Reel Trouble: Wild Women of Alaska by Tiffinie Helmer

tastes amazing.”
    He uttered a sound as if he was in acute pain and she glanced at him as she reached for another leg. “You okay?”
    “Oh, yeah,” he said, his voice dark and raspy. He seemed to grapple with something before reaching for a crab leg.
    She swallowed another bite. “I can’t believe how good this tastes.”
    “Uh-huh,” he mumbled around a mouthful.
    Her gaze was caught by the way his jaw moved back and forth as he chewed the succulent meat. He had the sexiest jaw she’d ever seen.
    “Hey, you shaved.” Though he still sported a darkening shadow of stubble this late in the day.
    “Thought I should clean up a bit for company.”
    “You didn’t have to. I like the…rough look on you.” Oh good hell, what was she doing? Flirting, really? Her? She never flirted.
    “I’m plenty rough where it counts.”
    She gasped in a breath. Rough . She needed rough. Hot and hard, bang-your-head-against-the-headboard rough. She’d been listening to that kind of sex for weeks. Good hell, she really should have taken care of her needs herself before being alone with him. It had been too long since she’d had a release, and never a release like the rough promise in Treat’s gaze. How would it be to lie with a man who wasn’t afraid of her? She didn’t think Treat would be gentle. Not with those big, thick calloused hands that were a testament to fighting for what he wanted.
    “Are you going to eat?” Treat rumbled.
    Her eyes flew up from his fingers where they clutched the handle of the mallet. This was it. Did she take what she wanted? To hell with what she should do and just reach for what satisfied? The longer she looked at Treat the tenser he became and the darker his eyes got, until they churned like a tempest mirroring the storm roiling through her.
    “I’m too hungry to eat.” She pulled her napkin free from where he’d tucked it into her collar. The act freed another few buttons and left her shirt gaping open, allowing a view of her lacy red bra. It seemed to break something in Treat. He tugged his napkin free, and in another motion, he stood and yanked her into his arms, his mouth swooping down and smothering hers.
    Tastes exploded on her tongue, sweet butter, sharp lemon and something darker, more tempting than any decadent dessert. The taste of Treat himself. He breached her lips, his tongue diving into her depths until it was impossible for her to catch her breath. She clutched at his shoulders as her knees buckled. He took her weight and swiveled with her in his arms away from the table. In a few steps, he had her in the bedroom. She was beginning to love not only small towns, but small boats. They were both extremely efficient. She liked efficiency.
    Treat locked her against him as he lowered them to the down comforter. His heart pounded like a sledgehammer against her breasts, and she melted against him. Her legs wrapped around his hard thighs, her arms linking under his arms and hooking over his shoulders. She wanted to become part of him.
    He struggled to free her of her clothing, swearing as he fought with her belt.
    “Careful,” she warned, grabbing his hands. “Better let me.” She pushed him off to undo the belt herself, as it was loaded with her duty Sig, mace, Taser, knife, and cell phone.
    Treat leaned back against the pillows and watched as she wriggled off the bed and stripped out of her boots, belt, and pants. Her movements slowed as she realized how intent he was in observing her every movement. When she was finally standing in front of him in her lacy, red bikini underwear, her button-down shirt still partly fastened with the red bra peeking out, he held out his hand. “Stop. Let me.”
    Her hands stilled on the button just below her breasts. Treat rose to his knees and crawled across the bed toward her. He reached behind him, grabbed a fist-full of his t-shirt, and pulled it off. Wadding it up, he tossed it into the corner. Her breath caught as she got an eyeful of his