Wild Men of Alaska 04 - Wild Men of Alaska - Four Book Bundle

slash at him, getting close, but never close enough. There were many things he could teach her. First, she needed to take the emotion out of the fight. It made her sloppy. This he knew she was aware of, but couldn’t seem to stop herself, which gave him hope. It didn’t help when his smile widened as her scowl deepened.
    She jabbed, and he took a step into her attack, deflecting the strength of her blow, though she did get in a lucky lick of the blade to his forearm. He twisted, wrapping his arm around her middle, hoping to cage her in, but she was quick and side-stepped him, kicking him in the back of the leg. He went down on his knee, and she had him by the throat, her chest to his back, knife at his jugular in one hand and her arm tight around his neck.
    “Nicely played,” he murmured right before he flipped her over his back onto the bear rug.

    Bastard.
    This was the second time today Sergei had knocked the wind out of her.
    Kate gasped soundlessly like a bear-flung fish hurled onto the shore. And then Sergei’s body crushed hers into the fur, his forearms digging into her biceps, his heavy thighs anchoring her legs so she couldn’t kick him again.
    The ache to fill her lungs consumed her. Her head pounded, her fingers burned with the shallow cuts, and the upper ribs in her back smarted from the toss over his shoulder. All of this was his fault.
    “A knife is a very intimate weapon,” he drawled over her, his breath a spicy mix of coffee and cinnamon.
    Oh shut the fuck up , she wanted to hurl back at him, and would have if she’d had the air to do so. Spots circled her vision, and for a minute she wanted to give in. Fearing she’d wake up tied to a chair again had her holding onto a thread of consciousness.
    “Let it go, Katja.” His fingers squeezed around her wrist like a vice.
    Her diaphragm stopped spasming, and air rushed like a wave into her starving lungs. She gasped, clawing her fingers and trying to cut at his hold on her wrist. He swore as she nicked him, and he twisted the knife free of her bloodied fingers. He flung the blade up to the ceiling where it embedded itself into a log beam.
    “Vhat else do you have hidden?”
    He cupped both of her hands together in one of his while the other snaked under her shirt. His rough palm splayed over the sensitive skin of her stomach as though daring her to object.
    He couldn’t mean...and why couldn’t she stop urging him on?
    “Get your hands off me,” she gritted out through her teeth.
    “Tell me vhere the knife came from? I patted you down.”
    Like a spy gave up her secrets.
    “Fine, have it your vay.” He yanked up her top until it covered her face, sheathing her in shadows.
    She could see nothing, but felt the heat of his eyes as they took in her bare torso. Only the custom black bra covered her breasts...then she felt his deft fingers dive into the cups. She squirmed in his hold.
    “Stop,” she ordered, “or so help me I’ll—” Her muffled warning had no effect on him.
    “Vhat? You’ll kill me? Getting old, Katja.” He clicked his tongue when he found the razor blade taped between her breasts. “I knew these things were dangerous.”
    She growled, and he chuckled.
    Carefully, he peeled the tape with the razor blade off her skin, smoothing down the chafed area with his fingers.
    Why was he being so gentle with her? The hand holding hers together was locked tight, but not painful. His body restraining hers was heavy and hard, but not smothering. It was like he was doing everything he could not to hurt her, while she was doing the opposite.
    She didn’t like the comparison.
    He was a killer. Dangerous, sinful and sexy in that dark way mothers warned their daughters against. His touch on her breasts as he continued to see if there was anything else hidden, was almost...worshipping. He could have stripped off her bra, manhandled her, bruised her, and yet...he hadn’t.
    Her nipples beaded, mortifying her.
    Don’t notice, don’t notice.
    His fingers brushed over the peak of one and halted.
    “Katja,” he whispered her name. His fingers hovered over her aroused nipple, and the pebble tightened and hardened further.
    She felt him grow heavier on top of her. This was bad. She didn’t want to be here again. Didn’t want his touch, didn’t want to be consumed with him. She...did...not.
    Was that the brush of his lips over the flesh above her bra? The caress was so slight she wasn’t sure if it was him or a sudden draft in the