Conquering Zeus (SEALs On Fire) by Cerise DeLand Page B

days, his only thought had been her safety as their Apache gunship had been crippled by the renegades—and the two of them had sprinted together from one hut to another in the sprawling village. Eating MREs, she drank her special meds and gained strength. Still, by the time they joined his Arapaho team and all of them rendezvoused with another gunship crew and they winged their way to a carrier, she was exhausted—and Zeus cared enough to visit her two or three times a day in sickbay.
    He had even sought her out a month later in Washington D.C. where she recuperated at her parent’s home. Then, last month, he’d been eaten up by curiosity to learn if what he’d detected in D.C. in her manner was the lure that had him tossing in his bed at night, waking up with world class hard-ons, wanting only her.
    Shit. What a dreamer he could be.
    Go have a cold one. Forget her.
    He headed for the house, his toes squishing on the murky ocean floor. Scanning the length of the beach, he saw no one. No woman. No dog, either. The solitary stroller could not have disappeared along the dunes in so few minutes. Maybe she had ducked into the house next door while he was otherwise occupied, mooning over Kim. Fine by him. She wouldn’t mess with him. Few men did, let alone women. He hadn’t earned his nickname Zeus because he looked like a pushover.
    Swiping water from his pecs, he trudged toward their Spanish hacienda. Moonlight conspired with the big brazier lights burning on their rental’s deck and infinity pool to cast beams along the shore. He raked back his shoulder-length hair along his scalp, ocean water sluicing his chest and groin, the humid air of Key West warming his massive body. Shaking the drops from his arms and fingers, he marched past the pool house. Picked up his pager from the table top. And stopped.
    Someone watched him.
    He knew it. His night vision was superb. His senses, keen. Humans had a sharp sense of being watched—and a SEAL was trained to find anyone who stalked him. Zeus raised his nose to inhale and listen. Wet dog. Panting. Forty yards to his left.
    Zeus turned toward the animal. He narrowed his gaze, noting the size of the canine that pranced toward him. Sixty pounds of fun, the mutt sported a white chest, brown fur, and paws the size of dinner plates.
    No. Can’t be. But it is Harry.
    Zeus stood still as Harry’s companion rose to her feet, clumsy in her effort, then brushed sand from her hands. His heart, thumping from his midnight swim, did a little cha-cha as he watched her emerge from the shadows of the cabana.
    Kim.
    “Hi, there,” she said, as if he had known all along she was here in Key West.
    Too surprised to answer, too smart to say anything until she gave him a clue about what she wanted from him, he let her come to him. Let her stand in front of him, assess him and smile. Let that dimple tempt him and make him yearn to put his lips on hers. Every time he saw her, he wanted that mouth on his. That strong lithe body all over his. Minus the clothes. Tonight, he wanted her minus the polka dot sundress that dipped low to her navel and cupped ripe breasts he needed to see and suck. Ah, yes. She had a knack, this one, for worming her way further inside his brain. Keep In Mind. Kim.
    She waved a hand to indicate his very wet, very naked, very aroused body. Then in an accent that was a mash up of all-American girl with crisp English boarding school, she asked, “Will you invite me into your house so that we can talk or do you just want your dangly bits to freeze and fall off in the night breeze?”
    Articulate and precise, her words tickled his funny bone and he was determined to give as well as he got. “As you can well see, my bits are not dangling.”
    She tipped her head to one side, her moonlit pale hair billowing in the updrafts. “Hmm, do they ever?”
    “When you’re around, they’re ready for duty.” His cock got even harder, his balls grew tight and revved for action. He clamped