“I need you, Mica.” Dark, a rough rasp of hunger against her ear, his voice stroked over her senses. “Do you remember how good it was, Amaya, at the hotel? How it hurt to stop?”
Of course she remembered. She would never forget.
“It could be that way again.” He was moving. He was moving her, though she wasn’t certain where until she felt her rear meet the hard, smooth wood of the buffet that sat at the side of the room.
“The bedroom,” she whispered, forcing her eyes open to stare back at him, almost gasping at the sight of the Breed now standing between her spread thighs.
His face was tight, savage with lust; his black eyes gleamed like polished onyx and glowed with a hidden fire. Jaw clenched, his hands gripping her hips, his hair falling around his face, he looked like a sex god rising before her.
And she wanted him. She wanted him until her entire body felt on fire.
She swallowed tightly. “Is it the heat?” Mating heat. Was he her mate and their bodies just hadn’t quite caught up yet?
“Not heat.” His hands gripped the hem of her sweater.
Mica didn’t fight. She couldn’t fight.
God, he hadn’t even kissed her yet.
Lifting her arms, she let him draw the light cashmere from her body before he tossed it carelessly to the floor beside them. Next, he flicked open the front clasp of her bra, drew it from her and tossed it to the floor as well.
Licking her lips, Mica told herself she wasn’t disappointed.
“You’ll break my heart.” She could already feel the grief beginning to churn inside her. “When you leave me, when you find your mate—”
And those were the last words he allowed her.
CHAPTER 8
Mica had dreamed of Navarro over the years. She’d had fantasies, she’d made up daydreams, and she had imagined every way possible that he could touch her. If there was a touch she hadn’t felt, a response she hadn’t imagined, or a position that he hadn’t taken her in during those fantasies, dreams and daydreams, then Mica couldn’t find it in all the years she had been fantasizing.
But this, the way he was making her feel, equal parts erotic courage and sensual fear, she couldn’t have imagined she could ever feel anything like this.
She hadn’t felt this way the night she had lost her virginity, or at any time before or since.
As Navarro’s fingers threaded in her hair and pulled it back, a low moan dug into her chest and her lips parted as his tongue stroked against them.
The nettled sensation of his fingers tugging at her hair sent a wash of echoing pleasure through every nerve ending in her body. Then his tongue pressed past her lips, found her tongue, and stroked.
It was there again, that hint of honey. Just a taste of it, so subtle and light it almost wasn’t there. But added to it was a taste that reminded her of a midnight mist in the mountains. It was dark, seductive. It eased into her senses rather than tearing through them. His lips slanted over hers, his tongue stroking, licking, possessing her as Mica felt her hands moving up his chest, to his neck, burying themselves in his hair and holding him to her as though she were terrified he would stop.
She needed this. How could a woman need a kiss as though it were food or drink, if it wasn’t mating heat?
Her tongue licked at his again as his stroked over hers. Tightening her lips on it, she could feel his surprise as she suckled at it delicately for the few seconds he allowed her.
From there, the kiss became equally as playful as it was lustful and driven.
With each second that their lips stroked and played, Mica could feel her pussy growing wetter, spilling to the sensitive folds and her swollen clit, moistening her panties.
Her body was preparing itself, knowing what was coming. Knowing the stretch and burn would be eased by the heavy slickness.
Arching against him, she tried to wrap her legs around his hips, add the exquisite pressure of his cock throbbing against her, even if it was separated from her by the denim she wore, for the moment.
Because she knew this was going to happen. After all these years, all the fantasies, all the years of wishing, hoping and fearing, it was going to happen.
His fingers pulled from her hair, causing Mica to give a low, desperate moan. The sound of it shocked her, almost pulling her from the sensual undercurrents beginning to swirl around them.
The feel of his calloused fingertips stroking against her back stilled the little edge of fear. Lifting to him as much as possible, distantly thanking God and Ely for the shot the doctor had given her for the bruised ribs and the pain they caused. Because the pain wouldn’t interfere now. It wouldn’t break through the haze of pleasure or affect the swirling hunger.
It allowed her to wrap her arms tighter around his neck, to lift closer to him.
“Navarro—” The protest was torn from her as his lips slid from hers, though she dragged in much needed air, almost gasping as his lips slid to her neck, caressing down the sensitive column and over the reactive flesh of her shoulder. Once he reached the rounded curve, his teeth nipped with a sensual roughness that had her back arching and her breath panting.
Nerve endings sizzled in exquisite delight at the rough rasp of his teeth, her lashes fluttering helplessly as she fought to open her eyes, to find her balance amid the sensations spinning rapidly out of control through her body.
“I love the taste of you.” The primal sound of his voice sent wracking chills of pleasure racing up her spine. “So sweet and hot, Mica. You could easily become my addiction.”
His addiction, but not his mate.
The flash of pain that clenched her chest was confusing but did little to stifle the rapidly building need burning through her.
She ached for him. She’d been aching for him for years.
His lips moved from her shoulder blade, spreading slow, heated kisses and hungry licks along a path that would lead straight to the straining tips of her breasts.
If she could wait long enough for him to complete his journey. The hunger beginning to twist through her threatened all that careful, certain control she’d had over herself for all these years.
“You make me dizzy,” she whispered breathlessly as his head lifted, his gaze so dark, so velvet black and intent she felt as though she were sinking inside it.
“Just dizzy, my Mica?” Guttural, rasping with arousal, his voice was deeper, more animalistic than ever before.
Mica let her lashes drift over her eyes as she fought to block out reality, to block out the thought of morning when it came, and Navarro’s mate when he found her. To block out the thought of the pain she would feel when she lost him.
She had the moment, the here and now. And here and now he was hers, and he wasn’t pulling away from her.
It was going to happen, she could feel it. Navarro was hard, insistent, his entire being centered on having her. She could stop him, but she would be the only one that could do it. And she didn’t have the strength to even attempt it. The will to push him away, to have him stop touching her, stop wrapping her in such incredible pleasure, was unthinkable.
She was helpless against him now, needy, as hungry for his touch as he seemed to be for hers.
Her hands moved from his hair as his lips returned to her. His palms cupped the sides of her breasts, the pads of his thumbs raking over the tender tips of her nipples as his lips devoured hers once again. Slanting across hers, his tongue pressing between, possessing her mouth as the subtle sweet taste of honey tempted her senses with a promise of more of its sensual sweetness.
Lost in the rioting sensations rushing through her system, Mica was only barely aware of being lifted against him, the lightest twinge of discomfort in her ribs quickly forgotten as Navarro held her to him and took the few long strides to the opened door of her bedroom.