Free Mr. Unlucky by BA Tortuga Page A

her, hot and wet and deep.
    She wrapped her arms around him, holding on. “Oh, better.”
    “I swear, honey, you take all my good sense.”
    “You make me dizzy.” She didn’t think it was a bad thing, though. She thought she could get used to it.
    “Sure that’s not the paint fumes?” He chuckled before kissing her cheek.
    “They took the BPAs out of paints, didn’t they?”
    “Still makes me weird sometimes.” Bodie pulled out of her, gentle as anything.
    She reached out, fingers tickling his belly. “The bathroom looks great.”
    His belly sucked in, then quivered with his laughter. “Thanks. I figured that way you’d have a sink.”
    “No one’s ever put in a sink for me before.”
    “Hey, I dealt with Hector at the hardware store. We picked out paint for you.”
    “Oh, wow. It’s a perfect color—warm, sunny, but not…ew.”
    Colors were important to her. She was a photographer, after all. She was very visual.
    “Well, thank God for not ew.” He swatted her butt playfully. “Did I hear you mention burritos?”
    “I did. It’s not like we can call out for Chinese.” Not that she minded that, really. She liked having a reason to go to town.
    “Mmm. One of these days we’ll go on into a real town and get egg foo young. Dallas maybe. Texarkana is too small.”
    “Sounds like a plan. I know a place in Arlington.” She found her clothes, got herself cleaned up.
    “Yeah? They have good stuff?” He wiped down with a towel that lay by the bed. God, he was hot, all lean muscle and unselfconscious grace.
    “Uh-huh. Private little booths and tons of tiny finger foods.” It was erotic as hell, even if you were there by yourself.
    His eyes darkened with interest. “I like the sound of that, honey.”
    “I like the idea of licking sauce from your fingers.”
    “We could do that with ribs. Right here.”
    “Mmm. I could so do that. Tonight, though? Burritos.”
    “Well, get cookin’, woman.” His hand landed on her butt, more a caress than a slap.
    She snorted, kissed his cheek. “I’m on it, lover.”
    “I’ll just finish up in the guest bath.”
    It was neat, acting like a real couple.
    “I’ll holler when I get close.” She headed off to the kitchen, smiling when she saw a new little iPod player, waiting for her iPod to play on it. Bodie’s idea of technology had been Kraco speakers on his truck. She was bringing him into the twenty-first century, kicking and screaming.
    She found the Cowboy playlist, singing along with Garth and George, Alan and Tim as she chopped and cooked. She wiggled a little to Ain’t Going Down while she browned the meat, and found Bodie smiling at her when she turned toward the fridge.
    “Hey, you. You want beer or tea with your food? It’s fixin’ to be on the table.”
    “Tea, I think. Been working all day, and I’m parched.” He’d washed up and changed into a pair of old jeans and a t-shirt, both thin and soft looking.
    “You got it.” She poured two big glasses and made him two burritos, one for her, and doused them with chili and cheese.
    “God, that smells good.” He plopped down at the table.
    “Thanks.” She settled; it looked great and she thanked that little Mexican abuelita again, for the recipe.
    Bodie murmured a little grace, and they dug in with little fanfare. The man was as focused when he ate as when he fucked. Addie approved.
    Her phone squawked and tootled, vibrating on the table. Silly thing.
    “What’s that, honey? You need to call someone?”
    She looked, rolled her eyes. “Nah. It’s my iPeriod. It says I’m like three days late, and it’s having a conniption.”
    The program was new enough that it didn’t have her cycle down exactly right and hell, a couple-three days on either side of twenty-eight was the norm for her.
    He raised an eyebrow. “How late is that in Addie years?”
    “Huh?” Hadn’t she said? It wasn’t a big deal.
    “I mean, three days. Are you like clockwork, or is that scary?” He was