WILD MEN OF ALASKA

chapter TEN

For one glorious night two long years ago, Sergei had worshipped her body, labored over her for many hours, until she responded with just the slightest touch, look, a mere whisper of words.

She lay naked before him again, yet tied to his bed. Defiant.

Bozhe moi, how he loved her. And she’d hate him for what he had to do next. By the green fire shooting at him from her eyes, she already hated him. She’d come to kill him, but she hadn’t. There’d been a couple times she could have, and for whatever reason she hadn’t taken the kill. Did he dare hope that she didn’t hate him as much as she wanted to?

Guess he was about to find out.

When he finished his search, she’d surely hate him afterward. He’d be violating her, but then she’d attacked him time and time again, and the latest attack had been her last. The tracking device had him returning to the bed after stripping off her jeans.

She could have another device hidden anywhere.

The act of touching her naked skin again had blood boiling through his veins and hardening the region of his body he didn’t think could get any harder.

He sat beside her on the bed and started with her arms. Slowly he smoothed his palms from her tied wrists up to her shoulders, feeling for anything taped to her skin and examining her for injection sites were a micro chip could have been inserted.

“You don’t have to do this,” she said. “I have nothing more concealed on me. You’ve taken it all.”

His eyes met hers, and he swallowed at the anger and dread reflected there. “You’ve forced my hand, Katja,” he returned softly.

She looked away. Her skin flushed, turning a rosy hue, and goose bumps appeared under his fingers. Inwardly he groaned as her nipples tightened to buds. Buds he wanted to lick and suckle.

He had to keep this quick, impersonal, clinical, for the both of them.

His hands traveled over her shoulders, around her neck, and under her hair. Even believing that nothing could be planted in her hair, he fanned the strands over his pillow, the red vibrant color like flames against the icy white of his pillowcase. Her eyes shuttered closed as his fingers gently traced where her neck met her spine, and he took a moment of her not watching him to scrutinize her expression. Eyes shut and lips parted, her breathing became shallow as the tips of his fingers tenderly trailed forward from her neck and around the delicate shell of her ears. He spent a lot of time there remembering how sensitive her ears were.

Some things hadn’t changed.

Her pulse quickened at her throat, and it was all he could do not to cover the area with his mouth and lick his way down—

He couldn’t think this way.

Over her collarbone and down the sides of her ribs, his hands continued as he tried to shut down his physical responses to finally touching her again. Two years had been a long time to go without. Kate had been a hell of woman to try and get out of his system. After a few lack-luster attempts with other women, he’d done some serious soul-searching, and realized how much Kate had meant to him. It didn’t matter that they hadn’t spent a lot of time together in the classical sense of getting to know one another. Sometimes a man just knew.

Heart recognized heart.

He ventured closer to the sides of her breasts, wanting to cup them, caress them, nibble them. But there was nothing to search that his eyes couldn’t see, and she wasn’t packing anything around these beautiful breasts anymore. There was nothing tapped or strapped, or pierced to mar the perfection of the aureoles with their tight dusky peaks.

He started to shake.

His hands splayed across her stomach. She sucked in her breath, and he flicked a glance back to her face. Her eyes were wide, her lips swollen from being nervously bitten. He locked his gaze with hers, as his hands caressed over her belly down to the sides of her hips.

What he wouldn’t give to grab those hips and thrust his body deep into hers. She recognized the need that had to be reflected in his eyes, for the shock of it had her trembling under him.

He didn’t hold anything back. He let all his frustration, his want, his love for her show through, praying that she’d somehow understand and be able to forgive him for what he was about to do next.

Kate hated him.

Hated what he was doing to her, what he made her feel. How could she want him until she shivered with it? Part of her rejoiced in being tied up, the choice he was taking from her. Finally she’d be with him again, experience the ecstasy only he’d been able to call forth from her body.

For the last two years she’d been consumed with him. Vengeance had been her religion. She understood the need for retaliation. This yearning, she did not. She felt betrayed by her own body. If anything, Sergei tying her up and strip-searching her should fuel her hatred and need to kill him. But all she could think about was his touch, how he’d felt between her legs, deep within her body, and how long until he would be inside her again.

His hands clasped her hips, and she couldn’t help the slight arch of them. Oh hell, what was she doing? She couldn’t enjoy this. What kind of woman did that make her?

An animalistic sound from deep within him reverberated throughout the room causing her blood to burn in her center and melt toward where she wanted him most. Instead of his hands searching her depths, he cupped them under her buttocks, his fingers clenching around them, his eyes closing for a moment, before he splayed his hands up her back. Searching for any abnormalities on her skin that she knew he wouldn’t find, his movements brought him closer as he leaned over her, cradling her within his arms as his hands smoothed up her back to her shoulders. His nostrils flared, and her inner muscles clenched in response. His lips were mere inches from hers. The kiss he’d given her downstairs had been shocking. She hadn’t expected that he would desire her after all this time. Why would he when he’d already gotten what he’d wanted from her during that night in Afghanistan?

But he wanted her now. She could see it, feel it in the very air vibrating around them, and her body responded in ways she wished she could shut down.

His hands caressed down her spine back to her hips, his fingers curling around the front, pausing before tracing the line from the tops of her thighs to the heart of her sex.

Oh God, she was not going to make it.

Why hadn’t he gagged her too? She bit hard on her bottom lip, trying to keep in the appeal for him to take her, ride her hard, give her some sort of release.

His fingers traced her folds before dipping into her wet center.

“Oh, Katja.” He groaned as though in torment, his head falling forward, his hair grazing the sensitive skin of her stomach.

Unable to stop her herself, she shifted her legs, giving him more room to probe her further. Deeper. She arched her hips into his hand, wishing for him to deepen his stroke.

“F*ck.” He suddenly growled and surged off the bed. Grabbing a quilt that was draped over the leather chair next to the fireplace, he covered her with it before slamming out of the room, leaving her there writhing with want.

Oh yeah, he was a dead man.

Sergei unscrewed the top of the vodka bottle with a shaky hand and slung back a huge swallow.

Bozhe moi, he’d barely made it out of the room without burying himself inside her. He’d had to know that she wasn’t packing anything else that could kill or maim him. He hadn’t taken into account her body alone was enough to do him in. And what he’d just done set back any chance he had of reconciling with her. That is if there had ever been a f*cking chance to begin with.

He took another swallow, relishing the burn of the bitter liquid down his throat. Recapping the bottle, he set it on the table. He’d need more vodka when he returned. She’d had a tracking device on her. There had to be more somewhere. He’d already shredded her snowsuit and boots. And since he’d stripped her bare, after finding her deceptive—brilliantly constructed—bra, that left her base camp.

He opened the door from the kitchen and went outside to gather more wood. The weather had already turned blustery with the storm front moving in tonight. Cold slapped him, dropping things back down to size in a flash. He hadn’t bothered with a coat, and wood bark scraped his forearms as he gathered logs. Once back inside the cabin, he banked the fire downstairs to burn slow and even and then headed upstairs.

A deep breath and a stern pep talk to himself not to get near the bed, he entered the room. Kate hadn’t moved, but then how could she when she was trussed up like she was? The temptation she offered almost buckled his knees. Her eyes were slumberous, the jade having deepened to granite and heated with fire. She probably wanted to kill him even more now. Luckily the quilt covered her nakedness, but her image was tattooed into his brain, and it took some prodding from him to head to the fireplace rather than join her under the covers.

He started a fire—another fire—the one in his blood had flamed again being in the same room with her, and added more logs.

“The room vill varm soon,” he said, standing and facing her. This woman scared the hell out of him. “Is there anything else you need?”

There was a pause as she gave him an incredulous look. “Yeah, you could untie me.”

Well, he’d asked. “I am leaving for a few hours. The fire vill keep you varm. Might be good to get some rest. You’ve...exerted yourself much today.”

“Where are you going?” She frowned.

“I need to find your campsite.”

“It’s dark out there.”

“Dah, and cold too.”

“So, you’re just going to leave me here. Tied up?”

“Dah.”

“I can go with you.”

“I don’t trust you not to kill me. You’ll stay here vhere I know you’ll be vhen I return.”

“Sergei, you can’t leave me tied up like this.” She struggled in her bonds, and the quilt slipped, revealing a plump breast that tempted him to either stay and entertain himself with her or untie her and take her with him. Both decisions could be his last. He walked to the bed and covered her up, tucking the quilt in around her, and checking the knots.

She wasn’t going anywhere.

“Don’t hurt yourself vhile I’m gone. Rest.” He smoothed hair out of her eyes and turned to leave.

“Sergei...”

He turned at the door.

He could see the worry in her eyes, but was it for him or herself? Most likely herself.

“Don’t get yourself killed,” she said through clenched teeth.

“I thought you wanted me dead?”

“I do, but by my hand, not by some wild animal or freak of nature.”

“You are not in the best position to still be threatening me.”

She narrowed her eyes.

“Tempt me to stay,” he threw out before he could bite it back. What the hell. He’d never have her thinking different about him if he didn’t bare all that he felt about her. It wasn’t like she could hate him more.

“There is nothing at the campsite except my supplies hidden within a backpack. You’ll never find it in the dark.”

“How about giving me the coordinates?”

“How about I don’t?”

His lips twitched. He loved sparring with this woman. Whether physically or verbally, she was a challenge. And he was always up for a challenge. There was another part of him standing at attention too. “Be back soon, Katja. I hope you vill think on vhat ve have done and spoken of vhile I’m avay.”

Then he walked out the door before he was tempted to stay and forget the world in her bewitching body.

A smile slid over his face when she hollered his name with insults about his mother and his ability to think straight. He hurried into his gear, knowing she wouldn’t do as he’d asked and rest, though she’d need magical powers to free herself of the bonds he’d tied her with.

Just as he would never be free of the bonds tying his heart to hers.