Mica had to forcefully restrain the urge to tighten her thighs, to ease the ache in her clit. The delicious, heady burn there was pleasure and a grinding ache. The need to clench her thighs on it was nearly overwhelming.
And there he stood, the reason for it, so damned male, so damned confident. And all she wanted from him was a touch. His hand stroking her, his lips covering hers. Just one more time.
“You’re so self-conscious,” he said then, pulling her out of the almost inebriated state she had been sinking into at the thought of him touching her.
“You’re so crazy.” She stepped back again, wishing there was some way to keep him from detecting the smell of her arousal.
“Yes I am. You would be, Mica, if you had any idea how soft your scent is, like silk and roses. And just how f**king hot it makes me.”
Her knees went weak. Mica swore they went weak. They wanted to melt and take her right to the carpet beneath her feet.
“A strong breeze makes a Breed horny,” she said, scoffing, hating the fact that from what she’d seen, that was close to the truth. They were very highly sexed, and very highly sensual.
Their sex drive was hard and driven, and the men at least had no problem whatsoever going after what they wanted. And the way he was looking at her now? Oh yes, he definitely wanted.
He chuckled at that. A low, wicked sound that had her stomach clenching with a tight, hard punch of sensation. Damn him, she didn’t want to feel this. She didn’t want to ache like this. The implications were too strong, the hunger was becoming something she knew she should be wary of.
“I would say it takes slightly more than a hard breeze,” he murmured as he moved closer.
“And I would say you’re simply playing with me.” Dropping her hands from her hips, Mica moved away from him, keeping a wary eye on him as she stepped back. “You know there’s nothing to this, Navarro.
This isn’t a mating.”
And she should be happy about that. She was happy about that, she assured herself as she watched him carefully.
“Does it have to be a damned mating?” That flash of irritability was unusual enough in him that Mica’s gaze sharpened on the pitch-black of his gaze, watching the glimmer of something in those dark centers as he stepped forward again. “I’m sick of hearing about a mating, Mica. It doesn’t have to be a mating to make a man want a woman until his dick is spike hard and his balls torturously tight. Does that feel like I’m playing with you?”
His hand moved to the belt of his jeans, jerked it loose, and within seconds he was toeing off the ankle boots he wore and sliding the denim from his body.
Unashamed. She had always known he would never be the least uncomfortable, or the least defensive, in baring his body.
And why should he be? Hard muscle, corded strength, and the thick, so thick, heavily veined, engorged flesh of his c**k spearing out before him as he quickly unbuttoned and shed the white shirt he wore.
Naked, powerful. He was the quintessential male animal, literally. Dark-skinned, as though he had lived his life in the sun, the golden sheen giving the hard muscle beneath a rippling effect as he moved.
Like the dark, powerful Wolf he shared his genetics with, he moved with predatory grace and primal sexuality. Intent glowed in his black eyes and transformed his expression from wickedly sensual to completely sexually dominant. And it should have terrified her.
It had her pu**y creaming, her ni**les hardening, her womb contracting with a hard, sensual spasm that shouldn’t have felt so damned good.
Before she could have moved, even if she had wanted to, before she could have avoided him, he crossed the distance and caught her wrist. She couldn’t avoid him; there was no way to guess his intentions until she found her palm cupping the tight sac of his balls. Heated, the silken, tiny hairs that covered the flesh gave it a sensual rasp against her palms.
Weak. Yep, her knees went weak; she might have actually lost her breath as her head jerked back to stare up at him.
She couldn’t break away, and she tried. She tried to force her fingers from the intimate position, but instead they curled against the heavy weight, testing, cupping as she fought to hold back a pleasure-filled moan.
“Does that feel like a game, Mica?” His head lowered, his lips brushing against her ear as he spoke.
“Feel how hard you make me? Do you know I can’t remember ever being this damned hard in my life.”
The feel of his breath against the sensitive shell of her ear, the lightest brush of his lips, and she swore her juices were ready to pour from her pu**y.
“Don’t do this to me.” She hated the thought of begging, she really did. “Don’t hurt me like this, Navarro.”
She was going to pray he had a conscience, that the plea, whispered with a voice roughened by the hunger tearing through her, would force him to back off.
“I would never hurt you,” he promised as his lips nuzzled against her ear, the hand lying over her fingers urging her to caress the sensitive flesh as he sent electric thrills of pleasure chasing from the lobe of her ear across her body.
Her ni**les hardened to the point that the rasp of her bra over them was an exquisite ache of pleasure. She was ready to clench her thighs, her muscles were tensing in preparation, when he suddenly pushed the heavy width of his thigh between her legs, as one hand cupped her bottom and pulled her closer, tighter against the muscular limb.