Ride The Mustang (SEALs Going Hot)
Ride the Mustang
by
Desiree Holt
Book One
SEALs Going Hot
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Ride the Mustang
COPYRIGHT © 2014 by Desiree Holt
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: [email protected]
Cover Art by
Diana Carlile
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Visit us at www.thewilderroses.com
Publishing History
First Scarlet Rose Edition, 2014
Digital ISBN 978-1-62830-416-9
Published in the United States of America
Dedication
To my wonderful editor, Diana Carlile,
who knows how to take an ordinary story and help me turn it into a winner. You rock, Diana.
To Rhonda Penders, who gave me a chance
when no one else would.
To Margie Hager, beta reader extraordinaire. Writing is such a solitary activity. You make
me take myself out of the story and see it
from a reader’s point of view.
To my children, Amy, Suzanne and Steven,
who refuse to read what I write but
promote me to the world.
To my best friend Cerise Deland, who keeps
me sane when insanity wants to take over and
who herself writes incredible stories.
To wonderful friends Samantha Cayto and
Brenna Zinn, who with Cerise are the other cornerstones of SEALs Going Hot.
And finally to all my wonderful readers.
What would I do without you?
PRAISE FOR AUTHOR
Desiree Holt
“Desiree Holt is like the Nora Roberts of erotic romance.”
~USA TODAY Happy Ever After blog
“Holt delivers with delicious love scenes, a believable story and characters you care about. A perfect combination of wit, sexuality, experimentation and romance, it’s over way too soon!”
~RT Book Reviews
“Holt knows how to pace a story. There is a slow build to the first steamy sex scene. Well-written erotica filled with modern-day cowboys.”
~John Rodzilla, Emerson Univ., Boston. The Library Journal
“Though hot and erotic, the love scenes are filled with passion—both emotionally and physically. These scenes are also entwined within the action of the story in a perfect way.”
~Romancing the Book
“Desiree Holt is the most amazing erotica author of our time and each story is more fulfilling then the last.”
~Romance Junkies
Chapter One
Fletcher “Mustang” Call adjusted the straps on his parachute and leaned back against the wall of the helicopter cabin. Inside the Sikorsky UH-60 chopper, the other members of his team were doing the same thing. Although the cabin could hold eleven there were only four of them, all that were needed for this mission. The rest of the space was taken up with litters, folded at the moment and waiting to hold any rescued hostages who might be injured.
The team had studied the layout of the Caribbean island where the hostage was being held until every detail was burned into their brains, marking off the location of the hostage and the escape route through the jungle. They’d only have one chance to do this. The first team would parachute onto the compound, breach the building where the high profile executive was being held for ransom and get him the hell out of there. One of the SEALs in the first group would hustle him through the jungle where Mustang and his team would be waiting while the others held off the rebels until their helo lowered to pick them up.
At least that was the plan. Of course, anything and everything could get thoroughly fucked up on one of these pleasure jaunts. They were dealing with so many unreliable variables. All they could do was plan and plan and plan and then execute. And be prepared for all eventualities.
Of course, that was why they were SEALs, right?
“Fifteen minutes,” their pilot, Drake Shipman, shouted back to them.
Mustang closed his eyes and did his best to settle his mind. The last thing he should be thinking of now was a woman, but unbidden, the latest anomaly in his life danced behind his eyelids. April Coe was so unlike any of the women he spent time with. He worked hard and played hard, with women who knew he was definitely not in it for more than the here and now. And women who enjoyed his particular brand of sex. No emotional commitment. Never again.
Then a voice softer than any he’d heard in a long time turned him upside down.
As always, when he thought of her, the night at the pub in Virginia Beach blasted into his brain. He was just hanging out with a couple of his teammates, knocking back a drink or two celebrating the success of yet another mission. Then Charlie “Iceman” Harris’s girl had come in with a friend and his life was turned upside down.
****
“Hey, guys,” Diane Redington said. She took a moment to exchange a hot kiss with Iceman before urging the woman next to her forward. “You all know my best friend April Coe. Right?”
“Hi, everyone.”
The voice was what did it. Like a warm breeze, it yanked on his hormones and pheromones and testosterones and every other—ones. Mustang jerked his head up to see who it belonged to and was instantly lost. He stared at the vision in front of him, the petite figure, the rich cascade of auburn hair, and the hazel eyes flecked with gold.
“I don’t think we’ve met.” Mustang finally got his tongue unstuck from the roof of his mouth and automatically rose to his feet. “Fletcher Call. Diane, where have you been hiding her?”
Diane laughed. “I guess you’ve just never been here when she’s come out with me. Be nice to her, okay?”
Nice? Nice? What he wanted was to rip her clothes off right then and there. But he reined in his baser instincts. This woman was different than all the others he met. Even those of Diane’s friends he already knew. Just looking at her practically turned him into a blithering idiot.
“Sit down.” Iceman, gentleman that he was, stood up and pulled out chairs for the two women, with Diane beside him and April next to Mustang.
“April works with me at the law firm,” Diane said, looking at Fletch. “She’s a whiz of a paralegal who gets stuck with everyone’s work. I finally convinced her it’s okay to come out on a weeknight. You don’t have to wait for Friday. But be careful. She hasn’t been inoculated against SEALs yet.”
Her actions gave the lie to her joke about SEALs, however, as she leaned into Iceman and they exchanged a kiss that nearly set the table on fire.
“Nice to meet you,” April told him in a voice that danced over his skin like angel whispers.
He finally got his jaw off the floor. “Same here.”
He hitched his chair just a little closer to her, and a subtle fragrance, a mixture of floral and spice, drifted into his space. He was well past the horny teenager stage, but tonight, he sure felt like one. He draped his arm across the back of her chair, barely touching her shoulders, and just that minimal contact zapped his nerve endings. When her full, pouty lips turned up in a smile, his cock sprang to life and tried to hammer through the zipper on his fly.
What the hell?
This was not like him at all. But she had the same innocent but sexy charm as Viv, and the combination was a punch to the gut. He was famous for his iron control at all times, as a SEAL and a man. Yet sitting there, he had an insane desire to strip her naked and do all manner of things to her. He couldn’t help wondering how someone so soft-looking would react to his particular sexual preferences.
Damn!
Don’t do it
, he told himself, even as he inhaled her delicious floral scent.
Before you get in over your head. Don’t do this again.
But she drew him like a magnet to steel, and before he knew it the words tumbled out of his mouth. “How about dinner tomorrow night?” he asked. “Are you busy?”
She tilted her head and pretended to think. “Busy? Let me see. Wash my hair? Or my car? The kitchen floor?” She grinned. “I think I could squeeze you in.”
“Seven o’clock work for you?”
“Yes. That will be fine. Give me your cell, and I’ll program in my information.”
A hum of excitement skittered through him. A real date. Not a hookup or a night at the dungeon. As he watched her slim fingers punch buttons on his cell to program in her phone number, it disconcerted him to realize that, in his efforts to protect himself emotionally, he might actually have become someone he didn’t like too much.
“There.” She handed the phone back to him, biting her lower lip. “I, um, don’t usually jump at an offer so quickly.” She looked at the others around the table. “But Diane’s my best friend and Charlie seems like a really great guy. I guess they’d be your recommendation.”
He was startled. He needed to be vouched for?
Mustang, you’ve been hanging around with the wrong kind of women.
Already he wished it were the next night.
One date, he told himself. One night. Then he’d walk away.
****
What a crock that had turned out to be. She was everything he’d shied away from for the past fifteen years. They meshed on so many levels it astonished him. It amazed him how many shared interests they had and how easy conversation was with her. But April Coe was a forever kind of woman, and he didn’t do forever. Not even a little. He’d vowed never again to open himself up to such emotional pain.
Yet, dumbass that he was, he kept going back. Even thought about taking her for a visit to the Hendersons, the family that raised him after his parents were killed in a plane crash. Maybe she’d like the ranch. Ride horses with him. He could show her the horses sired by the mustang he broke, the one that gave him his name.
Why did he even consider it? Why couldn’t he just break this off like he did with every other woman? After all these years, he hadn’t expected to ever be so vulnerable again, and it frightened him.
Jesus, he was in a pile of shit.
Maybe he should take time to visit the ranch between this mission and the next. He hadn’t been there in a long time. The Hendersons were good about not bugging him, but he owed them a debt of gratitude he could never repay. It just seemed after Viv he shut down on everyone.
Okay. He’d put it on his To Do list. Maybe a few days riding his latest mustang would get his head back in the game.
“Thinking about the sweetest month of the year?” Iceman teased, breaking into his mental wanderings. “The one right after March? First time in forever I’ve seen you trailing after someone with your tongue dragging the floor.”
Mustang grunted and did his best to ignore the remark.
Iceman laughed. “Okay, pretend you didn’t hear me.” His voice sobered. “But take it easy with her, okay? I know how you are with women, especially the ones outside the club you go to. April is different. Not to mention the fact she’s Diane’s best friend. Try to remember that and treat her gently.”
Treat her gently?
“I thought that’s what I was doing,” he snapped.
“Maybe.” Iceman stared at him through his goggles. “But this is the longest you’ve been with a woman in years. I keep waiting for you to break it off. Oh, wait. You’re getting to that point, right?”
“My business,” Mustang growled.
“Except that Diane will be all over my ass if you make a mess of it. I’ve known you a long time. It’s time you finally got rid of that hair shirt you’ve been wearing for years.”
Hair shirt. Was that what he’d been doing? Well, it was no more than he deserved.
He couldn’t remember the last time a woman got to him in any way other than sexually. Anytime he’d allowed it to happen. Not since—Okay, think it but don’t say it. Not since the tragedy. Not since what happened with Viv and his feeling of utter helplessness at not being there when she needed him.
It didn’t matter how many people told him it wouldn’t have made one whit of difference. His anger at himself and the pain went beyond what he’d ever thought possible. A lot of time passed before he was able to finally lock away the compartment in his brain where he kept that memory. And memories of her. It was the last time he gave his heart to anyone. Now he gave only to the SEALs and was damn glad of it.
He had a well-earned reputation as a serial dater, and he liked it that way. No strings. No ties. And if after one or two dates he realized they might not be into his particular brand of sex, he broke it off and spent a few nights at the private dungeon in Virginia. There he could indulge his Dom personality, satisfy his needs without the danger of entanglements. Those women knew he wasn’t looking for anything more than the here and now. And no danger of that dreaded word—relationship.