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"Forget it." She snapped it out.
"I already have. But if you're going to walk around all tight-assed about it—"
"I'll walk any way I want, and you just keep your hands off me, you moron, or I'll rip your lungs out and use them for bagpipes."
"Same goes, sweetheart. I'd rather kiss the back end of an alley cat."
Her breath was coming quick now. Outrage. "I bet that's just your style."
"Better that than a stiff-necked uniform with an attitude."
"Asshole."
"Twit."
They turned together into an empty office, slammed the door. And leapt at each other.
She bit his lip. He nipped her tongue. She body pressed him against the wall. He managed to get his hands under her thick coat to squeeze her ass. The moans that ripped from their throats came out as one single, tortured sound.
Then her back was against the wall and he filled his hands with her breasts.
"Oh God, you're built. You are so built."
He was kissing her as if he could swallow her whole. As if the universe centered on that one taste. Her head was spinning too fast for her to catch her own thoughts. And somehow the bright buttons of her uniform were open and his fingers were on her flesh.
Who'd have thought the man had such fabulous fingers?
"We can't do this." Even as she said it she was scraping her teeth along his throat.
"I know. We'll stop. In a minute." The scent of her—all starch and soap—was driving him crazy. He was fighting with her bra when the 'link behind them beeped and had them both muffling a scream.
Panting like dogs, clothes twisted, eyes glazed, they stared at each other with a kind of horror. "Holy God," he managed.
"Step back, step back." She shoved him hard enough to knock him back on his heels and began to fumble with her buttons. "It's the pressure. It's the stress. It's something, because this is not happening."
"Right, absolutely. If I don't have sex with you, I think I'm going to die."
"If you'd die, I wouldn't have this problem." She did her buttons up wrong, swore, and fumbled them open again.
Watching her, he felt his tongue go thick. "Having sex would be the mother of all mistakes."
"Agreed." She buttoned her uniform again, then met his eyes dead-on. "Where?"
"Your place?"
"Can't. My brother's staying with me."
"Mine then. After shift. We'll just do it, and it's done and we'll, you know. Get it out of the way and be back to normal."
"Deal." With a brisk nod, she bent and picked up her cap. "Tuck in your shirt, McNab."
"I don't think that's a good idea quite yet." He grinned at her. "Dallas might wonder why I've got a hard-on the size of Utah."
Peabody snorted, straightened her cap. "Your ego, maybe."
"Baby, we'll see what you say about that after shift."
She felt a little tingling between her thighs, but sniffed. "Don't call me baby," she told him and yanked open the door.
