by Jill Shalvis
A sound escaped her, a mere whisper of the pleasure starting to thread through her body. He soothed and assured, both with that magical voice and even more magical hands, kissing her again and again, until shyly, eagerly, she opened to him, only to jerk at the resounding thunder of more falling debris.
"Shh, I'm here," he murmured, then dipped his head again.
The shock of his tongue curling around hers was a welcome one, and Amber pressed closer, grateful, desperate for more of the delicious distraction. One of his hands continued to cup her face, stroking her skin, the other drifted down her body, curving over her bottom, squeezing. He rocked her slowly, purposely, against his hips.
But when the ceiling made yet another terrible straining sound, she cringed.
"No, don't listen to that." Now his clever mouth was at her ear, his words sparking little shivers down her spine. "Stay with me, remember?"
As their world crumbled around them, Dax was right there, commanding her attention, drawing her out of her fear. "Listen to the blood pound through your body," he murmured, pressing his lips to her temple. "Listen to the sound of our breathing … do you hear it? Do you?" he urged, willing her to let go of the terror to concentrate on what he was making her feel.
It worked, and when she felt his hot, wet mouth on her skin, she gasped and arched up into him.
"Listen to your body craving mine…"
Oh yes, yes she heard it now, the blood whipping through her system as he tasted her. She heard the sound of his low, rough groan when she writhed against him. Knowing she was causing his harsh, ragged breathing gave her an incredible sense of power. "More," she begged. "Help me forget that we're going to—"
Die, she'd been about to say, but he simply swallowed the word and kissed it away. He kissed her mouth, her face, her throat, all the while using his hands to stoke the fire. Her blouse fell open beneath his hands, and he treated her breasts to the same glorious magic, sucking and nibbling and stroking her nipples until she begged for more.
The rest happened so fast that afterward she could never fully recall it except as a hazy, sensuous, haunting dream. She tore open his jeans; he shoved them off his hips. He slid his hands up her skirt, groaning when he came to her thigh-high stockings, her one secret luxury. She might have spared a moment for embarrassment, but then he whipped off her panties and slipped his fingers between her thighs, dipping into her wet heat. Touching, stroking, claiming her until she couldn't think of anything but getting more.
Penetration wasn't easy, it had been a pathetically long time for her, but Dax slowed, teasing her aching, swollen flesh with his knowing fingers until she was ready to take him. He was huge, hot and throbbing inside her. Unbearably aroused, Amber tossed her head back, lifted her hips and sobbed as unfamiliar sensations rocketed through her. She was on the very edge, teetering, madly trying to regain her balance, but he didn't allow it.
"Let it happen," he whispered, his fingers teasing and urging and tormenting. "Come for me, Amber. Come for me now."
The pleasure was so intense she couldn't have held back if she'd wanted to. She was wild, completely out of herself, as the orgasm took her.
And took her.
It was endless. Above her, she felt him convulse, heard his hoarse cry, then they fell together, trembling, their hearts pounding violently.
Amber had no idea how much time passed before Dax lifted his head and stroked the damp hair from her face. "You okay?"
She thought about it and smiled. "Yes." Crazy as it seemed, she was definitely okay.
Wrung out by their hollowing, grinding, shattering emotions, they dozed then, still locked in each other's arms.
* * *
"Are you taken?" The minute the words fell out of her mouth, Amber winced. Stupid. And if she hadn't so neatly cut herself off from socializing all these years, she could have done better. "I mean—"
Besides her, Dax laughed softly. "I know what you mean. And no, I'm not married, I never would have made love to you otherwise."
They'd made love. Good Lord.
And they'd had two more aftershocks. They sat side by side, still beneath the desk. Mortified as Amber was over what they'd done, Dax had refused to let her leave the safety of their meager protection.
"Not that I have anything against the institution of marriage in general," he offered. "But I come from a huge family. Five meddling sisters and two equally meddling parents. Ten nieces and nephews. Tons of diapers and messes and wild family dinners." She felt his mock shudder.
It had always been just her father and herself, so Amber could only imagine the sort of life he described. But family or not, she could understand his need to be alone, uncommitted. She herself was alone most of the time, and greatly preferred it to the alternative. Letting someone in meant letting someone have control over her, which was not an option.
She'd had enough of that to last her a lifetime; first with her father, who'd been almost maniacal in his desire to curb her every impulse, and then she'd repeated the cycle with her ex-fiancé.
She didn't intend to make that mistake again, ever.
"I plan to settle down in another twenty years or so." Dax's voice had a smile in it. "Maybe when I'm forty. Just in time to have a double rocking chair on my porch." Then his amusement faded away. "That's my hope anyway."
If I live.
His unspoken words hung between them. "They'll worry about me," he said after a moment, very softly. "I hate knowing that."
She could hear the deep, abiding love he had for the people he cared about, and wondered what it would be like to know she was unconditionally loved that way.
"How about you?" he asked. "Who do you share your life with? Who's missing you right now, worrying about you?"
She opened her mouth, but had nothing to say.
"What? Too personal?" He let out a little laugh and nudged her. "What could be more personal than what we've already done together? Come on, now. Share."
"No one."
"No one what?"
"There's … no one."
He was quiet for a moment. Probably horrified. "I have a hard time believing a woman like you has no one in her life," he said finally, very gently.
It shocked her, the way he said "a woman like you." His voice held admiration, attraction, tenderness.
Under different circumstances, she might have laughed. The truth was she'd been a wallflower nearly all her life. Only when she'd struck out on her own, ruthlessly devouring magazines and books on fashion and style, had her appearance changed so that no one could actually see that wallflower within her. To the world, she appeared cool, elegant, sophisticated.
Apparently she'd fooled him, too.
"Amber?"
"I think you know I don't have a lover," she said quietly. "Not recently anyway." She ducked her hot cheeks to rest them against her bent knees. "No attachments."
She could feel him studying her. Could feel his curiosity and confusion.
"There's no shame in that." He slid a hand up and down her back.
No, maybe not, she thought wearily. But there was in her memory. "I was engaged once," she admitted. "Several years ago. It didn't work out." She didn't add she'd discovered her fiancé had been handpicked by her father, drawn to her by the promise of promotion. That Roy had used her to further his military career, instead of really loving her as she'd allowed herself to imagine, had been devastating.
So had her father's involvement.
Of course he'd been bitterly disappointed when she'd backed out of the arrangement. She'd failed him, and he'd made that perfectly clear.
Well, dammit, he'd failed her, too.
After that, Amber had hardened herself. Being alone was best. No involvement, no pain. She believed it with all her shut-off heart.
"I'm sorry." Dax reached for her hand, but at the pity she heard in his voice, she flinched away.
"No, don't," he whispered, scooting closer, feeling for her face to make sure she was looking at him. "I'm sorry you've been hurt,
but I'm not sorry you're alone now."
She had no idea what to say to that.
"Don't regret what happened here, between us. I don't."
It was difficult to maintain any sort of distance when the man was continually touching her with both that voice and his hands. He was so compassionate, so giving, and he was doing his absolute best to keep her comfortable, all the while filling her with a traitorous sexual awareness.
For the first time in her life, she wondered if she'd judged her mother too harshly. It wasn't a thought that sat well with her.
"Amber?"
That was another thing about him, he refused to let her hide, even from herself. "I won't regret it," she promised, knowing they were going to die anyway. "It would be a waste to regret something so wonderful."
"Yes, it would."
"I don't want to die." She hadn't meant to say it, but there it was.
The words hung between them.
"The ceiling is holding," he said after a moment. "The desk has protected us."
Yes, but they would be crushed soon enough. The ceiling above them was still making groaning noises and no amount of reassurances or placating lies could cover that up. They knew from Dax's careful exploring that one corner of the office had collapsed under tons of dirt and brick. They now had half the space they'd had originally.
Suddenly Dax froze.
"What—"
Dax put his fingers to her mouth. "Shh." He sat rigidly still, poised, listening. "Hear that?"
She tried. "No."
He surged to his feet, banging his head on the desk. He swore ripely, apologized hastily, then crawled out and shouted.
"What are you doing?" Amber demanded, fear clogging her throat. He'd get hurt, something would fall on him.
She'd be alone.
Always alone.
She didn't want to die that way.
"Someone's up there," he told her with a shocked laugh. "They're looking for us. Listen!"
Then she heard it, the unmistakable shouts of people.
Joy surged.
She was going to live after all. She was going to get a second chance.
And thanks to Dax McCall, this time around she'd make the most of it.
* * *
It took hours to rescue them from the building, but eventually Amber was standing in the asphalt parking lot, blinking like a mole at the fading daylight.
Hard to believe, but they were okay. They were alive. And while they'd been trapped, life had gone on, business as usual.
Well, not quite. Southern California had suffered a six-point-five earthquake.
Amber turned to look at the small crowd of police officers and firefighters surrounding her perfect stranger, and she suffered her own six-point-five tremor.
Dax McCall was tall, lean and built like a runner. No, like a boxer, she amended, all sinewy and tough. Big. It was hard to discern the color of his hair, or even the tone of his skin, covered in dust as he was, but to her, he was stunningly, heart wrenchingly gorgeous.
He was her hero, in a world where she'd never had one before.
But that was silly, the stuff movies were made of, and she was mature enough to realize it. He was human, and she had no need for a hero in her life. Nor for a huge, warm, strong, incredibly sexy man. Still, she stood there, pining after him, allowing herself for one moment to daydream.
I plan to settle down, he'd said. In another twenty years or so.
She'd do well to remember that.
Yes, this had been an amazing episode in her life—literally soul-shaking. The way he'd held her, touched her, kissed her, as if she'd been the only woman on earth, was something she'd always remember.
But it was over now, and he wouldn't want to cling to the moment. In fact, he was probably already worrying about how to let her down gently.
That wouldn't be necessary.
Oh, he was kind, gentle, tender. Some woman had certainly taught him right. Probably many women. But Amber had no desire to be the flavor of the week, and he had no desire for more. He'd made it abundantly clear that he wasn't into commitments. So really, there was only one thing to do, after she thanked him—cut her losses and leave.
Getting him alone proved difficult. Their rescuers had circled him and were deep in conversation, so she waited. Around her was the eerie silence of a regular day. Trees barely moving, sky clear and bright. Little traffic.
But it wasn't a regular day. Suddenly feeling claustrophobic, more than she had while trapped in the basement, Amber knew she couldn't stay another moment. Vowing to thank him in person later, after a hot shower, a good meal and a very private, very rare, pity party, she got into her car.
Taking control of her emotions and actions felt good. Still, her heart gave a painful lurch as she buckled in. Before Dax had finished giving his report to the police, she was gone, assuring herself she was doing the right thing by leaving.
A part of her, though, a very small part, knew the truth. On the outside, to the world, she was tough as nails and cool as a cucumber. Inside, where she allowed no one, she was one big, soft chicken.
And when she put her foot to the accelerator, it was the chicken who ran.
* * *
Chapter 4
« ^ »
One year later:
Dax led his very pregnant sister off the elevator of the medical center and headed toward the obstetrician's office.
Suzette kept tripping over her own two feet, making him sweat with nerves. She was going to do a swan dive on his poor, unborn nephew or niece, he just knew it. "Please," he begged, holding her arm tight, tempted to sweep her in his arms and carry her himself. "Be careful!"
"You'd trip, too, if you couldn't see your feet." But loving being pregnant, she grinned at him. "Don't worry, I won't go into labor on you."
"I want that in writing," he muttered, glancing at her huge, swollen belly. He'd delivered a baby before, during his firefighting days, when the paramedics hadn't arrived in time. It had been miraculous, awe-inspiring … and terrifying.
"Oh relax." Without mercy, Suzette laughed at him. "I feel great."
"Relaxing around you is impossible."
"Really, I'm fine. Except for a contraction every two minutes."
Now he tripped, and she laughed again. "I love you, Dax."
She kept smiling at him, with huge, misty eyes, and he immediately slowed, slapping his pockets for a tissue, knowing from past experiences she was going to get all sappy on him and cry. "Dammit, Suzette."
"I'm fine. Really." But she sniffed and blinked her huge, wet eyes. "You're just so sweet. So much a part of my life. And sometimes I can't help but think about how we almost lost you to that earthquake."
Dax started to shrug it off, but she stopped, planted herself and her big belly in front of him, and said, "Don't act like it doesn't matter, don't you dare. If you hadn't been talking to Shelley just before you stopped to check out that building, no one would have known where you were. We never would have found you in time."
Because she was getting herself worked up, and making him very nervous while doing it, Dax tried to soothe her. "It worked out okay—"
"You know darn well it almost didn't! The ceiling of that basement completely collapsed on itself only an hour after they got you and that woman out."
That woman.
It had taken him all year, but Dax had managed to steel himself against the white-hot stab of regret he always felt at the thought of Amber. The pain had finally, finally, started to dissipate.
"What if we hadn't gotten to you in time?" Suzette demanded. "You could have died, Dax. And you're my favorite brother."
"I'm your only brother."
Suzette just shook her head and sniffed again. But he was tired of obsessing about the earthquake, and what had happened between him and Amber. It had invaded his thoughts, his life, his dreams for too long now. It was over. Over.
"Those hormones are really something," he said, but he handed her a tissue. "Are
n't you tired of crying yet?"
"Nope, it feels good." A big fat tear rolled down her cheek. "Thanks for driving me here."
"Just as long as Alan makes sure to get off for the birth. I am most definitely not available for the coaching job."
He was teasing her and they both knew it. He'd do anything she needed, and for just an instant, for one insane little spurt in time, Dax thought maybe he wouldn't mind being a coach at all.
"Someday this will be you," she said softly, bringing his hand to her belly so that he could feel the wonder of the baby's movement.
"Not in the near future," he said, but he spread his fingers wide, feeling the miracle beneath; moving, growing, living.
"It will be," Suzette promised. "Someday, some woman is going to snag you, make you forget why you like being single. Trust me on this."
Without warning, the memory of lying huddled beneath a desk, waiting to die, holding the frightened but courageous Amber hit him, hard. That day he'd prepared himself for a hysterical, whiny female, but she had surprised him with her inner strength, her quiet resolve to survive.
He'd been drawn to her on a level he couldn't have imagined. Compared to his wonderful but flighty sisters, and the wild bombshells he had an admittedly bad habit of dating, Amber had seemed like a startling breath of fresh air.
He'd wanted, badly, to see her face, and for the first time in his life, it hadn't been to determine if she was as sexy as her voice. He'd wanted to look into her eyes and see for himself if the connection between them was as real as it felt.
In those terror-filled moments, when they'd been so certain the end had come, they'd come together in the dark; desperate and afraid, hungry and needy, joining together to make unforgettable, perfect love, without ever having set eyes on each other.
It had been poignant, amazing … necessary. As necessary as breathing.
The image of Amber exploding in his arms wasn't new; it was never far from his mind. What they'd shared had been incredible, as soul-shattering as the earthquake had been, and he couldn't forget it, no matter how hard he tried.
And yet Amber obviously had.
Despite his best efforts to find her, she'd vanished. He'd gotten an all-too-quick glimpse of her that day, and though she'd been nothing like the women he usually found himself attracted to, he'd thought her short, sleek, dark hair and even darker eyes the most beautiful he'd ever seen.
