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

into the freezing, silt-filled water with his hands tied behind his back, knowing full well he’d drown, to escape the mosquitoes.”
    She arched a brow in disbelief. “That’s some tall tale.”
    He stared at her for a long silent minute, and then stepped back and sprayed himself down, adding a healthy coating to his hands and wiping the stuff onto his face and neck, making sure he covered his ears too. She started to rethink her need for bug spray. He did live here. He wouldn’t be messing with her, would he?
    “Fine, give me that.” She exchanged the paddle for the can and gave herself a light dusting.
    He smirked and packed the can in the backpack he carried. “Let me know when you need some more.”
    “What? Are there vamp mosquitoes out there?” Geez. She wasn’t that naive.
    He ignored her and positioned the canoe to launch. “Go ahead and get in. Face the front, and I’ll give us a push.”
    She climbed in, her arms flaying wide when the canoe rocked under her feet and quickly took a seat. She gulped. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.
    “Here’s your paddle.” Lynx handed it back to her. She took it not knowing what he expected her to do with it. Maybe she should have let him finish his never-ending list of rules.
    But how hard could it be? People canoed all the time.
    Lynx stepped in behind her. She dropped the paddle as the canoe rocked back and forth with his movements. Luckily it landed between her legs and not into the river.
    There was a sound of them sliding on sand. She glanced back to see him using the paddle to push them out into the rushing current. The canoe easily flowed with the water and picked up speed. Her hands tightened on the edges.
    “Grab your paddle,” Lynx said from behind. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those women who expects the man to do all the work.”
    She arrowed him a look, and he laughed when she picked up her paddle and dipped it into the water.
    “The water’s fairly calm here, so get the feel of how stroking the paddle directs the canoe. Stay on the right,” he instructed when she picked up the paddle to stroke left. “Think of this like sex.” His voice purred, raising goose flesh on her arms. “Sex is best when we find a rhythm and stroke deep.”
    She swallowed hard, visually seeing him above her, her hips finding his rhythm as he stroked deep within her. He had to purposely be doing that. He didn’t teach everyone to canoe using words like that. Just how many other women had he canoed with? He’d said that awfully smooth.
    “We need to work together or we’ll just spin in circles. I’ll stroke from the back left, you front right. Find the rhythm.”
    She began to feel the difference when she wasn’t fighting him and matched him stroke for stroke.
    “There you go.”
    She felt a thrill at his words, and the hair rose on the back of her neck. He had such a seductive voice, and with him behind her giving her instruction, it left her feeling vulnerable, needy. Normally not something she liked. She liked being in charge. Hell, taking charge. But it was actually nice knowing he was back there, directing them. Steering them on the correct course.
    She began taking in her surroundings. The water lapped by the base of the canoe, the cutting of the paddles causing eddies to swirl in the clear water. She thought she saw a fish swim by and wondered what kind it was. Birch leaves tinkled like jewelry as they brushed each other in the slight breeze. A huge bird soared not making a sound as it glided above them.
    “Is that—?”
    “A bald eagle. You’ll see lots of wildlife on this trip. The Chatanika River is prime habitat for birds and animals.”
    He set an easy pace, one that gave her the chance to see what was flowing by them. The air was crisp. The sun warm on her skin, and there didn’t seem to be another soul around but them. The beauty of the place stole her breath.
    “Stunning,” she whispered.
    “Yeah,” he agreed as though he was in church. But then this was spiritual in a way. God’s church. “Look left.”
    She followed where he pointed and saw a beaver rush up the bank, slapping its flat tail as though to scare them off. She laughed, realizing as the sound escaped her that it had been a long time since she’d felt this free.
    The water slowed more.
    “Rest your arms,” Lynx recommended.
    She turned to see him with the paddle straddled across the canoe.
    “When we flow around that bend ahead the water is going to