And I froze.

Unbidden, unwanted ice water filled my veins. I clamped my legs shut and my fingers fisted in his hair.

The desire knotting in my belly vanished, it was panic in my belly now, sheer and mad, and my only crazed thought was escape.

His hand froze, his body stilled and his head came up but I didn't look at him.

I let him go, rolled, dislodging him and his hand and put a knee to the bed to launch myself away. I got about a foot before he tagged me and dragged me backward into the heat of his body.

"Let go!" I screamed in a voice so shrill, so full of terror, it hurt my own ears.

"Sadie, calm down," he whispered into the back of my neck as his arms wrapped tight around me, one at my stomach, one at my chest, pulling me into his hard body. "You're safe. We'll stop."

"I have to go," I demanded.

I felt his gentle, "Sh," at my neck and I saw his hand reach out, nab a blanket at the end of the bed and pull it over my body.

I was trembling head-to-foot regardless of his heat and the blanket. Trembling so violently I could swear I felt the bed shaking with it.

The humiliation was excruciating, crippling and I felt tears clog my throat.

"I have to go," I repeated, my voice sounding funny.

"Quiet, mi corazn," he said gently.

I stayed quiet but I went on trembling, staring unseeing across his bed to his wall. He went on holding me tightly, his face in my hair, his warm breath on my neck. After long moments, his heat penetrated the cold in my veins and the tremors stopped.

It was then I realized I did it to him again. I came onto him and took him somewhere I didn't intend to go. I didn't know I didn't intend to go there but that was the way it ended all the same.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

He gave me a squeeze. "Why?" he asked.

"I did it to you again," I told him honestly. It cost me but he deserved honesty and not the cold bitch I treated him to the last time I walked away from him.

He rolled me to face him, arranged the blanket so it was covering me again and slid his hand through the side of my hair, pulling it away from my face. His hand went down my back until his arm was locked around me again.

I looked into his eyes. They were warm and gentle not hard and angry.

Well, thank God for that.

Finally, he said, "Don't worry about it."

"I didn't intend "

"I know you didn't."

"I feel like an idiot."

"Don't," he said firmly.

I pulled in my lips, nodded (even though I still felt like an idiot, I mean, this was embarrassing) then dropped my gaze to his throat.

"Put your arms around me, mamita," he ordered.

I didn't want to but I did and, for some reason, this made me feel better.

"Can I ask a favor?"

I nodded again.

"Stay here tonight."

My body went tight.

"No, Sadie." His fingers came to my chin and lifted my face to look at him. When my eyes were on his he leaned in and touched his mouth to mine. He pulled away a couple of inches and said, "I just want you beside me. That's it."

"Buddy and Ralphie " I began, using my one and only easy (but good) excuse.

"I'll call Buddy and Ralphie."

Darn.

If Hector called Ralphie and Buddy and Ralphie answered he'd probably leap for joy. I figured Buddy's reaction would be far less dramatic but along the same vein.

I chewed my lip. Oh heck, what could I say?

First off, I'd already slept with him twice. It was on a couch but still. Secondly, I could hardly say no after this latest episode. Lastly, I wanted to stay with him, he made me feel snug, warm and safe.

Boy, my plans never really worked out, did they?

"Okay," I agreed.

He didn't grin, look amused or glory in his triumph. He pushed up, kissed the top of my head then slid away.

I sat up, holding the blanket to my front and watched as he walked across to a dresser, pulled open a drawer and yanked something out.

I stared in fascination at his brown-skinned, muscled back. It had a tattoo too, this one on his right shoulder blade, bigger than the other one. It was a skull, wearing an elaborate crown, its grinning teeth clenching a beautiful rose. The skull and crown were all in black, the petals and stem of the rose, though, were in full, striking color. Although I was no tattoo expert, I had an art degree so I felt safe in saying the rose was exquisite, you could see the artist had taken their time and they were skilled at their craft, it was, quite simply, stunning.

It was way cooler then the broken heart.

He slammed the drawer, turned and walked back to me. He gave me a white t-shirt, wrapped his hand around the back of my head, leaned in and kissed the top again. Then he walked away, went to another drawer, got something else and headed to the door.

He stopped, put his hand to the knob and looked at me. "Get changed, mamita, I'll call the boys and I'll be back."

I nodded again, he closed the door and I heard the floorboards creak as he walked away.

I stared at the doors and rewound the evening wondering how I got myself in this latest predicament. Without lemon drops to blame (I had diet with my spicy beef burrito), I could only blame the power tools.

Now what normal girl got turned on by power tools? I was so weird!

Then I realized he could be back any second. It didn't take a year to call Ralphie and Buddy.

I threw the blanket back, tugged on the t-shirt (which was huge on me, by the way), undid my bra underneath it and squirmed and contorted until I pulled it off. I snatched up my clothes, folding them, my bra between my shirt and skirt, I put them on the dresser and dashed back to the bed which, I noticed belatedly, was unmade. I rearranged the pillows that were slightly scattered but partially stacked so that they were evenly placed. I sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed, pulled the covers up around my waist, tucked them tightly around me and I stared at the door.

When it didn't open immediately, I looked around the room.

I noticed a dresser, closet (one door open, one Hispanic Hottie that clearly hadn't been taught how to properly hang clothes), boots and running shoes scattered against one wall and a laundry hamper overflowing in a corner.

Incongruous to the room, an expensive, flat screen TV sat on a handsome, dark wood, heavy, masculine TV stand that rested at the wall opposite the bed. It had electronic equipment and stacks of DVDs on display on shelves underneath it.

Boy, gay or straight, rich or poor, men really liked their TVs.

The room hadn't been refinished. The once utilitarian cream of the walls was grubby, the white skirting boards chipped, the wood floors notched and needing sanding and refinishing.

Did a man bring a woman to such a room? Such a house?

If that man was Hector, a real man who didn't give a damn what anyone thought of him, the answer was yes.

My stomach pitched and it hit me for the first time just how profound it was what Ricky took from me.

Because a normal, free New Sadie, fresh from a life under her father's thumb, should have had a different end to a "just the two of us" date with Hector.

On that dismal thought, the door opened and Hector was there.

He was carrying his clothes and boots and wearing a pair of pajama pants, a thick, navy elastic band at the waist, plaid flannel legs. The thing was, he'd cut them off at mid-thigh (and, to be honest, had not done a great job) so the hems were ragged, they looked like they'd been worn about five million times and the waist hung low so I could see his defined abs and hip bones.

Oh my blooming my.

His head came up, he saw me sitting in his bed, his body jolted to a halt like he'd hit a wall and he froze.

I blinked.

Now, really, how bizarre was that?

I stared at him. He stared at me.

The way he was looking at me made me feel funny, really funny, seriously funny (but in a good way), so I blurted, "Is everything okay with Ralphie and Buddy?"

His chin jerked back, he came unstuck, walked to the laundry hamper and answered my question with a, "Yeah."

I watched him move. He moved well.

I tried to stop thinking about how well he moved.

"Um..." I muttered. "Isn't it kind of early to go to bed?"

And it was early, at the latest nine.

"Yeah," he said and dumped some clothes on the hamper. They immediately tumbled off the top and fell on the floor. He apparently didn't notice this. He twisted and tossed his boots into the pile by the wall. I watched them sail and land with a thump.

Then my eyes went back to him, I caught the crowned skull again before he turned and came to the side of the bed.

"Should we watch TV or something?" I suggested.

He was carrying his jeans. His eyes came to me as he dropped his cell on the bedside table and then emptied his pockets.

There was something immensely weird but very lovely, snugly, comfy, warm about sitting in his bed and watching Hector empty the pockets of his jeans. Before I could plumb the depths of this weird, lovely, snugly, comfy, warm feeling, Hector spoke.

"Yeah," he said again, his eyes lazy on me and that made me feel weird, lovely, comfy warm too!

"Do you have to move furniture around?" I asked him. "Because, if you do, I can help."

A glamorous smile hit his mouth and my breath caught. "Move furniture around?"

"You know, downstairs."

He laughed softly, shook his head and jutted his chin to the wall. My eyes moved to where he was indicating.

Oh boy. We were going to watch TV in Hector's bed.

This was not good. In fact, how was I here at all? Why did I agree to this?

I rewound the night frantically (even though I'd done the same thing only moments before), it came back to me in a humiliating rush and I swallowed.

I was there for a reason and there I had agreed to stay.

Blooming heck.

"What if we want popcorn? We can't eat popcorn in your bed," I told him, sounding maybe an eensy bit desperate.

He twisted, I got a look at the King of Skulls on his back shoulder again, he tossed his jeans in the general direction of the hamper (they hit the target but also rolled off and fell to the floor and he didn't care about that either). Then before I knew what he was about, he'd turned around, doubled at the waist and put his fists into the bed, close to my thighs.

This meant his face was close to mine.

"First of all, mamita, I don't have any popcorn. Second, you barely touched your dinner. Now you wanna eat?"

I thought fast (this, by the way, was not easy).

"My mind was occupied at dinner. Now, I'm feeling peckish," I lied. I would probably throw up if I ate anything, I was so nervous.

He shook his head laughing low again then lifted up, pulled back the covers and slid in.

My heart stopped.

He arranged the pillows behind his back (I will note, he completely devastated my efforts at equal pillow disbursement of not ten minutes before). His arm curled around my waist and he pulled me backwards so my back hit his side, my legs uncrossed and my shoulder and head were pillowed on his chest.

Oh, I got it. I didn't need pillows. I was using his chest as a pillow. So that was why he could hog them all.