Coyote Heat (SEALs On Fire)

by Desiree Holt

  “So, can we start here with a clean slate?” he asked.

  “As long as it’s just for one drink,” she reminded him.

  Yeah, he’d see about that.

  “Mmm.” She took a sip of the frosty drink. “Yum.”

  “To Margaritaville.” He raised his bottle to her.

  “Margaritaville,” she agreed, clinking her glass with his beer.

  “And maybe to another drink,” he said softly. “I hope.”

  “Who knows?” Her voice held a touch of mischief. “You may be right.”

  Coyote took another long swallow of his cold beer, hoping it would take the edge off the heat surging through his body. They sat there for a long moment, listening to the music behind them and watching the reflection of the sun on the water as it slid slowly from the sky.

  “So,” he said, “local or tourist?”

  “Local.”

  “I wasn’t sure there actually was such a thing at Key West?”

  “Someone has to take care of all you crazy tourists, right?” She laughed, a soft musical sound.

  “And you take care of the tourists how?”

  “Actually, I don’t take care of them at all. I work from home, testing software programs for a company in Tampa that makes computer games.”

  He looked at her, surprised. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who actually does that.” He laughed. “Although my friends and I are kind of addicts, like half the male population. It’s a good stress reliever when we’re between missions.”

  “I’m guessing your home base is in Virginia rather than California?”

  “Yeah, but home is really in Texas.”

  She slid a glance at him. “How’d you end up here for the weekend? Or however long you’re here.”

  “One of the guys has a friend who owns a house here. We don’t know how long this leave will last and this seemed like a good place to hang out.”

  She nodded at the pager clipped to his belt. “You have to take that with you everywhere?”

  “Orders are orders. We get paged if we’re being called back to base.

  “Doesn’t that kind of put a crimp in your social life?”

  He shrugged. “You get used to it. Try to make the best of whatever time you have.” He draped his arm casually along the back of her chair, his fingers idly fiddling with her hair. “I hope that’s what I’m doing now.”

  “Making the best of it?”

  “Uh, huh.” He studied her face. “It’s hard to make promises to people when you don’t know if you can keep them.”

  “Promises?” She laughed, a musical sound. “You realize I don’t even know your name.”

  “Sorry. Doesn’t say much for my manners. Miguel Cruz. But my friends call me Coyote so everyone else does, too.”

  “Coyote.” He loved the sound of it on her tongue. “It suits you.”

  “Your friend called you Cori, but there’s got to be a last name, right?”

  She nodded. “Sutherland.”

  “Cori Sutherland. Beautiful name.”

  For a beautiful woman.

  He said the words like a caress then found himself unusually tongue-tied. Normally by now, they’d be on their second round of drinks, he’d have sent a few signals, received some back, and he’d be working toward getting her up to his hotel room. But tonight the chemistry was different. He had an unfamiliar urge to put this in a different framework, to talk to this woman rather than just get her in a room, rip her clothes off, and go at it like monkeys.

  Not that he didn’t have that in mind, too. But again, everything about this was different. He might only have this weekend with her, but he had a sudden urge to create a weekend of memories. Something he could take out and relive when he was hunkered down in Afghanistan or wherever they sent him next.

  And maybe even hope to recreate if he had the opportunity.

  But he had to be honest with her. “Cori, I want to be very honest with you. I need you to understand that I’m just here for a few days. I’m not looking to start a long-term relationship or anything. I just want to enjoy the weekend, and I want it to be with you.”

  He didn’t expect the look of frank approval she turned on him. “I always appreciate a man’s honesty. That gets you a lot of points. So let’s drink to a fun weekend.”

  “Does that mean we’re okay for a second round? Your glass is empty and my beer’s gone.”

  “Sure. That’ll work.”

  He stood up and reached for her glass. “Or would you rather take a walk?”

  Take a walk? The words had rolled out of his mouth before his brain could catch up with them. No, no, no. The object was to ply her with alcohol and…

  No. This is different.

  Cori stared at him, startled. “A walk? You want to take a walk?”

  He shook his head. “Never mind. It was probably a stupid idea. Let’s just sit here and enjoy the sunset.”

  “No. Not at all.” She stood up. “We can walk on the beach and watch the sunset from there.” She pointed to a tray on a stand where the railing curved. “Just leave my glass and the bottle there. Someone will pick them up.” She smiled shyly when he reached for her hand.

  It felt so small and soft in his. Heat that had nothing to do with the sun blasted him, and his heart did a somersault. What was he getting himself into?

  “Come on. Let’s get away from this mob.”

  For a moment, he thought she’d had second thoughts, was about to change her mind, then she smiled. “All right.”

  “Then show me the way.”

  The bar seemed even more crowded now than before, no surprise since this was Friday night. Coyote held Cori’s hand tightly as she led him out of the mob, back onto Duval Street and with a few twists and turns, they were on a beach with some of the finest sand he’d ever seen. Here he could feel the breeze coming in off the water, slightly diminishing the heat of the sun.

  “Take off your shoes.” She stopped, pulled off her sandals, and hooked one finger through the straps.

  Coyote let go of her hand only long enough to step out of his deck shoes and grab them with his left hand. Then he laced his fingers with hers and they walked slowly toward the water’s edge. He loved the feel of her hand locked with his, the consciousness of her next to him.

  “A beach is probably nothing new to you, being a SEAL and all.”

  “No comparison,” he said. “When we hit a beach, it’s in full gear and we are mission focused.” He took in a full breath and let it out slowly. “This is…nice.”

  They walked in silence for a while, swallowed up in the quiet. But then Coyote couldn’t stand it any more. He stopped, pulled her around to face him and dropped their shoes on the sand.

  “What—?”

  The rest of her question disappeared as he cupped her face and lowered his mouth to hers. Jesus, she tasted so sweet. Her lips were full and soft with the feel of velvet and tasted slightly from the margarita. Just touching them sent a bolt of lust shooting through him. He licked the surface then drew a line along the closed seam.

  “Open for me,” he whispered.

  And she did, allowing his tongue to sweep inside where it was hot and wet and delicious. He felt her shiver against him and hoped it was from the same electric sensation surging through him. He ate at her mouth, angling his head this way and that, coaxing her tongue to dance with his, mimicking sex with a thrust and retreat.

  Her hands crept up between them until they reached his shoulders, and she gripped them as if they anchored her. She was on her tiptoes, and he banded one arm around her to hold her steady, threading the fingers of the other hand through her soft-as-silk hair. He couldn’t seem to stop kissing her and only lifted his head when his lungs cried for air.

  They stared at each other in the ambient light from the hotels along the beach. Cori looked as stunned as he felt. He brushed his knuckle lightly against her cheek. He had to clear his throat twice before he could speak. “I think we need to take this s
omeplace besides the beach.”

  “I agree.” She swallowed and let out a slow breath. “Come home with me?”

  “Yes. How about right now?”

  Chapter Two

  Cori was silent as they drove away from Duval Street and the noisy crowds. She was still shaken by the intensity of Coyote’s kiss and her body’s reaction to it. She was certainly no shy virgin, although her lovers had been few.

  She’d about had it up to there with the arrogant hot bodies who came to Key West for weekends and thought every female in town was a prize in a box of cereal. She especially disdained the ones who didn’t bother to learn names. Just called everyone babe or sugar or honey. Well, she was very happy with her own company and that of her friends, thank you very much. They could all take their juvenile sexual come-ons someplace else.

  But she didn’t ever remember a man affecting her the way Coyote Cruz did. Even when she’d been drenched by the drink he’d knocked from her hand, her body had reacted to his in an unexpected way. It wasn’t just that he looked so sexy. Okay, so he was six foot plus of lean, hard-muscled body, deeply tanned, with eyes the color of espresso framed by thick lashes a woman could die for. His face had a classic bone structure, finely drawn, and he had a smile that made her toes curl.

  But it was more than that. The moment she’d locked gazes with him something deep inside her uncoiled and sprang to life. Something beyond the sexual heat. Which was why she was breaking her own rule and bringing home a man she barely knew. Someone she’d just met. It was that unexpected connection, that indefinable something sizzling between them that said this was different. She hoped she wasn’t making a huge mistake.

  Before moving to Key West she’d given her heart willingly to another man in the military who took it and squeezed the life out of it. The day he was transferred, they had a hot farewell with promises exchanged. And that was the last she heard from him. Ever.

  But gossip had drifted back to her from others who knew him, remarks he’d made about still looking for that “special” woman. One who understood about his career. Apparently, she was lacking. Somehow she had nothing to offer a man like him to keep him.

  Her friends had argued with her, told her it wasn’t her. That he probably used that as an excuse to keep from making a commitment to anyone. But it still wounded her and made her doubt herself.

  Depressed and needing a change, she applied for the work-at-home position in the software company she worked for and moved to Key West, a place where she had happy memories from trips with her friends. She was lucky enough to find a small cottage to rent, and as she drove over the bridge to the key, she vowed never to put herself in such an emotionally disastrous situation again.

  Don’t lay yourself open emotionally. You haven’t got what it takes.

  Don’t hook up with anyone in the military. They are too full of themselves.

  Don’t take anyone home with you. Go to their hotel or wherever so you can be the one to leave.

  But that first kiss? Lordy, now she knew what women said about the earth moving. And it blindsided her. So here she was, breaking every single one of her self-imposed rules and rather than silently berating herself, she was actually filled with anticipation? What was that all about?

  He’s gorgeous and hot, and the sex will be great. Leave it at that.

  He was being totally up front with her. She didn’t need to start reading anything else into it.

  As if sensing the turmoil inside her, Coyote reached over and stroked her hair, tucking it behind her ear.

  “It’s okay if you want to change your mind,” he said in a soft voice. “We can go back to the Pier or anyplace else you want. Have another drink or two. Maybe even dance.”

  She swallowed hard and shook her head. “No.” The word sounded scratchy so she cleared her throat. “No, I want this. I do.”

  “Okay. Good. But I just want you to know the choice is yours.”

  Damn straight the choice is mine.

  She’d allowed herself to be hurt enough. She wouldn’t put herself in that position again.

  By now, they were at her cottage. She directed him into the driveway next to a row of hibiscus bushes. Cori was glad she’d left a lamp on in the living room so the house wouldn’t be totally dark when she came home. Instead, it looked warm and welcoming. When he turned off the ignition, she sat for a moment, gripped by a sudden attack of nerves. Okay, just sex, but what if he found her lacking? A man like Coyote Cruz had probably had so many women he was in the Guinness Book of Records.

  His warm hand closed over hers.

  “It will be okay, Cori.” That same smooth honeyed tone that melted her inside. “You’re in charge.”

  Crossing her fingers that he meant it, she smiled. “Let’s go inside.”

  The house was a typical Key West cottage, two bedrooms, two baths, ceiling fans. But it had a few things that had attracted Cori. The polished wood on the floors blended with the cool soft pastels on the walls. A small front porch overlooked the street, but the back had a large pergola over the patio with built-in benches. The yard was filled with gorgeous flowering shrubs that she enjoyed keeping trimmed. And the rent was very affordable.

  Coyote looked around, taking it all in. “Great place. Comfortable.”

  “I was lucky to get it. Rentals on the island are outrageous. This is owned by a friend of a friend.” She wet her lips. “Would you, um, like a drink? Or something?”

  He gave her his melt-your-panties smile. “Or something.” He held out his hands. “Come here, Cori. Let me touch you.”

  She moved into the circle of his arms, and his mouth brushed against hers, stirring that crackle of fire inside her body. He took his time, his firm lips scraping back and forth over hers, one hand sliding up her back so he could wind his fingers in her hair. With his tongue, he traced the outline of her lips over and over again, then the seam, until finally she felt the soft pressure of his tongue silently urging her to open for him.

  He tasted even better than the kiss on the beach. The spicy flavor of the beer mingled with the mint of toothpaste and the taste that was distinctively Coyote. His tongue slid gently over hers, the touch like a kiss, first gentle then demanding, and urged her to dance with him in erotic invitation. He fingers threaded through her hair and tilted her head one way then another to give him a better angle. He probed deeper, more possessively. Cori melted against his muscular body, her breasts pressed to his chest, nipples tingling. She could go on kissing him forever.

  One hand slid easily down her back to cup her ass, pulling her against his groin where she felt the hard ridge of his cock. His large cock. Immediately, she felt the pulse in her pussy come to life and her thong dampened with the liquid of her arousal. In fact, it seemed every pulse point in her body suddenly pounded with the ferocity of a jungle drum.

  Her surroundings disappeared along with any rational thought as he kissed the life out of her. His mouth was warm, his tongue scorching, and all she wanted was to become part of him. When he lifted his head, breaking the kiss, she blinked, dazed, bewildered. Was something wrong?

  But Coyote’s smile and the hunger burning in his eyes wiped away any doubts.

  “I don’t think we want to do the rest of this standing up, do we?” His voice was like warm molasses.

  “Um, no. No we don’t.” Cori couldn’t seem to unscramble her brain. She stared at him but he seemed to be waiting for something. “Oh! Oh, this way.”

  She took his hand and, on legs that threatened not to hold her, led him into the short hallway and her bedroom. She’d left a light on in here, too, a bedside lamp on low so the room was bathed in a soft amber glow. Should she turn it off? Leave it on? Did he prefer sex in the dark?

  Could you think more like an idiot that you are?

  She reached out to turn off the lamp, but his fingers closed around her wrist. “Leave it on. I want to see you.”

  He cupped her cheeks lightly and tasted her lips with the tip of his tongue then t
raced a line along her jaw, down her neck, across to the pulse beating at the hollow of her throat. The touch of his mouth there sent shivers skating along her spine. Gripping his forearms, she tilted her head back to give him better access and was rewarded with the brush of his tongue across the upper swell of her breasts.

  When he pulled one of her hardened nipples into his mouth, sucking it through the tank top and her bra, she couldn’t help the little moan that escaped. The nipple throbbed, and her breast ached with painful need. He brought both hands up to cup her breasts in his palms, and she leaned into his touch, wanting more.

  “Let’s get this tank top off, shall we?” His voice still had that low, thick, heated sound.

  Cori reached for the hem to pull the top over her head, but Coyote gently brushed her hands away. “Let me. Please.”

  And when was the last time she’d had sex with a man who said please? That certainly said a lot about the men she chose to climb in bed with. When you deliberately choose men who won’t invade your heart, you give up a lot of other things along with it.

  She raised her hands, and he gentle tugged the material over her head, tossing the garment aside. He stared in hunger at her breasts, covered in the nothing scrap of silk and lace that was her bra. He traced the flesh above them with the tips of his fingers, staring as if he’d never get enough of seeing them, then flicked open the front clasp and dispatched the bra with her top.

  A chill skimmed over Cori’s skin, but it had nothing to do with cold and everything to do with the way Coyote was drinking in the sight of her. He lowered his head and very softly kissed each stiff nipple then scraped it lightly with his tongue. The shivers escalated. She could hardly wait to get to the next step, but he seemed determined to take his time. And was that such a bad thing, compared to men who blatantly made it plain that it was all about them?

  He took a step backward, reached for the button on her shorts, popped it loose, and slid the zipper down in a slow glide. He pushed the fabric down to her ankles, and she stepped out of it, nudging it to the side. And there she stood, wearing only her white silk thong and strappy sandals. His gaze raked her from head to toe then he knelt in front of her, clasped her hips, and licked her pussy through the thin fabric.