed hi-top sneakers. “You got a bee up your butt, partner?” he teased gently.

  Carson waved his arms in a childish frenzy. “Daddy, the camel!” He squirmed impatiently.

  The music from a piping calliope floated on the air, and Caleb turned toward the familiar tune. There sat the carousel, an antique marvel of what modern restoration could accomplish. When Caleb was a kid, the carousel worked but its colors had been faded, with the tips of equine ears broken off and paint missing from saddles and muzzles. Somebody had spent a shitload of money to bring the ride to its former glory. It now sparkled in the sun, packed with joyous children riding their favorite animals with happy abandon, while their parents waved and snapped pictures.

  “Can we go? Please?” Carson tugged at both their hands.

  Rosemary’s laughter floated across the air as she allowed Carson to drag her forward, while Caleb pretended to protest and lag behind. More determined than ever, their son pulled harder until they all stood at the chainlink fence circling the carousel. He would have bolted through the gate if Rosemary hadn’t grabbed the back of his shirt.

  “Carson, calm down. We have to buy tickets, then wait our turn.” She knelt and traced a gentle finger along his pouting lower lip. “That camel isn’t going anywhere, honey. You and Daddy get the tickets, and I’ll hold your place in line.” She lifted his chin. “Okay?”

  “Okay,” he mumbled, then gave her a hopeful look. “Can I ride as much as I want?”

  Caleb couldn’t contain his snort of laughter. “What an operator.” He ruffled his son’s soft curls. “Come on, let’s go buy some tickets. Maybe a roll of them.” His promised got Carson squealing ecstatically and jumping up and down.

  As Caleb grinned at his son’s antics, Rosemary leaned over and gave him a lingering kiss, a fast, hot flick of her tongue, and a parting shot.

  “Sucker.”

  ***

  Waiting in line at the carousel, Rosemary pressed a hand to her fluttering stomach. The kiss she’d given Caleb had been meant as a silly tease, but even a touch of that mouth on hers made her center clutch. She sucked in a steadying breath just as a hand tapped her shoulder.

  “Hey, Rosie! How’ve you been?” Miranda Benson, nicknamed ‘Mimi’ since childhood, stood behind her in line, three giggling boys holding onto the conch belt cinching her narrow cowgirl hips.

  Mimi had made the women’s rodeo circuit in Dustin and Cheyenne during her teen years, whittling the baby fat from her body like only an extreme workou
t of riding and roping could do. Younger by two years, Mimi’s sister Dwana had followed in her footsteps, taking it even further and becoming a professional roper on the circuit. Mimi had dropped out to marry, and her husband Frank moved the family to Cheyenne last year.

  Rosemary had lost touch with both Mimi and Dwana, catching up only here and there when Mimi and the boys came to town.

  She gave Mimi a quick hug. “Hi, Mimi. I’ve been good. You?”

  “Been good. Busy.” She blew honey blonde curls off her forehead.

  “Where’s Frank?” Rosemary hadn’t seen him walk up.

  “Trucking as usual.” Mimi rolled her eyes. “Big load to Montana. He’ll be back tomorrow.” Her smile held the weariness as well as the fortitude of a long-haul trucker’s wife.

  Rosemary stood back and grinned at the trio of chubby-cheeked faces peering at her. “I can’t believe how big your boys have grown.” She opened her arms to collect the adorable herd, identical triplets with their mother’s sky-blue eyes and their dad’s black hair. As the boys huddled close in a wriggling snuggle, she glanced up at Mimi. “Are you here for the day?”

  “Yep. There’s nothing like this in Cheyenne, damn it all. And we promised the boys.” Mimi tousled two heads and snickered at their indignant groans. “Little buggers are starved as usual. But they begged to ride first, then we’re going to Sonic.” She looked around curiously. “Where’s that cutie of yours? Are you here all day, too?”

  “Well, I—” Rosemary didn’t get any farther, because Mimi’s jaw unhinged in a gape. Tensing, Rosemary looked over her shoulder as Caleb and Carson strolled along the carousel boundary, hand in hand.