Page 28 of Thaw of Spring (Knife’s Edge, Alaska #2)

“Yes.” She was tired of half living. Tired of being scared.

Life could end in a second, and right now, she had a fully aroused and hotter than Hades male in the shower with her.

One she not only wanted but definitely liked.

She scratched her nails down his torso and nearly moaned. God. So much muscle and strength.

He grasped her wrists, pulling her free.

Irritation clocked through her, and she jerked her head back, staring at him. “You want me.” It wasn’t like he was hiding his rather impressive, okay, very impressive, erection.

“Not like this.” His tone sounded final but the red filling his handsome cheeks showed a guy fighting himself. “Not because you’re grateful.”

“Oh.” She half laughed, feeling suddenly warmer. Much. “I’m not that grateful, Christian.” He still held her wrists, so she stepped into him, skin to skin. “I’m tired of fighting us. This. Whatever it is.”

His hold loosened.

Encouraged, she stayed right where she was. “I’m glad we’re both alive. What if we weren’t? What if the river had won?”

“I wouldn’t have let the river win. Nothing hurts you, Amka.”

Those words. She was a modern woman who owned her own business. She didn’t take orders from anybody. But those words and that tone. They shot a need through her that should’ve shocked her. Should’ve warned her.

It was too late for shock or warning.

A slight shudder ran through him. She swallowed and leaned in to bite beneath his pec. “Stop fighting yourself.” Giving in, she licked up to his neck, tasting salt and fresh water. His hold on her wrists tightened, and the small bite made her gasp.

He released her, moving suddenly and tangling his fingers in her wet hair, dragging her head back. “You don’t know me.”

Another warning? “I do.” She tried to tug free and didn’t move.

Why that shot need through her faster than adrenaline had ever flowed, she’d never figure out.

“I know you, Christian,” she whispered. “You try to stay distant, and sometimes you do, but if one of your brothers needs you, you’re there.

If I need you, you’re there. If someone in the town needs you, you’re there. ”

“Not all of me.”

Now those words did catch her. She stopped and looked up at his brutally carved face.

“I know,” she whispered. And she did. She saw when he’d had enough and needed to be free.

To be out in the wild, where sometimes he belonged.

“I like you the way you are.” She’d never know where those words came from, but she meant them.

He blinked. Just once. Then he moved, his fist tightening in her hair, his other hand going to her hip and lifting her. Her butt hit the smooth rock wall and he stepped into her, his forehead lowering to hers. His eyes blazed pure fire. “You sure?”

She couldn’t breathe. Somehow, she was ready for him. Right now. “Yes.”

His mouth dropped to hers, hard and fast, while he began pushing inside her. Slow. Measured. Taking his time and letting her soften around him in increments. How was she ready for him that fast?

Holy crap. She closed her eyes and kissed him back, her knees automatically pressing against his flanks. Pain ticked through her and she murmured, so he deepened the kiss, taking her over, throwing her out of her mind.

He overwhelmed her, keeping her in place.

Finally, eons later, he was fully embedded inside her, his mouth still working hers, his strength obvious.

She moved, needing more. Wanting him. He more than filled her, and she wanted him to move now.

He did.

Not gently. Not hesitantly. Like a man who’d been holding back for too long and finally had permission to let go.

His hand stayed locked in her hair, the other gripping her hip with brutal control as he pulled back and drove in again, deep and deliberate. She gasped, her back arching against the wall. Slick rock met her spine, but all she felt was him, heat, power, and hunger.

He made no sound, but his body spoke loud enough. Every thrust was a declaration, every grind a confession. He wanted this. Her. All those times she’d caught him looking at her, watching her at the tavern, as if he wanted to be right here.

She had felt his intent.

The pace built fast. Each stroke carved her open and filled her back in, pushing her higher, stretching the tension tight, and then even tighter. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, then slid down his muscled chest. It was all she could do not to come apart right there.

“Christian,” she whispered, or maybe begged. She wasn’t sure. Didn’t much care.

He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, his breath ragged, his mouth damp from hers. “I’ve got you.”

He slammed into her now, sharp and rhythmic, the kind of force that stole thought, breath, past and future. Her body curled around him, legs trembling against his hips, held aloft only by his strength and whatever the hell this thing was between them.

Pressure built, spun, twisted. She tried to hold it. Tried to make this moment last longer. But he drove her mercilessly toward the edge, each stroke hitting some secret part of her no one else had ever found.

She shattered.

The climax wasn’t sweet or soft. It was fierce. A raw, burning contraction that shook her from the inside out. Her vision blacked at the edges, and her body seized around him with a cry torn from the deepest part of her. She might’ve said his name again. Might’ve sworn. Might’ve sobbed.

He didn’t stop. He cursed low and sharp in her ear, the sound of a man fighting for control and losing.

His rhythm stuttered, then locked. One final thrust. And with a guttural growl, he followed her over, hips pressed tight, his body shaking against hers like the storm hadn’t stopped, just moved inside them.

Silence fell.

Not from peace, but from aftermath.

He held her there, pinned and panting, his face against her neck, his lips brushing a soft kiss against her jugular that spiraled down to her heart.

She swallowed and dropped her head, right between his neck and shoulder, her body shutting down. Still there, with the shower beating against him and the steam swallowing them both, with him holding her. She relaxed and fell right into a peaceful sleep.