Above them came the booming sound of more falling brick, and it was louder, more terrifying than Amber could imagine. The falling debris hit the top of the desk that was protecting them, nearly startling her right out of her own skin.

They were going to die now.

She had to get out. But she couldn’t budge, he held her too close, protecting her body with his.

“Don’t fight me,” he coaxed in her ear. “We’ve got to stay right here.”

“No,” she gasped, wrestling, listening to the noise of the building crumbling to dust around them, feeling the heat of him as he held her safe no matter how she fought him.

Didn’t he understand? She’d lost it, her prized control was gone, and the greater danger lay right here, in his warm, strong arms. “I need out!” she cried.

“You can’t.” Regret made his voice harsh, but so did determination as he leaned over her, cuffing her hands over her head, restraining her with his superior strength.

“Listen,” he demanded as she silently fought him with everything she had. “Listen to me!” He gave her a little shake. “The building has collapsed on top of us. If you leave the safety of the desk now, when the ceiling of this basement gives…”

Not if the ceiling collapses, but when. He didn’t have to finish his sentence, but God, oh God, she couldn’t bear it, this enforced contact between them. She was plastered to him from head to toe and the opaque blackness only added to the sense of intimacy.

“It’s stopped,” he murmured, relieved, and she felt his cheek brush against hers. “It’s over.”

She waited with what she considered admirable patience, but he didn’t let her go. “Get off me.”

“Promise me you won’t do something stupid.”

Stupid. Oh, that was good. They were going to die when she’d never really even lived. She had nothing to show for her life, nothing except for what would soon be a useless bank account. Now that was stupid. “Let me up.”

“Not until you promise you won’t disturb the balance of things.”

Still helplessly stretched out beneath him, she shifted and discovered he had one powerful leg between hers. Every time she moved, the core of her came in contact with the juncture of his thighs.

She’d been too busy trying to get free to pay much attention, but suddenly she realized she wasn’t the only one who was affected by their closeness.

He was aroused.

He was actually hard, for her. It seemed so absolutely amazing. Surreal.

Later she would blame age-old instincts, but whatever it was, it made her hips arch slightly.

In response, he made a dark sound that shot an arrow of heat straight through her. This was life, came the insane thought.

Go for it. Take it.

She moved against him again, tentatively.

He muttered something; a curse, a prayer, she had no idea which, and at the sound, blind desire overcame her. Before she could stifle the urge, she pressed even closer.

“Your name,” he demanded, letting go of her hands to slide his down her arms. “I need to know your name.”

“Amber.”

“Daxton McCall. Dax.” His hands came up now to cup her face, and a callused thumb brushed over her lips, so lightly she wasn’t sure if she imagined it, but it gave her a jolt of awareness that was almost painful.

Suddenly her world was rocking and she was no longer certain if it was another earthquake or just reaction to the insane sexiness of his voice, his body.

“You’re shaking,” he whispered.

She couldn’t stop.

“Let me warm you.” Gently, tenderly, he scooped her closer, running those big, sure hands over her spine to her hips, bringing her tight against his delicious heat…his incredible erection.

It was wrong to sigh over it; so very, very wrong, snuggling up to a man she’d never even seen. A stranger for God’s sake.

But for the life of her, she couldn’t pull away.

She needed this, desperately. Needed this reaffirmation that they were indeed alive, at least for now.

She was going to live life to the fullest, she promised herself. Every second she had left.

But as a huge thundering crash echoed around them, she couldn’t help but scream.

The walls shook, the ceiling shuddered, and they clung together, holding their breath, waiting, waiting, each second an eternity.

No more chances. This was it.

They were going to die.

3

TERRIFIED, Amber cried out for her stranger, her Dax McCall. She had no idea what she wanted to say, but in that moment, with their world coming apart, it didn’t matter.

He understood. “I’m here, right here,” he told her, his body close so she couldn’t forget.

“It’s so loud,” she cried, horrified at how weak she sounded.

“You’re not alone.”

“I’m scared.”

“Me, too.”

“I need…”

“I know. I do, too. Come here, come closer.” And he enclosed her in a tight embrace that was so erotically charged, she could almost forget she lay huddled beneath a desk on cheap flannel carpeting in the basement of a building that had collapsed above them.

Her face was buried in his neck, and because it was so warm, so indelibly male, she left it there, inhaling deeply the very masculine scent of him. “We’re going to die,” she said against his skin.

She felt him shake his head.

His denial was sweet, but she didn’t want to be protected, not from this. “Tell me the truth.”

“I don’t want to believe it.”

“Neither do I.” It was unlike her to talk to a stranger, much less cling to one. Even more unlike her to admit to her real feelings on anything. But the words poured from her lips before she could stop them. “I don’t want it to end like this. It can’t. I’ve never really lived, not once, it can’t be too late!”

He didn’t say anything about the loss of her calm, cool sophistication, for which she thought she might be forever grateful. In fact, he didn’t say anything at all, he just continued to touch her, maintaining the connection between them.

“Dax, I think-”

“Don’t think.”

“But there’s so much-”

“Don’t.”

“I can’t stop. I can’t turn it off.”

“You’re shaking again.” In his voice was a wealth of concern and compassion, two emotions sorely missing in her life. He worried. He didn’t even know her, and he worried. Just thinking about it had her eyes misting.

How was it that a stranger could care so much for her in such a short time, when no one else ever had?

That was her own fault, and she knew it. Another regret. She didn’t let people in, didn’t let people care. Things had to change.

Starting right now. “I want to live.”

“You’re thinking again.”

“I can’t stop.”

“Let me help.”

“Yes.” Anything.

“Try this…” He angled her head up and met her lips with his.

Far above them, the ceiling groaned and strained under the weight of debris. The ominous, ever-present creaking got louder.

In opposition to Amber’s surging, very real fear, Dax’s kiss was soft, gentle, sweet.

“Stay with me,” he whispered against her lips.

His warm, giving mouth was heaven, such absolute heaven, that she gradually did just as he asked, she stayed with him, lost herself in him, drowning in the very new sensation of desire and passion.

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.