His arms went tight.

* * * * *

I woke up and something was crushing me. I laid there, in the dark, assessing the situation, then remembered.

I was on my back and Hank was at my side, I could feel his breath at my temple, his bicep was resting on my midriff, his forearm curling up my ribs with his hand resting at the side of my breast. His thigh was thrown over both of mine. Adding to this, Shamus was on the other side of me, his head resting on my bel y under Hank’s arm, like my stomach was a pil ow.

Both the human and canine Nightingale boys had me trapped. I’d been feeling trapped for years, but this kind of trapped felt snug and secure.

It was at this juncture that reason returned.

This was not a good thing.

It was so not a good thing that it might have been a catastrophic thing.

The thing wasn’t even about Bil y. I had the feeling that Hank might understand about Bil y. Hank was a good guy and it was pretty clear he liked me (okay, so it was real y clear he liked me).

I wasn’t entirely certain I wanted to test this idea, however.

No, it was about sleeping with Hank on the first date.

I was such a slut.

What must he think of me?

I might have been able to explain about Bil y if I hadn’t slept with Hank on the first date. Now, he’d just think I was easy; an easy girl from Indiana who’d f**k criminals and cops without blinking an eye.

I’d even said please.

There was only one solution to this problem.

I had to get out of there.

Immediately.

Not just get out of Hank’s house but out of Denver.

My plan to leave Bil y was screwed. I had to abort and start al over again.

I moved and Shamus jerked and sat up.

I froze, listening, but Hank didn’t wake.

“Let’s go boy, move out,” I whispered to Shamus, shoving him a bit and he jumped off the bed. I slid out from under Hank and then stopped again, waiting. He stil didn’t wake so I got out of bed. Shamus thought it was playtime and wagged his tail, running to the door of the room and back to me.

“Shh!” I hissed. “Come here. Sit!” Shamus did as he was told and I heard his tail sweeping the floor with excitement.

He thought we were going to take a midnight strol , maybe go to a park and play Frisbee. Crazy dog.

I gave him an ear scratch, wishing I could play Frisbee with him (not at that exact moment, but at some moment, eventual y, and it caught at my heart that I knew I never would).

He licked my hand.

That caught at my heart too.

“You’re such a good boy,” I told him, meaning it and also wishing Hank didn’t have a dog. It was hard enough dealing with al that was Hank, add a dog to the mix and it was nearly impossible.

“Stay,” I commanded and Shamus obeyed.

I started searching for my clothes in the dark and tripped over one of my Mary Jane’s.

“Shit!” I whispered and looked toward the bed.

Hank hadn’t moved.

Thank God.

I found my underwear and jeans but tripped over Hank’s boot on the way to my shirt.

“Fuck!” I snapped and gave up, feeling like a fool, rooting around na**d in the dark. Much better to root around in the dark partial y dressed.

I put on my underwear and Shamus lost patience with waiting and walked over to me. He leaned his furry body into my legs and I could feel it undulating with the force of his tail wags.

“Sit Shamus. Be good,” I mumbled, doing another head scratch while Shamus settled on my feet.

I was straightening from the dog, jeans stil in my hand when the light came on.

My head snapped up and I looked at the bed.

Hank came back from stretching to reach the light and sat up on an elbow, his eyes settling on me. He looked sleepy, hair tousled, chest bared and my breath caught. He might look handsome normal y, kickass handsome angry and melt-in-your-mouth handsome when he casual y drove his car but sleepy he was a knockout.

“What’re you doin’?” he asked.

“You’re awake,” I pointed out the obvious.

“The neighbors are awake with al your racket. What’re you doin’?”

“I’m leaving.”

Uh… not good.

One second, he looked sleepy, the next second, he looked pissed off.

“What did you say?” he asked.

I looked down, anything not to look at Hank, and pul ed my feet out from under Shamus.

“I’m gonna cal a cab and I’m leaving.”

Deprived of my feet, Shamus got up and pressed his body against my legs again. This was unfortunate as I was trying to put on my jeans, thus hopping around on one leg and avoiding Shamus at the same time. Not exactly graceful but I had nothing left to lose.

I shouldn’t have looked down. Without warning, Hank was there. He jerked my arm pul ing me off balance. I dropped the jeans and col ided with him and Shamus.

Shamus scooted out from between us, then pressed against both of us.

Hank was naked. I hadn’t had a chance to get a good look at him, what with being entirely too tuned into how turned on he was making me. I knew he had a great chest but my quick glance showed me he pretty much had a great everything else as wel .

I ignored his great everything else and snapped. “Hey!” trying to pul my arm away but Hank held on tight. In fact, his free hand came up and grabbed my other arm.

“Get back into bed,” he said, looking down at me.

“I’m going,” I told him.

“You’re not going.”

I was stil trying to pul away. I was stil not succeeding.

“I am.”

“Why?”

“Does it matter?”

“Why?”

Jeez, there was just no shaking this guy.

“Let go,” I was getting kind of desperate. I dropped my gaze to his chest, raised my hands there and began to push.

He shook me gently to get my attention. It worked. I looked back up.

“Tel me why you’re sneakin’ out of my bed in the middle of the night.”

“Hank –”

“Answer me, goddammit!”

Holy cow.

He wasn’t pissed off anymore, he was angry. I couldn’t only see it on his face; I could feel it emanating from his body. For some reason, it didn’t scare me. He had it in check. It was entirely control ed. I knew that like I knew there were no other jeans in the world as good as Lucky jeans.