The rush across the room seemed to take forever, each step punctuated by yips and growls and a woman’s arguing voice. “Knight?” Hank yelled a little louder as he reached the corner by the fridge. A deep breath, then he shot a quick searching glance into the hall.
What he saw had him gaping in shock. “What—”
There was a woman in his apartment. He’d guessed that much from the voice, though he still didn’t understand it. What he couldn’t have guessed was that the woman was mostly naked, standing in the hall wrapped in a flimsy towel that Knight seemed to think was a play toy. A torn piece of white material lay on the ground, and the dog had one corner gripped between his jaws. A game of tug-of-war had commenced that threatened to unveil what the woman had, for the moment, covered. Taking in the picture, the tension in Hank’s gut released. He stepped into the hall to lean against the doorjamb, unsure how to react.
Or who would win, for that matter. Hank had his money on Knight, and considering the woman in question, whoever she was, he felt pretty sure he’d be happy about the outcome.
She was slender. Wet streaks highlighted her bare legs, the muscles sleek and strong as she fought Knight’s pull. The towel covered her from midthigh to armpits, unfortunately, but he could tell the middle of her body matched her legs and the top third of her. Damp brown hair tangled itself around her shoulders and down her back, falling forward to hide her face. The line of her collarbone cut across slim shoulders, bringing attention to the creamy expanse of her skin, dusted here and there with a sprinkling of cinnamon-colored freckles. Hands clutched the towel closed over generous breasts, but just barely. Much more pulling and he wouldn’t have to imagine what she was hiding. His mouth watered at the thought.
“Let go, dog!”
A latent sense of chivalry kicked in. Much as he might like the view, he couldn’t let his dog harass…who was she, anyway, and why was she in his apartment?
He crossed his feet at the ankles, content to let Knight do the job of policing their home while he followed up with the interrogation. Pushing a gruff note into his voice, he barked, “Who the hell are you?”
The woman’s head snapped up. Hank’s breath got stuck somewhere behind his sternum as he met brilliant blue eyes. Angry blue eyes that almost eclipsed the pixie face staring back at him.
“Who are you?” Her voice was low, as angry as her eyes despite the uncertainty that rasped through her words. She wasn’t backing down, that was for sure. Her bravado sent a tingle through his belly—and lower. That old urge, to hunt, to conquer, rose with other parts of his anatomy.
Dangerous. Wrong.
Hank fought it down, breathed through it, but before he found the control to answer, Knight decided he wanted to play some more. He jerked at the towel. The material slipped lower, forcing the woman to tighten her grip or lose the covering altogether. The adjustment pushed the rounded globe of her breast higher. How much farther before he could see her nipple?
He shook his head. Why was he thinking about breasts when there was a strange woman in his home? He dug his fists into his pockets, hoping to obscure the unexpected effect she was having on him. “Since this is my apartment, I think my question comes first.”
Confusion filtered across those lovely features. The woman stepped back, only to be brought up short by Knight’s unyielding grip. “You’re Hank?”
Knight wanted to continue the game. He growled, giving the towel a hard shake like he’d nabbed a rabbit by the neck instead of a length of terry cloth. The move yanked the woman forward. She stumbled, panic sparking in her eyes. “Aren’t you going to call him off?”
“Why?” he asked, barely managing to hold back his laughter. After a long, boring night driving and the news he’d just been hit with, he had to admit he was enjoying this little surprise. Knight was playing; Hank knew it even if the woman hadn’t figured it out yet, and he couldn’t resist playing with her a bit himself. “We have an intruder. He’s just doing his job.”
She shook her head wildly. “I’m not an intruder. I live here.” She pulled on the towel. Knight dug in his paws, not giving an inch. “I—”
Knight faked her out with a sudden lunge forward. The woman stumbled back, trying to avoid what looked like an attack. Knight took advantage and snatched the fabric out of her hands. Away from her body.
Hank’s dick went tighter than his bass strings.
He had no more than a half count to imprint the sight in his mind. It was all he needed. Full, round, high breasts with tender pink nipples drawn up tight. A smooth expanse of stomach begging to be explored, with just the right amount of inward curve at her waist to give him a place to grip. Hips wide enough to cradle him perfectly against the sparse patch of dark hair between her legs. Christ, she looked sweet, sweet enough to eat.
And mortified.
A bright red blush flared across her cheeks. The woman slapped a hand across her breasts, obscuring his view, and then, quick as the rabbit Knight had pretended to play with, she whirled away. He got an all too brief glimpse of her ass as she fled down the hall, the bounce of the perfect globes sending a second slam of blood to his already full erection. The crash of the guest bedroom door echoed around him as he hunched against the pain with a rough—very rough—laugh.
Oblivious to the drama he’d caused, Knight settled onto his belly there in the middle of the hall, happily munching away on his prize. Hank opened his mouth to reprimand the dog, to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all, maybe to call the
