Privilege (Special Tactical Units Division 2)

“No,” she said quickly. “It was—it was an amazing night. I was just so, you know, so shocked at what I’d done…”

He kissed her again. “I couldn’t stop thinking about that night. About you.”

“Mmm.” She reached up, stroked her hand through his thick, dark hair. “So is the falcon a vision figure?”

“Yes. And no. I did have a vision, and it involved a falcon.” Chay smiled. “But that wasn’t a complete surprise, because of my name.”

“Chayton?”

He nodded. “It means ‘falcon’ in Lakota.”

“It’s a wonderful name. It’s just right for you.”

“It was my grandfather’s gift to me. He chose it when I was born. My mother said he told her he hoped I would grow up to be as brave and strong as a falcon.”

Bianca smiled. “He must have been very wise.”

“He was old-school. A man of another time, you know? I’m sorry I never got to know him.”

“But he’s part of you. Not only did he name you, you grew up to be the man he’d wished you would be.”

“That’s a good way to think of it. But…” Chay lowered his mouth to hers. Touched the tip of his tongue to the seam of her lips. “But,” he said in a low voice, “as much as I care for his memory, I have to be honest.”

“About what?” she whispered, her breath catching as he tongued her nipple.

“I have no desire to have grandpa in this bed.”

She giggled. “No?”

“No,” Chay said, and he gathered her in his arms and eased her on top of him.

His erection pressed into her.

She moaned and, God, he loved that sound. Loved this. The wet heat of her surrounding him in.

“Take me in all the way,” he whispered. “Take me deep, sweetheart.”

“Chayton? Oh God. Chayton…”

She slid down his hard, hot length. Her lashes swept her cheeks. Her head fell back. “Yes,” he said thickly, “like that. Like that…”

He clasped her hips, helped her rise. And fall.

Rise. And fall.

Until the rhythm was hers, the pace was hers, and they lost themselves in each other as she rode him into the darkness of the night.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Chay slept fitfully.

His dreams were filled with broken images. Bianca, dancing in the rain. The tall guy, Noah, trying to restrain her at Cuppa Joe’s. The condom. The malevolent phone call. The man on the street last night.

He had endless questions with no answers, and a plan that needed implementation. Lying in bed with Bianca nestled against him was wonderful, but it wasn’t going to change what some bastard was trying to do to her.

At four in the morning, he eased his arm from around her shoulders. She sighed and stirred a little and he held very still. He didn’t want to wake her until he had to. Once he had everything in place, she’d be less likely to give him a hard time.

At least he hoped so.