Not Their First Rodeo

by Christy Jeffries

  “Well, we wouldn’t want all their strategizing to go to waste.” Marcus jerked his chin toward his front door. “Come inside, and I’ll share some of this potato salad with you.”

  Following him into his house would be a huge mistake. They could barely control themselves around each other when there were people right outside his office or the stables or even the bounce house. His place was at least a mile away from anyone accidentally stumbling in on them, offering a false sense of security from the risk of getting caught.

  Which, now that she thought about it, actually made it the perfect place to finally lose control. Nobody would have to know. They could release some of their pent-up sexual tension and maybe get whatever this was out of their systems.

  Violet took one step. Then another. Before she knew it, Marcus had the front door closed behind her, and the bag of food was forgotten on the floor as he pulled her into his arms. Apparently, his thoughts had been on the exact same page as hers, because he angled his mouth over hers and murmured, “Just this once.”

  Violet would’ve nodded earnestly, but he was already kissing her. Holding her face securely in place as his tongue stroked hers, encouraging her lips to open wider to accommodate him. She allowed her hands the opportunity to finally explore the bare skin of his chest and then his wide shoulders. She’d been aching to trace the ridges of his defined muscles and feel the silky dark blond hair under her fingertips, but it wasn’t enough. If his body felt this good against her palms, it would feel even better against all of her.

  Without breaking the kiss, she tore off her coat and went to work yanking her top higher. In her haste, one arm got stuck in her sleeve, and Marcus pulled away long enough to help her get first her sweater and then her camisole over her head. When she was standing in front of him in just her bra and her jeans, he stared appreciatively at her breasts before lifting his eyes back to hers.

  “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice low and raspy.

  She nodded before unclasping her bra. “But we can’t let anybody find out.”

  His only response was to reach behind her and flip the dead bolt into the locked position. She pulled his mouth down to hers again and sighed as her aching nipples finally pressed against the hard planes of his chest. Marcus lifted her in his arms, and she wrapped her legs around his waist as he carried her through the entryway and toward what must have been the formal living room. She caught a glimpse of them in the mirror hanging over the fireplace mantel, both of them still wearing their jeans.

  As he lowered her onto an oversize sectional, Violet’s fingers wrestled with the button on her waistband and then her zipper. She couldn’t get her pants over her hips soon enough. Marcus was undoing his fly just as eagerly but then paused. “It’s been a while since I’ve done this. The lab results from my last physical were clear, but I don’t have any protection.”

  They were both older and wiser this time around and knew better than to leave birth control to chance. She relaxed against the sofa cushions and said, “I’ve had my IUD for a few years, and I got screened when I saw my doctor in Dallas earlier this week. Just in case...”

  “Just in case you couldn’t keep your hands off me?” Marcus asked playfully as he finally shoved his own jeans lower. His arousal sprang forward, and Violet slid her palms down his rib cage and then to his narrow hips, pulling him closer.

  “It’s not my hands you need to worry about,” she said breathlessly as he settled himself between her thighs.

  “I know. It’s that wonderful mouth of yours.” He claimed her lips in another kiss as he entered her.

  Violet shuddered at the familiar sensation of Marcus filling her. It had been fourteen long years since they’d done this together, but it felt as normal to her as breathing. He pulled back slightly, and she drew her knees up on either side of him, causing his next thrust to go even deeper.

  Marcus groaned before setting a tentative pace. But Violet didn’t want to go slowly. This ache, this coil of unsatisfied need, had been building inside of her ever since she’d seen him again. Now that her release was finally within her grasp, she wanted to race to it.

  Clinging to his shoulders, she rocked her hips in a faster tempo. His breath quickened while hers came out in short pants. His arms slid under her waist, pulling her tighter against him right as she shattered through the finish line.

  * * *

  “You know, I can’t ever remember a time when we actually took our time making love,” Marcus told Violet as he lit a fire in the fireplace. He’d been so incredibly spent in her embrace that he’d remained there for nearly fifteen minutes before realizing that if they stayed like that any longer, they might catch a cold. “When we were younger, there was always such a rush because we were afraid of getting caught.”

  “I’m still afraid of getting caught.” Violet pulled a decorative throw blanket over herself. “The last couple of times we started anything, someone in your family walked in and nearly busted us.”

  Marcus never bothered to use this room since it was supposed to be for formal occasions. Suddenly, though, he couldn’t imagine a more formal occasion than having Violet back in his arms. And she looked so beautiful lounging there in her afterglow, he had no intention of carrying her back to his rather informal bedroom.

  “Well, I can assure you that the twins won’t bust us tonight. Once they fall asleep, they’re out cold until the morning.” The fire blazed to life behind him, instantly warming his bare backside as he turned toward her. “So we’ve got at least a few hours to slow things down for round three.”

  “Round three? Did I miss the second round?” Violet stretched, one dusky nipple popping out from under the blanket. Marcus felt himself stirring to attention already.

  “No,” he said before rejoining her on the sofa and pulling her onto his lap. “That round is starting right now. Then we can refuel with some dinner before we take our time.”

  Violet laughed throatily as she hooked one leg around his hip and lifted herself astride him. It wasn’t until midnight that they finally dragged themselves to the kitchen to reheat the food they’d abandoned by the front door. Along with most of Violet’s clothes.

  “You’re right,” Violet said as she stood in front of his open fridge. “This thing is so well stocked, I can’t even find room for these leftover containers. And it’s not even premade meals in here.”

  “I’m actually a pretty decent cook, you know.”

  “Since when?” Violet arched a brow.

  “Since always.” He grabbed their heated plates from the microwave and carried them to the living room. Violet followed with two glasses of wine.

  “You never cooked for me,” she said as they settled under the blanket in front of the fire.

  “Because we usually only saw each other when we were on vacations with our parents,” Marcus reminded her. “There were always restaurants or private chefs around.”

  “You didn’t have a private chef here on the Twin Kings?”

  “We have a cook for the ranch hands at the bunkhouse. But my dad never liked anyone but family in our kitchen. His grandma ran a moonshine operation out of Big Millie’s Saloon during Prohibition and was extremely suspicious of strangers snooping around what she referred to as her recipes. She instituted this rule that only people with the King last name were allowed to cook in the family kitchen.”

  “But there were caterers at the funeral,” Violet said, oblivious to the smear of barbecue sauce on her chin. “I know because I caught a ride with one to my hotel in Jackson Hole.”

  “Yeah, my mom pushed for caterers to be an exception when my dad first started running for office and they had to host occasional parties on the ranch. My dad did a lot of the cooking, but after he became governor, he never really had the time. And nobody wanted to eat what my mom came up with for meals.”

  “So you had to learn to cook for yourself?”
>
  He nodded, swallowing a bite of corn bread. “And my siblings, when my parents were on the campaign trail. But only if we didn’t feel like eating in the bunkhouse. The rule only applies to the main house.”

  “How did I not know that? That’s a pretty big responsibility, Marcus.”

  He shrugged. “I’m the oldest. It comes with the big-brother role.”

  “Is taking care of them still your responsibility?”

  “Logically, no. But old habits die hard.”

  They ate several more bites in silence before Violet paused and faced him. “Even MJ? Other than the time he threw up on the Ferris wheel at the county fair, I don’t ever recall you having to babysit him or hang out with him at all when we were teenagers.”

  A familiar guilt gnawed at Marcus. “He was born when I was fourteen. I remember being mortified to tell my friends that my parents were having another baby because then everyone would know that my mom and dad were still having sex. And eww. Who wanted to admit that to their buddies? MJ was an infant, and I was starting high school. I was busy with homework and playing sports and doing all those leadership camps in summer, seeing you whenever I could get the chance. I rarely took care of him. MJ went wherever my mom went, and she and my dad were traveling a lot more for his campaigns. Us older kids stayed here with Rider, although he and Freckles were already separated by then. I joined the Marines and was gone for four years. When I came home, MJ was spending more time at the governor’s mansion in Cheyenne than here in Twin Kings. After that I had my own family, and he and my folks moved to DC and, well, we just never really bonded.”

  “Do you think his arrest is going to help you in the bonding process?”

  He sighed. “No. Maybe. All I know is that I should’ve been a better big brother to him back then, and I wasn’t. I’m doing what I can now.”

  Violet studied him over the rim of her wineglass. “What if MJ doesn’t want a big brother? The same way you resented having a little brother all those years ago.”

  “I didn’t resent it, exactly.” He thought about MJ bringing up the story about going on the carnival ride alone so Marcus could sit with Violet. The guilt settled in deeper. “I just had other things going on. I’m trying to make it up to him.”

  “Okay, think about it this way.” She tucked her feet under her legs. “The first five Kings were an already-established, tight-knit group before he came along. You and MJ might’ve had the same parents, but you grew up under such different circumstances. He doesn’t have all those shared experiences that bonded you older siblings. In a way, it’s almost as though MJ was inadvertently raised as an only child. When you look at it from his viewpoint, it’s not fair to suddenly insert yourself into a role that existed in name only. Especially not after he lost his father so recently.”

  “I lost my father, too.”

  “Yes. But you had thirty-two years with Roper King. MJ only had eighteen. I remember you when you were that same age, Marcus, and you would’ve been just as lost as your brother is now. You need to give him time and space to deal with things in his own way.”

  This. This is what his mom had meant when she’d said that Marcus needed someone who wouldn’t just listen to him but would tell him the things he needed to hear. He’d been so focused on his own guilt for not being a better big brother to MJ, he hadn’t stopped to think of what it had been like for the teen to feel as though he’d never really fit in with the rest of them.

  Still. That didn’t mean Marcus was going to sit back and let MJ ruin his own life. But maybe Violet was right and he’d been approaching it from the wrong angle this whole time.

  “Hey.” He gave her a quick kiss, then wiped the sauce off her chin. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For making me see things from a different perspective. For challenging me.”

  She took his plate from him and set it beside hers on the coffee table. Then she returned his kiss. “And here I thought you were the challenging one.”

  “I tried to be. But you’ve clearly already worn me down.”

  “I hope you’re not too worn-down. I was promised a round three.”

  Marcus groaned before proving that he was a man of his word.

  They never even made it to the bedroom before dawn slowly crept up on them. The sun shone into the wide windows of the living room, and Violet stirred in his arms, then fell right back to sleep wedged between him and the sofa cushions. After the birthday party yesterday and then all their lovemaking last night, she had to be exhausted. Marcus eased himself from the sectional without waking her and went to the kitchen to start the coffee maker before getting in the shower.

  When she’d shown up at his door yesterday evening, Marcus had told himself that it would just be this one time. But now that they’d spent the night together, there was no way that he would be satisfied. Maybe the twins would want a sleepover at the main house again tonight. No, that wouldn’t work. It was Sunday, which meant they had school tomorrow.

  He’d call and check on them when he got out of the shower, and if his mom insisted on keeping them for the day, then maybe he could convince Violet to stay a little longer.

  But when he came out of the bathroom, Violet was already wide-awake and talking to someone on her phone. Marcus could only hear one side of the conversation, yet that didn’t make him feel like any less of an eavesdropper. Especially since Violet seemed to be on the receiving end of an interrogation.

  “No, Mom, I flew back to Wyoming Friday night after the fundraiser,” Violet said, and Marcus’s blood couldn’t decide if it wanted to run hot or cold.

  “I’ll be staying here until after MJ’s trial.” Then another pause.

  “Of course they have other attorneys in Wyoming. But I’m doing this as a favor to their family, which is the least I can do after you interfered in their oldest son’s life all those years ago. Plus, Sherilee is trying to keep it out of the press, which I know you can relate to, considering you didn’t want anyone knowing what your daughter was doing when she was that same age.” Wow. That was both strong and logical. Good for Violet.

  “Yes, Marcus is here.” At this, he straightened his spine and took a few steps closer to announce his presence. But something held him back.

  “He lives on the Twin Kings, so I see him quite regularly.” Violet’s tone was practically boastful, so maybe she really did want to get her mom all riled up. Another point for Violet.

  “I don’t know if we’re getting back together, but—” There was a heavy sigh, which meant the senator must’ve interrupted her. Marcus held his breath as he waited for Violet to defend him. To defend their relationship.

  Instead, Violet replied, “I know my life is in Dallas, Mom. I have no intention of throwing away my career. Speaking of careers, what time is your speech with the Girls in Technology organization?”

  The subject had changed and that was it. Feeling deflated, Marcus let out the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. Violet had been so close to telling her mother to mind her own business, but then she’d done what she always did with the senator: acknowledge the concerns without denying them and then steer the conversation to a neutral topic. Marcus almost didn’t recognize this version of her, since he hadn’t seen it on display since they were teens. He’d gotten too accustomed to the Violet who’d passionately argued with him about something as inconsequential as a William Shakespeare play or the suitability of pineapple as a topping for pizza.

  Or maybe she wasn’t fighting her mother on the issue because she was in complete agreement with the woman. Either way, Violet clearly planned to return to Texas when MJ’s case was over. Marcus was no longer a naive recruit at boot camp holding on to the hope that they had a future together. They both wanted different things out of life, and that was okay.

  However, there was one thing they’d never really talked about, and he wasn’t
quite ready to let her leave until they had.

  He went to the kitchen to pour them both some coffee, then returned to the living room to find her dressed in her clothes from the night before. He handed her a cup, then sat beside her and tried to keep his voice as bland as possible.

  “Listen. Um, you mentioned something last night. About having an IUD. And I was just wondering...” He swallowed past the apprehension that threatened to cut off his words. He had to know. “Is having kids still a possibility for you? I mean physically?”

  He heard the slight catch in her throat, almost a hiccup sound, and hurried to explain himself. “God, I didn’t mean that to sound so intrusive. It’s just that we’ve discussed what happened with us after the miscarriage, but we never really talked about...you know, the actual thing itself.”

  Violet bit her lower lip, then looked around the empty house, as though to confirm their conversation wasn’t going to be overheard. Or interrupted again. “As far as I know, yes, I can still have kids. But there could be risks, and I don’t know if I could handle going through that again.”

  He slipped his free hand into hers, pulling their joined fingers onto his lap. “Will you tell me what happened?”

  It took her a few seconds, but finally she nodded. “When you left for boot camp, I thought I was only a few weeks along. At my first doctor’s appointment, though, they did an ultrasound and told me I was at eleven weeks. With twins. It’s probably a good thing you didn’t get that initial letter at boot camp because I was already freaking out that this was more than we’d anticipated, and I didn’t want to tell my parents yet. But I didn’t hear back from you, so I started thinking that maybe you were more panicked than me. I sent another letter the following week, trying to sound more upbeat and positive. By that time, I’d convinced myself that we were so blessed and were going to be amazing parents, and I’d even started thinking about decorating a nursery in some imagined home we didn’t even have yet. But still no response from you.”