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Privilege (Special Tactical Units Division 2)

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The word penetrated his thoughts. Still holding her, he drew back. Not far. Just enough so he could see her face.

Hell.

>

Her face was pale. Her gaze was downturned.

Not good, he thought, dammit, not good.

“Bianca.”

“Please. Put me down.”

Her voice was a whisper. He could barely hear it. But whatever she was feeling, it wasn’t the sweet afterglow of sex.

Slowly, he did as she’d asked. When her feet touched the sand, she raised her hands, placed them against his chest and pushed against it just enough to make it clear she wanted him to step back.

Okay. She needed some space. He got that. What had just happened… No finesse. No tenderness. Yes, he got it. The next time would be—

“Let go of me, please.”

Shit. She was polite. Too polite. A stranger asking another stranger to pass the salt would have spoken with more emotion.

“Bianca?”

She looked down at herself. He heard the indrawn hiss of her breath. She took her hands from his chest, grabbed the waistband of her pants, stumbled a little as she jammed her foot back into them. When he tried to help, she jerked away.

“Baby—”

Her gaze flew to his. Her eyes flashed with cold fire. So much for the politeness of strangers.

“Don’t.”

“Honey. Baby. If you’d just listen—”

“Honey? Baby? What’s the matter, Lieutenant? Did you forget my name already?”

Okay. She was upset. He’d been a little fast. Not just the way he’d taken her. The entire thing had been a little fast…

“Bianca.” She was trying to button her blouse, but hell, that wasn’t going to happen. He’d seen all those tiny buttons go flying. “Honey,” he said, trying to help her tug the edges of the blouse together, “listen—”

She slapped his hands away.

“No,” she said. “You listen! This was—what you just did was—”

Chay drew back. “What I did?”

“You’re right. What we did. It was—it was awful.”

Apparently, nobody was going to enjoy the afterglow tonight.

“Look,” he said carefully, “I know it was fast. But—”

“Not fast enough.” She bent down and picked up her purse. “Would you please step aside?”

“What in hell does that mean? ‘Not fast enough.’”

“It means what it is. I thought you would never get to the end.”



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