Privilege (Special Tactical Units Division 2)

“It’s leather.”

“Yes,” she said with a bright, infuriating smile. “I can see that. Bikers always wear leather, and I thank you for the offer, but I have no need to try to look macho, or whatever the female equivalent is called.”

He knew he’d just been insulted. Baited, maybe, but why rise to that bait? An insult only mattered if you were going to have to keep dealing with the person who’d insulted you. Well, he wouldn’t. After tonight, he’d never have to see Bianca Bellini Wilde again.

Maybe there was a God after all.

“Bike safety rule number two. Leather isn’t about looks. It’s about protection. Leather can keep your skin from scraping off if we take a tumble. Skin is soft. Asphalt isn’t.”

Excellent. That stopped her. It also turned her a little pale. Time to retreat a little or he’d never get them the fuck out of here.

“Not that we’ll take a tumble,” he added quickly. “It’s just a precaution.”

“But what about you?”

“I have no intention of crashing my bike.”

“Nobody intends an accident to happen.”

“Jesus, woman, must you argue over everything? Put your arms into the sleeves. That’s it.”

He clasped her shoulders, turned her towards him. The jacket seemed to have swallowed her whole. She looked small and frightened. He thought of the women whose eyes always lit at the sight of his big Harley, and how eager they were to ride it with him.

“The Bountiful Babe Machine,” Declan Sanchez had dubbed it one unforgettable weekend, and the guys had all guffawed.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the Tigress would not find the designation amusing.

“Listen,” he said, his tone softening, “I know you’re afraid of getting on the bike, but—”

Her chin lifted. “I am afraid of nothing, Lieutenant.”

“Yeah, well, just in case you are—”

“Perhaps you didn’t hear what I said.”

“How could I not hear you?” he said, his voice rising. “You’re shouting.”

“I am speaking emphatically. I am not shouting.”

“Look, you admitted it just a few minutes ago. You said you were fearful, and I said the best way to deal with fear was to face it, and—”

“I didn’t say that. You did. It’s what you always do, Lieutenant. You make assumptions and—”

Dammit, he thought, there was only one way to shut her up.

Cover her mouth with his.

Kiss her.

And kiss her. Kiss her until it happened just the way it had happened all those months ago at the wedding. Kiss her until she moaned and leaned into him, until she parted her lips, opened for him, to him…

Chay swung away and grabbed his helmet. He jammed it on his head. Closed the chinstrap. Then he threw his leg over the bike.

“Zip up the jacket,” he growled. “Check the helmet strap. Now climb… Wait.” He reached out. She jumped back. He grabbed her pocketbook, tugged it off her shoulder, then slipped the strap over her head so the purse fell across her body. “Okay. Take a look at the bottom of the bike. See those steel pegs? Stand on one with your left foot. Good. Now put your leg over the bike. That’s the way. Okay. Excellent.”

He could feel her shifting her weight, trying to get used to the feel of the seat.

“Got your feet set?”