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