Lora Leigh - Navarro's Promise

One of these days, she was going to ask him exactly what that word meant. She knew it was Japanese, but she hadn’t yet forced herself to learn the meaning of it. If she learned it simply meant friendship, or some kind of child, her ego might be irreparably stripped.

“As long as that punishment doesn’t include invading my shower or anything cold,” she assured him, though she could feel every cell in her body threatening to send out a scent that would attest otherwise.

“Mica, I want to see your ribs.” His voice hardened imperceptibly.

Mica’s nipples hardened.

Just that fast, the thought of him touching her ribs, so close to the swollen mounds of her breasts, and she was becoming flushed with an arousal she couldn’t hide.

Would the water cover the scent?

Heat flushed her face at the thought of being unable to hide the telling scent of an arousal so strong that even now she could feel the betraying slickness gathering between her thighs.

“I’m just sore,” she tried to assure him as her fingers glanced over the area. “Nothing’s broken, just bruised.”

She stroked the curve of her own breast, her fingertips eliciting a wave of pleasure that swept through her entire system.

She would love to have him touch her. To feel his fingers stroking over her flesh gently, his lips touching her, not just kissing her, but stroking against her flesh, covering her nipple, suckling it, licking it.

“I would rather see that for myself. We’re going to be leaving soon. I need to know the true condition of any injuries in order to know how to proceed should we run into trouble.”

Of course he did. Breeds believed in always being completely prepared, often to a level that bordered on the ridiculous. Even her father, an army Special Forces soldier, wasn’t as detailed as Breeds were without even thinking about it.

“It’s fine, Navarro.” She closed her eyes, fighting the need to have him touch her.

“I would like to see for myself that it’s simply a bruise,” he stated firmly. “When you’ve finished, I’ll be waiting for you in the bedroom.”

Opening her eyes and turning her head, she watched as he left the bathroom, the shadow of his tall, leanly muscled physique easing from the doorway.

Pushing her face beneath the pouring water, she debated running cold water rather than hot, but the memory of that icy chill was still too sharp.

As aroused as he had her, still the thought of anything but warmth washing over her sent a wave of fear crashing through her mind. She was afraid the thought of icy rain would only be a fearful thing in the future now, rather than simply something to avoid as it had been before tonight.

Pushing the thought and the memory of that chill to the back of her mind, Mica finished her shower before shutting off the water and wrapping a towel around her sodden hair. Drying quickly, she pulled on a thick, ultra-soft white hotel robe and belted it loosely.

She hoped he had thought to get her more clothes; otherwise, her stay here was going to be pretty awkward, she thought, as she quickly towel dried her hair.

Running her fingers through the heavy, straight strands, she quickly used the blow-dryer to knock most of the dampness out of them. She didn’t want to feel anything cold against her flesh for a long time.

When she moved from the large, luxurious bathroom to the bedroom, she came to a slow, hesitant stop as she saw Navarro sitting on the bed, his gaze directed to the e-pad he was scrolling through as he waited on her.

His head lifted.

Eyes as dark as the black of night stared back at her silently, unblinkingly.

Mica cleared her throat as a wave of nervousness washed through her.

He’d changed clothes. Sodden black mission pants and the lightweight black shirt were gone. In their place perfectly creased, obviously pricey black jeans and a white long-sleeved cotton shirt tucked snugly into the band. A black leather belt cinched his hard waist, and on his feet he wore obviously expensive leather boots.

Never let it be said that Navarro Blaine didn’t know how to dress, and how to dress well.

His hair was pushed back from his face, falling to his nape, and the thick, heavy strands invited her fingers to explore and play.

It was as straight as her own, though thicker, heavier, the midnight color such a rich, glistening sheen it looked blue in a certain light.

“Are you finally warm?” He laid the pad aside as he rose to his feet, the primal, animal male grace he displayed nearly stealing her breath.

“Warm enough.” Tucking her hair nervously behind her ear, she tried to fight back an attraction she had no hope of defeating.

“You’ll need to take off the robe.” His gaze flickered with something, some almost hidden heat that had her heart suddenly racing between her breasts.

“I don’t think so.” There wasn’t a chance in hell she was pushing her libido that far.

Rather than removing the robe, she untied it and carefully eased it from one arm while holding the abundant remaining material over her breasts. Revealing her side, she knew why his eyes suddenly narrowed and his lips thinned.

The dark bruise, a vulgar, spreading stain from the impact of the Coyote Breed’s boot against her side, from the area beneath her arm to just below her breast. It encompassed her rib area and had already turned a vivid, ugly black, an assurance the bruising went clear to the bone.

“I can see the bruise much better if you remove the robe,” he assured her, playfulness entering his voice.

“That and much more.” She stared straight ahead and simply concentrated on trying to control the betraying dampness of her juices gathering between her thighs.

His fingertips brushed against her flesh.

“Why do I have a feeling you’re lying to me?” he murmured as he glanced back at her teasingly.

Mica rolled her eyes mockingly. “Let me guess, you smell it?”

He actually chuckled, a dark, deep sound that played across her senses with a stroke of pleasure. “You’re actually rather good at hiding it, but my sense of smell isn’t the same as other Breeds. I imagine it has something to do with the recessed genetics.”

Her brows arched. “You can’t smell things as the other Breeds do?”

“Your fear was rather sharp tonight, as was your pain . . .”

“No kidding. I should have guessed. Cassie’s dad’s sense of smell wasn’t very good either because of his recessed genetics.” There was a sense of relief so sudden she barely held it in.

She hadn’t expected recessed senses as well, though she knew she should have. Cassie’s father, Dash, had had recessed senses until he mated Cassie’s mother, Elizabeth. His sense of sight, hearing and smell had been better than normal, but they hadn’t been at Breed level.

With that knowledge came another, relieving thought.

Perhaps Navarro couldn’t sense her arousal.

He couldn’t smell the liquid heat gathering between her thighs.

This was good. This was actually much better, she thought. If he couldn’t smell it or sense it, then perhaps she could pretend it didn’t exist.

Yep, that was her, the ostrich.

“I don’t think it makes you any less effective though.” A sense of hope cheered her a little. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about every emotion, every want or need revealed to him as easily as Cassie seemed to pick it up. “And really, you don’t have to be able to smell a person’s emotions. I think it’s highly unfair that Breeds have those senses anyway.”

Perhaps, just maybe, because of that, she could defend herself against this attraction, this fascination rapidly spiraling out of control.

Navarro knew he should feel at least a shade of remorse for not completing his sentence and assuring her his sense of smell was actually more advanced, despite his recessed genetics, than most Breeds. After all, she couldn’t smell his lie as he could hers. She couldn’t smell his hunger for her, as he could smell hers. And she hungered. She was lightning hot, flaring with peaks of arousal and making him insane each time she flared.