her. He describes his feelings, then his fantasies until their sexual excitement can no longer be contained.
Kathryn wanted that, too. With Coyote.
“Remember at the Taboo yesterday,” she asked, “when you held up your hand?”
“To tease you about my being five votes behind.”
“We surmised each other’s thoughts and feelings.”
His beautiful lips curved into a big, lopsided grin. “That we did, baby.”
Baby. She liked the deep tenor of his voice when he said the word. Deep and familiar.
“And, for the most part, we were right in our assumptions.”
He nodded.
“But if we’d been alone, as we are now, where the only real rule is that there are none, what might you have said to me?”
She smoothed a hand down her damp dress. Funny how she’d scurried down the pier, fighting both the chill of being doused and the cool weather, hunched into herself as though that provided protection.
Yet now her body felt deliciously warm. Almost too much so.
She unzipped his jacket, relishing the rush of coolness against her hot skin.
He rubbed a hand across his jaw, watching the zipper go slowly down before his eyes returned to hers. He lifted his hand, fingers splayed wide as they’d been yesterday.
“I remember a story my mother used to tell, about the mythical Coyote being responsible, in a roundabout way, for people having five fingers. You see, he and the Lizard, who were the very first beings, tried to make humans. But they fought bitterly because Coyote wanted to make them be just like himself while Lizard argued that if they did that, people could never eat or take hold of anything. Eventually, Lizard made people to have five fingers on each hand.”
She paused, then sputtered a laugh. “I set up this fantasy, and you tell a story about Coyote and Lizard?”
He smiled somberly. “My honesty is like the Coyote’s. It’s not always what I do directly in life that makes a difference, it’s often what I do indirectly.”
The moment dragged out so long, she began to wonder if she’d done the right thing. Her entire body might be quivering in anticipation, but that didn’t stop small, betraying thoughts from creeping to the surface. Security, security…
“What does that have to do with—”
“Shh,” he said, holding one finger to his lips, before holding up his hand again. “I’m letting the honesty of my words lead the honesty of my actions.”
Which was what the game was about. Being honest. Sensually, erotically honest.
Something passed between them, something as direct and powerful and potentially combustible as a line of gunpowder leading to an explosive device. She knew he felt it, too, this wild, flammable need ricocheting wildly between them. And the only thing that mattered was satisfying that need.
As though on cue, they shared a smile and whatever last, niggling reservations she had suddenly lifted, like a wisp of fog into the air.
He waggled his fingers lightly in the air, bringing the focus back to his previous topic.
It crossed her mind that he had elegant hands. Brown, long, tapered. Beautiful, really. She’d never thought that before about a man’s hands. But then, Coyote was a man of contradictions. Crafty one moment, open the next. Coarse, then sophisticated. No surprise this tall, dark and impossibly masculine man would have beautiful hands.
“I’m going to tell you how my five fingers represent my five senses.” He held up his forefinger. “The first is for sight.” He looked at her as though memorizing the moment. “I love how you look right now. How the sea has coaxed curls in your hair and misted your skin. It makes you look more alive, more primed.”
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