“Maddie?” Addie sat out on the front steps of the Boston Library, phone to her ear, her heavy hoodie pulled up, letting a big column hide her from the rising sun, from people walking by. They were mostly joggers, this early, but the first of the blue-collar workers were heading into the city and soon the business people would be click-clacking by—all of them dressed in black or gray or navy blue, the women in pumps, the men in shiny duck-tailed shoes. It was bitter cold—too cold for October, it seemed like. She’d been in Massachusetts with Jim for a little over a year and it just…wasn’t home.
It wasn’t what she’d wanted when she’d left her position at the paper, given up her slot as photojournalist for the Morning News, walked away from Afghanistan and bombs and dying babies and Marines with blown-off legs and arms. She’d wanted home and peace and quiet and…Texas. Not here. Not this cold, huge city on the harbor.
Hell, she’d wanted to move back to Hughes Springs, but Jim had found himself a good job at a firm in Boston, had been willing to give up his contract in the Middle East for her, and they’d been together for long enough that she’d felt honor-bound to give the city a chance. Give them a chance. She was beginning to think she was an idiot.
“Sister? Addie? What’s wrong? I know something’s wrong.” Of course Maddie knew. She always knew when something was up. Addie’s twin sister had texted twelve times in two hours, which was crazy. Maddie wasn’t a night owl at all, and it was what? Six-thirty here? So five-thirty at home? That meant Maddie had been texting since damn near three, and she’d have to be up in an hour to feed and work the horses. Addie guessed she was lucky Maddie was home at all. Rodeo finals would be starting soon, and her twin would be on the road a lot. Maddie’d had a damn good year on the barrels—she’d be looking for the big purse in Vegas.
“I-I don’t know what to do.” Addie swallowed hard, hand on her cheek to stave off the brisk autumn winds.
“What did that slimy motherfucker do? I swear to God, I’m going to get Daddy Chris, and I’ll be on a plane in an hour.”
“No!” She sat up, shook her head. “No, Maddie. Please. I just… I thought I was pregnant. I’m not. I wasn’t ever, but Jim saw the pregnancy test and freaked out. Called me a slut, threw me out. Accused me of cheating on him.” Put all her shit on the stoop.
She was never, ever living anywhere that had a stoop again.
“Did he hurt you?”
“I don’t know what to do,” she repeated.
“Oh, fuck a duck sideways. That smarmy little pussy-shoe-wearing fucktard hit you.” Maddie’s voice was like cold steel. Icy. Hard.
“He had a vasectomy. He never said. I just… The rubber broke and I was worried.”
“You’ll start tomorrow. I started today.” Addie was always—always—a day behind. Dad said it was because Maddie was born at eleven-forty-nine on a Friday and she came at twelve-oh-three on a Saturday. The only twins on earth with two dads, different birthdays, and a surrogate mom. “Wait, he didn’t tell you he was fixed?”
“Christ, Addie, y’all are engaged!”
“Were.” The finger where he’d ripped the ring off was swollen, bruised, and she was scared it might be broken.
“Where are you?”
“Steps of the library.”
“In Boston?” Maddie still thought Boston was the biggest, most violent city on earth and couldn’t be convinced that it had its lovely spots. It just wasn’t small town Texas.
“No, Mads, in Bora Bora.”
“They have libraries there?”
They laughed together, sharing the moment. It faded, though, just like the night was fading. “Do you think…? I mean, my car has all the things he let me take.”
“Come home. It’s fall. It’s pretty. I’m fixin’ to be on the road for the push to finals and the dads could use company.” She could see Maddie’s smile in her mind’s eye, tired and fond and knowing. “I have two empty rooms here in my place.”
Daddy Chris had put a modular home on Bill Parker’s plot of land when the man passed, telling Maddie his girls needed a place to be, to stay.
“You sure you want a roommate?”
“Shit, sister, you’re not a roommate. I’ll expect you Thursday?”
Addie nodded. “Maybe Friday. I’m tired. I’ll wait until after rush hour, drive for a few hours and get some sleep.”
“Okay. I’ll tell the dads you’re coming and not to call.”
“Don’t tell them.”
“I won’t. I won’t have to.” Maddie sighed. “At least you weren’t married, huh? I mean, shit, this sucks, but there won’t need to be a lawyer or nothing.”
She nodded, but she was going to start crying again if she spoke. Maddie was right, she guessed. At least there wasn’t a marriage.
Just a screaming match, a slap, one broken finger and most of her shit in the back of a Dodge Charger.
She stood up, wiped her eyes and headed down the steps. Coffee first, then Texas.
* * * *
Addie sat, swinging her legs on the bar stool in the most amazing dive bar she’d visited in all her travels. It was also what passed for the only club in town. Good thing this town was her hometown. With old pleather stools, flickering neon beer signs and a black and white checkered dance floor the size of a postage stamp, it was perfect.
Almost as perfect as Mr. Unlucky sitting three stools down.
Her phone beeped, and the evil ex Jim’s name popped up. Addie rolled her eyes and hit ‘Reject call’. God, it had been damn near six months since she’d left Boston. You’d think the nutty fucker would lose her number. She wasn’t interested in a single thing the asshat had to say.
He could be happy and cold in fucking Massachusetts.
She turned her attention back to Mr. Hot, Stoic and Drinking. He was in here every Wednesday night, just like clockwork. Maddie had informed her Wednesday was when the cowboy wandered into town, did his feed store shopping and his weekly beer run, then stopped to have two longnecks at the bar before heading back to his twelve-hundred-acre ranch to work some of the finest Beefmaster cattle in Morris county.
Did knowing all that make her obsessed?
Nah. Hell, she was a photographer and investigative reporter still, right? In the time she’d been back in town, she’d found out everything any girl could want to know about what Bodie Reaver had been doing since she’d left—that he would be thirty-two in January and was as yet unmarried, and that he had become something of a local legend.
The poor guy had lost two fiancées in the last twelve years. The first one had died in some kind of car accident back when she was at the end of high school, and the other had succumbed to cancer some three years ago. The rumors swirled around him like smoke—he was a black widower, a witch, cursed, or was just the unluckiest guy on earth.
She didn’t believe any of the above, and even if she did, Addie thought Bodie was hot as hell. She was also bored to tears hiding out at her sister’s house in this tiny East Texas town and looking for something to do while she took pictures, lived off her savings, and helped exercise horses. Why not do him? She stood and sidled over to his stool.
“Did you know frowning that deep will give you wrinkles?”
Bodie started a little, then turned to glance behind him before looking back at her and raising one almost-black brow. “You talkin’ to me, honey?”
“I most definitely am.” He was long and lean, with leather-tanned skin and bright blue eyes. Hoo, yeah. She was so talking to him.
His frown shifted into a smile, which gave him even better lines. “Well, then, I got to tell you, no one has cared about my lines in years.” Those pretty blue eyes were checking her out, though, making her blood pump faster.
“Too bad. That sounds like an incredible waste of one hell of a mouth.” Why pretend to be shy? Addie knew being the retiring type was not one of her failings, so to force it now would be silly.
The smile lines got deeper, the expression reaching his eyes. Gracious. That was lethal.
“Thank you, ma’am. Whatcha drinkin’?”
“Shiner,” she said, and winked. “I’m back in Texas. Might as well have the good beer.”
From Guatemala to Ghana, Moscow to Mozambique, she’d been and done it all. Now she wanted home and spring and bluebonnets and hot cowboys in her bed.
“Cool. Another Shiner for the lady, Carl.”
Carl, a skinny old cowboy with a three-inch lift in his left boot, nodded, staring at her with wide eyes. Evidently, he expected her to drop dead on the spot from talking to Bodie. When she didn’t, he grinned, the expression pure shit-dipped evil. “Lord, that ain’t no lady. That’s Chris and Brandt’s youngest girl, Addison.”
Oh, she hated to be called by that name. She rolled her eyes, rubbed the bridge of her nose with her middle finger, then turned back to Bodie.
“Addie. Thanks for the beer, cowboy.” She let herself look, obvious and slow, admiring all the way along.
“Not a problem. Have a sit.” He motioned at the stool next to him, and she wasted no time plopping down.
“So, tell me something odd about yourself. Something I couldn’t guess,” she said.
“I like cotton candy.” He grinned again before taking a swallow of his beer, his tan throat working in an addictive way. “What about you?”
“I’m a wildcat in bed.” She winked, flirting outrageously. “Oh, wait. That’s not something you couldn’t guess, right?”
He laughed out loud when Carl choked behind the bar, sputtering hard. “I could figure that, yeah.”
Addie grinned. “Excellent powers of observation. Spectacular.”
“Well, I try, honey. It’s been a while since anyone was so honest about it, I reckon.”
“Honesty is the best policy.” She waited for a heartbeat. “Like for instance, I think you’re incredibly hot. Are you as good with your hands as you seem?”
He didn’t even blink. “I’m pretty handy. In fact, I make my living with them.”
“Yeah? I’m a photographer. What do you do?” She knew the answer, of course, but a man sure liked to be asked. Stroking wasn’t only for below the buckle. Everyone knew Running Water Ranch, because having a profitable outfit made a man small town famous. Hell, her dads sold hay to him.
“Ranching. Cattle and horses. Had goats for a bit, but they were too smart.” He winked. “Always climbing and getting out of fences.”
“I grew up on a ranch. Live on one now, as a matter of fact. What’s your position on dancing?”
“I rub belt buckles pretty well. Two-step. Waltz. I ain’t so good at the modern flail.”
God, he was adorable. Unflappable. Edible.
Addie couldn’t help her grin. “The modern flail. I like that.”
There was a fine line between slut and eager—hopefully she was still straddling it.
“Well, that’s what I look like when I try it.” Laughing, he flapped his hands like wings. “You want to try me out before buying in, we can throw a dollar in the jukebox, play some George Strait.”
“Oh, cowboy, I can totally try you out.” She dug a dollar out of her purse. “It’s so much nicer than just starting out with nice boots, wanna fuck?”
He took her hand and walked them across the dance floor to the jukebox, which still gave you three songs for a dollar. “Sure it is. You haven’t seen my boots yet, you know? What if they’re nasty?”
“Exactly. You’ll note I didn’t start out there.”
“And you. I mean, you got pretty painted toes, but how do I know how well you keep up your boots?”
All My Exes Live in Texas started up, and Bodie pulled her on the dance floor.
“Absolutely. You never know with a girl. I might just have pink Ropers.” Which, okay, she owned a pair, for the winter. They made Daddy Chris smile.
“I like those on a girl.” Bodie swung her into a two-step, and he’d been absolutely right. He was pretty good. So was she, and found herself smiling wider as he moved her. So what if he was the most unlucky man on Earth? No one who danced like this was clumsy in bed.
That was lucky, right?
He hummed a little, and when the song changed to a waltz, he shifted right into it.
Oh, hello nurse.
Really, hello nicely packed blue jeans, and obviously he liked her. She could tell. Like, physically. That was perfect. He tripped her triggers. She let herself press close, all the way down.
He drew in a sharp breath, his rhythm breaking a bit. He opened his mouth just about the time the sound of rain on the old tin roof reached them. Bodie laughed. “Raining out there. How do you feel about muddin’?”
“I love it. I have a ponytail holder and a pair of tennies in my car. Wanna?”
“Hell, yes.” He slid his hand down her arm and tugged her outside, the rain pattering down on them, cool and good.
She hooted and headed for her big red Charger, grabbing her shoes and purse from the back, making sure her camera bag was well hidden under her hoodie.
His truck was big, high, and already mud-splattered. It was perfect. She put her hair up and slipped on her shoes, looking up to find him watching her.
“You ready to play, cowboy?”
God love white tank tops. They always made the boys stare, and this time she wanted him to see it all.
Bodie cleared his throat. “Yes, ma’am. I know just the place.”
She swung up into his truck. “Let’s go, stud. I’m ready.”
She’d just text her dads on the way to let them know she might be home late.
Or not at all.
* * * *
Bodie glanced sideways at the lady sitting next to him on the bench seat of his truck, and he was torn between wondering what the hell a damned pretty girl like that was doing there, and being grateful she was. That and being grateful that he’d brought his older truck with the bench seat.
Tiny, curvy and pale, with huge blue eyes and a mass of red hair the likes he’d never seen, she made his mouth water. She wore a pair of painted-on jeans and a white tank top that was plastered to her curves. Her hair was up in a ponytail now, but when she’d plopped down next to him in the bar, it had been wild and loose.
She did it for him in the biggest way.
One of her hands slid over, curled around his thigh, testing his muscles. Forward girl.
He liked it. God knew he’d never met anyone like her. He cranked the radio up and turned off on the road that led to his back forty. He had a separate gate out there and no cattle running on that piece until the wind changed.
Time to tear it up.
She was fearless, too, clapping and hooting, bouncing on the seat. “Let’s go, cowboy! Show me what you can do!”
“I got this.” He winked at her sideways, then tore off into the pasture, sending mud flying.
They spun out around the pond, covering the windshield with mud, and she applauded. “Nicely done!”
“Thank you.” He laughed out loud for pure joy when they topped the rise and flew for a moment.
They landed in a rush of grass and goo and water, the skies opening up around them like God had turned a big old spigot.
“Better head for high ground, honey.” He went for the nearest hill, not willing to be in a ditch and get swept away when the flash floods began.
“Look at that come down.” She leaned up to stare out the windshield, totally unafraid.
“Yeah. I bet it feels good.” Bodie threw it into park before taking his hat off and hopping out into the storm.
She followed him, the rain driving against her as she danced in the headlights. Her little white tank clung to her body, and he could see she wore a lacy pink bra.
Her nipples were hard, her belly button ring dangled—she just blew his mind. She even had a sweet little belt buckle riding deep on her low-rider jeans. Looked like a high-school rodeo prize, maybe.
God help him, Bodie thought he might be in love. His feet moved, taking him right over to her, so he could put his hands on her hips. She was laughing as she lifted her face to him, begging for a kiss as she wrapped her hands around his shoulders.
Tilting his head as if he still had his hat on was habit, but pressing his mouth to hers was nothing ordinary or boring. She tasted like beer and lip-gloss, and he pressed into her mouth with his tongue, searching for more.
Her hot little body pressed against his, fitting like she was made for sin. Please God, let that be true. He pulled her up so her breasts rubbed his chest, sliding his hand under her butt to feel the round softness of her ass.
She rocked back into his touch, just as bold as brass and hot as a firecracker. Damn. It was so easy to pull her leg up around his hip and slip between her thighs, pressing her back against the truck.
A happy sound pushed into their kiss as her hips rolled, dragging her all along his cock. Even through the wet layers of cloth, he could feel her, could tell she would be soft and slick and giving. He licked her lower lip, getting her settled but good against the front fender. Addie pushed down against his thigh, rubbing good and hard, going to town on him. She wasn’t a bit shy about taking what she needed, and she was like the storm, wild and addictive. He groaned, his body starting to rock.
He kept kissing, he couldn’t have stopped for love or money, and she was just begging for more, for one after another. Bodie’s heart slammed against his ribs, his legs felt weak, and he was afraid he was going to come in his pants.
Thunder clapped, the lightning hitting close enough that he smelled ozone, and she jumped, cuddled in close into him, shivering a bit.
Shit. Gritting his teeth against the need riding him, Bodie pulled back and picked her up so he could put her in the cab of the truck. “Come on, honey. It’s gettin’ cold. Let’s head back to the house.”
“Tell me that we’re going to get to pick up where we left off when we get there.” Her teeth were chattering.
“Oh, honey.” He cranked up the heat, already mourning the loss of her body against his. “There’s no way I’m giving up a chance at you.”
“Thank God.” She stripped off her wet shirt, just as unashamed as can be, then snuggled into his side.
He put an arm around her, grateful as hell he had an automatic. He drove along the ridge on the way out, circling the long way back to the gate.
The storm raged, and he thanked God for the carport, too, pulling in out of the rain. His ranch house wasn’t much on the outside, even if it was neat and clean, but he knew right now the inside held all they needed—a hot shower, blankets, a bed and snacks.
They stumbled in, dripping on the hardwood, the air conditioner making it feel frigid. He’d be grateful for that later. Right now, it left goosebumps on their skin, and he hauled her to the back bathroom, which had the big shower he’d put in a few years back when he’d started renovations. One day he’d get back on that.
She stepped out of her filthy canvas shoes, then wiggled out of the soaked jeans. Her panties matched her bra—pink and lacy.
Bodie reached for the top scrap of fabric, struggling with the space-age clasp at the front. He got it, though, hooting his triumph as her breasts spilled out, pale and creamy, dusted with the tiniest sprinkle of freckles. The rosy peaks were hard, tight, begging for a touch.
Bodie hummed, his hands doing what came natural. He slid them up, cupped her, then thumbed her nipples. His skin felt so rough compared to hers. Addie arched, pushed right into his fingers, belly rippling as she did, the tiny ring in her navel twinkling. She was so damned perfect she made his mouth dry.
“You too, cowboy. I need to see.”
He struggled for a moment to understand what she was asking. His hands wouldn’t let go of her sweet skin. Then he realized she wanted him naked, and he was all over that. She helped him with his shirt, his belt, those painted nails sliding over his skin as it was exposed. Her happy little noise when she traced his stomach made him chuckle.
“You’re built like a brick shithouse, cowboy.”
His chest swelled with pride. That wasn’t the only thing swelling, either. “And you’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” Bodie touched her everywhere he could reach, from the hollow at the base of her throat to the swell of her breasts, down over her belly to the top of her strawberry curls.
“Let’s get wet and slick together.” She trailed one finger along his cock, his entire fucking body clenching with it.
“You’re gonna make it so I can’t walk, honey. If you want a shower, you be good.” He grinned, trying to steady himself.
“Mmm. Good is absolutely not what you want me to be.”
“No, ma’am. I sure don’t.” Bodie got them moving, got her into the shower with the water streaming down.
She pulled that huge mass of hair out of its barrette, the red curls falling all around her, the scent of peaches sudden and strong. He breathed deep, chuckling a little.
“You’re gonna smell like Old Spice.”
“I can live with that.” Her laughter bounced like the water on the tile. “If we do this right, we’re going to smell like sex.”
That was the kind of thinking he liked. A lot. Made him smile. He kissed her again, just for good measure, his hands sliding down her back. Her tiny, curvy little butt fit in his hands like magic, and her sweet lips opened right up to him.
If he thought too hard about all this, he might just freak out, unlucky as he was with women. So Bodie didn’t think. He went with it.
She pressed close, going up on tiptoe to rock against him, honey-sweet. Her breasts slid over him, and his cock pushed against her belly, the soft skin making him gasp. He walked her into the water, the spray turning her red curls dark and heavy. She laughed out loud, steadying herself with a hand on his chest. Her other hand slid lower. A lot lower.
Oh, damn. Damn. She cupped his balls, weighed them in her hand and rolled a bit. When she lifted them, pressing them up against the base of his cock and pushing everything in a slow circle, he damned near lost it, body going tight to hold it all in.
“Mmm. You like that.”
Was there a fucking man on earth who didn’t? “I do. I’d be crazy not to.”
Little minx just laughed her fine ass off, fingernails teasing the tip of his cock.
Two could play that game. He pushed a hand between her legs, cupping her mound, stroking gently.
“Oh.” Damn. Damn, was there a better sound on earth than a woman wanting? It was so frickin’ hot. He wanted more of those noises, so he slid a finger inside her. She rocked, wet and slippery, and not from the shower. Damn, but that was fine. He wanted inside her, but he had no rubbers in there.
“Mmm. Like how your hands feel, cowboy.” She arched some, lips open, parted.
“I like how your everything feels.” She still held his important bits, and he thought they were warmed up enough. Bedtime.
“Good. I’m clean enough for you?”
“Hell, yes.” He turned off the water and reached for a fuzzy towel.
She wrung the water out of her thick, heavy hair, the mass slapping down on her arm.
“You got the prettiest hair, honey.” Bodie helped her dry it out a little.
“It’s a pain, but I’d cry if I had to cut it.”
She had a little barbed wire infinity symbol inked with the left loop circling her bellybutton, the sparkly bellybutton ring dangling. He grinned, tugging at it, not hard or anything.
“You playing with my jewels, now?” She shimmied, hips shaking for him.
“You played with mine.” His eyes crossed, his tongue trying to hang out.
“Uh-huh. Gonna do it again, too.” She quirked her finger at him, tempting him.
He followed like the happy fool he was, then it was his turn to lead her. Into the bedroom. He wanted to touch everything—boobs, butt, the curve of her shoulder, the inside of her thigh. So he did touch her, his lips sliding on her skin, his fingers drawing patterns.
They made it to his bed, and she climbed up onto the mattress. She knelt there looking like something out of a Trace Adkins video, but with less plastic surgery. Addie was stunning. He stepped up, sliding his hands into her hair to tilt her face up for a kiss. He took it deep, making his intent clear. Bodie was through playing. Foreplay was about done.
She cried out, the sound pushing into the kiss, her tongue sliding against his, sweet as sugar. Addie was all curves, all soft, giving woman. Bodie wanted more. Her breasts rubbed his chest, her nipples hard as rocks.
“Need you, honey. So bad.” He bent to kiss first one, then the other.
“Good thing for you I’m not a cock tease.” She pushed up into his lips, fingers wrapping around his aching flesh with inherent promise.
“No. No, you’re a woman who knows what she wants.” He could tell that already. He fucking liked it.
“I am.” She tugged his dick, hard enough his balls drew up into a tight package. “And I want you.”
“I just need a rubber, honey.” Like he could move right now.
He rolled his eyes toward the nightstand on the right side of the bed. That drawer stuck like crazy. The set had been his grandpa’s.
“’Kay.” She leaned over, offering him a look at that amazing ass as she tugged. The way she wiggled and jiggled set off all his bells and whistles. He felt like the cartoon wolf in the Red Riding Hood gig.
She turned, glanced over her shoulder, eyebrow arching. “Is there a trick to this?”
“It sticks.” He could move now, so Bodie helped out, leaning against her, rubbing up on her while he yanked the drawer open.
They laughed together for a minute, and Bodie sort of couldn’t get it, how she was so damned easy in her skin. It didn’t matter if he got it, though. He would just wallow in it. He rolled her over when she waved the box of condoms, putting her on her back on the bed.
She bounced a little, the packets going everywhere, making her chuckle.
“Good thing we just need one. For now.” Bodie didn’t want to rule out a second go.
“Mmm. I love a man with promise.” Addie’s lashes rested against her cheeks for a moment, and she licked her lips.
“Good.” He got one of the rubbers out, got it smoothed on his cock. He didn’t have to ask if she was ready. He did reach for her, though, taking her lips as he pushed inside her, teasing her slick walls. He stretched her as gently as he could, but he was like a freight train that wasn’t going to be able to slow down.
“Cowboy. Bodie. Stop teasing and fuck me.”
He thought again that he might be in love. This was dangerous. He pulled his fingers free and settled between her legs, his cock sliding into her like he was meant to be inside.
She felt like heaven, wrapping around him, her sweet pussy pulling his cock right in. She made this noise, soft and feminine, almost surprised, and he eased back just so he could push in and hear it again.
“Bodie.” Her hands wrapped around his shoulders. One leg circled his waist.
“Uh-huh. Oh, honey. So hot.” She was giving, perfect for him.
She nodded, rocked onto him, moaning deep in her chest as she did. Her breasts slid against his skin, silky and smooth.
Just in case this never happened again, Bodie tried to memorize everything, from the way she smelled to the way her hair curled as it dried. His old bedsprings were just singing, squealing underneath them. The rhythm was good, easy to match, even though he was losing his breath.
Pushing up, she mashed their lips together, her mouth soft, warm, hungry. The kiss went on and on, their tongues mirroring the movements of their hips. Bodie could feel her body tighten, her wet pussy holding him as her hips sped, driving them together. He was so close his teeth hurt, but he wanted her there with him, wanted to feel her come, feel the wildness she burned with, just under the surface.
“Soon. Don’t stop, cowboy,” she said, her voice rough with need.
That wasn’t going to happen. No fucking way.
“Soon,” he agreed, the word strangled as all hell, and he pried one hand out of the sheets, trying to push it between them. He could help her along.
Her wet curls tried to stymie him, but he persevered, fingertips stroking her clit, making her gasp and twist under him. She was so slick, so ready, and Bodie knew it wouldn’t take much. He pressed and circled, encouraging.
“Bodie!” She gasped and that was it, her entire body was flushing with her orgasm.
“Oh. Honey.” Bodie watched as long as he could, but it was only seconds before he tipped over the edge too, his balls pulling up so taut his belly ached.
He moaned, muscles shaking as he held himself up. Her pretty blue eyes twinkled up at him, just awake and happy.
“Damn, cowboy. That rocked my world.” She clenched around him. “Tell me we get to do it again.”
Bodie choked out a laugh. “I sure hope so. I might just die happy now, though.”
“It’s better than kicking off miserable, man.”
“You know it.” He kissed her, his belly rumbling with a whole different kind of hunger.
“Mmm. Somebody’s hungry.” She stroked his ribs before pressing her small hand to his abs.
“I am.” He would try to be embarrassed, but what better way to work up an appetite than sex? “You munchy?”
“God, yes. Feed me, cowboy!”
He hugged her, just feeling like he needed to let her know how damned happy she made him, just like that. “Come on, then, honey. I got beer and bacon and frozen waffles.”
“Sounds perfect.” She stood up, stretched. “You have a long shirt I can borrow?”
“T-shirt or button down?” He knew what his choice would be.
She grinned, the expression all naughty woman. “Button-down.”
Woo-hoo. One of his soft old T-shirts would be great for nipplage, but the button-down was always the country man’s choice. He pulled one out of the closet and tossed it to her after he dealt with the condom.
She snuggled right into his shirt, and the sight was enough to make him hum. Talk about coming across as a video vixen in the best way. He reached out, tugging a curl of her hair. “Food.”
“No, cowboy. I’m a girl. Food lives in the kitchen.”
“Cave cowboy confused.” He screwed up his face, pulling a big silly frown. Then he headed to the kitchen.
She squeezed his butt as he passed by, making him stand up on his tiptoes. She wasn’t shy at all. He grinned. Lord.
“Sorry, it was right there.”
“Don’t apologize.” Bodie wasn’t sorry at all. She could grope his ass any time.
She leaned against his kitchen counter, all sex kitten, looking for all the world like Ann-Margret. He’d gotten teased for liking that lady in high school, everyone saying she was old, but hey, she’d been Catwoman. What was not to like?
Addie gave him a quizzical look. “What are you thinking?”
“How you look like Catwoman.”
“Meow?” She did that playful claw-finger wiggling thing.
“Yes! All you need is a pleather catsuit and ears.” Oh. Bad boy, thinking that while naked and putting waffles in the toaster.
“And the little mask, don’t forget that. It’s important.”
“Mmm-hmm.” He was just gonna explode. “It’s breakfast food, but late night supper. You want beer, milk, juice or tea?”
She pursed her lips. “I don’t think beer goes with waffles, cowboy.”
“No? It goes with bacon. I was gonna make bacon. If I put on pants.”
“I don’t need bacon.” Her hands wrapped around his hips. “Pants are overrated.”
His blood rushed south, and he thought maybe they just ought to eat syrup and butter. Off each other.
She was amazing, purely sexual, and she made him ache. Even as his stomach growled again. Traitor. He grinned. “So, milk or juice, traditional woman?”
“Mmm. Juice, please. I like it tart.”
“You bet.” He liked her. She was not a tart, but she was pithy. He chuckled.
They settled at his table, her feet in his lap as she tore pieces of her waffle off with her fingers. She dipped it in syrup, licking the drips off before she munched. She was so sensual, so wonderfully unselfconscious.
“So how long you been in town, honey?”
She grinned. “I moved back about six months ago. I’d been traveling for work and my dads offered to let me stay with them for a couple of months before I decided what to do next. I’ve been kinda hiding out, though. Taking pictures and stuff.”
“Your dads?” Oh, now, he had a feeling he knew exactly who she was talking about. “Brandt and Chris?”
Addie nodded. “Yeah. Maddie’s my twin sister.”
Okay, there was no way she was Maddie’s twin.
Everybody knew Maddie Grainger. She was a big-time barrel racer—tall and blonde, stacked to the ceiling, and about as tough as they came. No way this tiny slip of a sex kitten was her twin.
He shook his head. “That’s hard to believe, honey.”
“We’re twins, not identical. Two dads, two turkey basters, one surrogate.” She laughed like it was the most reasonable answer ever.
Maybe it was, to her. Family could be a strange thing. He had three brothers and a sister, all younger, and not one of them looked a bit like him. He took after his momma. They all took after Dad.
Of course, now that he paid attention, he could see where she took after her tiny bull-riding daddy. Chris had been a wildfire, burning up the circuit, once upon a time. She had the same kind of build, almost birdlike, so delicate, but with a core of steel. And if she’d been hiding out, it explained why he’d not seen her around town.
He reached down, put one hand on her ankle, circling it, and she hummed. “You’re warm.”
“Are you chilly?” He didn’t want her to be uncomfortable.
“I am fabulous.”
That was no lie. She was about as fabulous a woman as he’d ever met. And this was from a man who’d been engaged twice. Wow, that was a deflating thought, popping up to remind him of not so great moments.
Her head tilted. “You okay, cowboy?”
“I am.” He shook it off, put on a happy face. No sense inviting trouble.
“Good. No worrying when I’m right here enjoying you.”
“No, ma’am.” Impulsively, he went to stand between her legs, bending so he could lick syrup off her upper lip.
She reached up for him, his shirtsleeves falling down around her arms. Addie felt like heaven, all soft skin and curves, pressing against him.
Her tongue slid against his and she tasted like maple and cream with a hint of apple.
Bodie went after more of the flavor, rubbing closer, feeling his shirt from the outside instead of the inside for a change. The tails of it tickled his knees, her belly soft against his dick. She hugged him to her, her breasts pushing at the buttons, spilling out a little.
Damn, was she for real?
He nipped at her lips while both of them slow danced, right there. The taste of her just drove him crazy, and he was revved up again in no time.
She reached down, cupped his balls once more. “Ready to play again, cowboy?”
Bodie went up on tiptoe, his breath sucking in hard, goosebumps crawling up his arms. “Hell, yes.”
“Excellent.” She winked for him, and led him back to his bed, just like that. Looked as if she was set for round two. Maybe his luck was about to change.