Free Animal Instincts by Gena Showalter Page A

once. “Yes,” he said quietly. “You want my kisses.”
    “Despite what you said, I think you want more than a kiss. I can’t give more.” Each point of contact between us sent heated blood pounding through my veins like an awakened river.
    Thankfully he dropped his arms to his side and shoved both of his hands into his pockets. “You wanted to give me more. I felt how your body responded. Another minute or two and we would have been on the floor, naked.”
    I didn’t refute it. Couldn’t, for that matter. He would have seen the lie in my eyes had I tried. Desire this intense couldn’t be hidden, and I knew it. “So what?” I said, suddenly defensive. “A girl has the right to change her mind.”
    “You’re right,” he said, using that quiet tone again. “A girl can change her mind.”
    Smart, smart man. Diabolical, but smart. He’d just issued an invitation I had trouble resisting: change your mind again and kiss me.
    “I’m sorry.” I swallowed, forcing the words out. “I’m truly sorry I let things get out of hand. I am not a tease, really.” I twisted the hem of my shirt between unsteady fingers. “I’m not sure what happened to me; I’ve never acted like this before.”
    He pushed a hand through his hair, his body relaxing. “Finally, words I like.”
    I frowned. “What does that mean?”
    His lips inched up in a smug, half grin. “Figure itout. If you’ve never acted this way before, it means I’m the only man—”
    I slapped a hand over his mouth, cutting off his words. Damn me and my big mouth. Why not just admit I was desperate for him, too, while I was at it?
    He pried my hand from his face and I saw he was still grinning. His fingers curled around mine, squeezed, then released me. “If I did it once, you can damn well count on me doing it again.”
    I felt the color drain from my face. He was right. Shit, he was right. Before I had time to work up a good panic, he added, “Get used to the idea of me kissing you, Naomi. Looks like it’s inevitable.”
    “Wanna bet?” my Tigress growled before I could stop her. Well, well, well. She’d finally decided to do something besides purr.
    Challenge gleamed in Royce’s eyes. “You enjoy losing, Naomi?”
    “I wouldn’t know,” I said with bravado. “I’ve never lost.”
    A wicked glint lit his eyes. “Well, sweetheart, I’ll try to make your first experience as pleasurable as possible for you.” His sultry threat rang in my ears long after he strode away and slammed the door.

5
    A Tigress eats, sleeps and breathes power, for it is power alone that sustains her. In the jungle of life, it is kill or be killed. Surprise attack if you must, but kill. Always.
    A S IF MY DAY COULDN’T GET any more surreal—Royce Powell desired me, for God’s sake—I later found myself blindfolded. And not for any type of kinky love play. Kera and Mel had arrived at my apartment and ushered me into the living room, where I’d been commanded to stay until given permission to leave.
    I had refused to obey, of course. So they’d wrestled me to the ground like little monkeys, tied my arms behind my back, blindfolded me and led me to the couch. Here I sat. And sat. For half an hour, at least. With every little noise—was that a fire I heard crackling, or Twinkie wrappers?—my curiosity increased.
    “What are you doing in there?”
    Kera: “You’ll see.”
    Mel: “If you ask one more time, I’ll leave you tied up and give Royce Powell a call. Maybe he can come over and rescue you.”
    She’d do it, too. I scowled, deciding then and there not to tell them about Royce’s impromptu visit and the earth-shattering kiss he’d planted on me—or my own involvement in said kiss. That would only increase their desire to phone the man.
    “You have to let me go,” I said. “I’m starved. Famished. Practically comatose. I’m on the verge of death here.”
    They laughed, the evil wenches.
    “If you die, can I have your bed?” Mel asked. “You