Saving Amber - Zoe Dawson Page 0,79

broken loose in him, and every single feeling he’d ever had for her came raging out.

He knew that giving in to this impulse was the worst mistake he’d ever made, and he also knew he was going to pay dearly for it. Because there was no way, not after experiencing the feel of her body molded against his, that he would ever be able to beat down all those long-denied feelings. Never in a million years.

He eased in a painful breath and pressed his face against her hair, saturating himself in every unbelievable sensation. Ooh-rah, but she was a miracle. And he loved her. With absolutely everything in him. He knew he had no business feeling that way, but he did. And nothing—nothing—was ever going to change that.

His throat tight and his eyes burning, he held her head against him, his jaw clenched. If he could, he’d take her right inside him and keep her there forever. She was everything to him. Absolutely everything.

As if unloading some terrible stored-up pain, Amber finally cried herself out, and she turned her head against his shoulder. She pressed her hand against his shirt and whispered, “I got your shirt all wet. That’s bad for the cold.”

He couldn’t resist the urge to hug her, and he gave her a reassuring squeeze. His voice was low and rough when he answered, “I’ll give you a pass this time, baby.”

Loosening his hold, he swallowed hard and rocked her gently against him. He wanted her to get that spunk back, but he understood how it felt to be devastated. Amber never did what he expected. Instead, she nearly knocked his feet right out from under him when she slipped her arms around his waist, rested her head on his shoulder and stayed exactly where she was. She released a long sigh, as if expelling the last of her tears.

With her warm and soft against him, Tristan locked his jaw and made himself take a deep, slow breath, the heat from her body making his blood thicken. Ah, but it felt so good to hold her—so damned good.

He tried to move away from her as he felt her body slackening in sleep, but she tightened her hold on him.

“Tristan,” she murmured softly. “Don’t leave me.”

He melted. All barriers down, he was raw to the bone.

He couldn’t refuse her.

Amber didn’t awaken—she was torn from sleep. In the middle of a dark, disturbing dream, cold, frantic hands had reached into her psyche and pulled her out of slumber. She emerged with a terrible, sickening sensation, only to find Tristan wrapped around her. She was disoriented and weak. Her body ached in several places. Her face throbbed, her ribs protesting and her hip aching. But the feel of Tristan’s strong, hard body was all she needed, the anchor in her storm.

She looked up to find hard, dark rock above her, the smell musty. Her eyes roamed over the walls and a cache of supplies tucked up against a far wall. The ceiling was high, the space almost as wide as the length of Tristan’s living room and dining room combined.

She was reclining on a sleeping bag, with several thermal blankets over the top, keeping in all that delicious body heat that was not only being generated by her naked body but Tristan’s as well.

The air around them was warm and moist, coming from a portable heater that was running on what looked like a small propane tank. Memory surfaced. It was just like the one she had used to warm up and save her life.

Everything was still, a stillness that held something other than simple quiet. Heart bumping hard against her breastbone, she tangled her hand in his hair, reveling in the feel of him. His soft, even breathing soothed her. She hadn’t been sure she’d ever see him again.

Memories came flooding back like a cascade of terrorizing nightmare images. Garza…oh, God. Tristan had come out of nowhere. Simply nowhere. He’d killed another man with a knife.

He’d rammed into Garza, who had been… Amber closed her eyes thinking about what he had been about to do. He couldn’t cow her, couldn’t get her to back down and she’d fought like a madwoman. Used every ounce of training she’d possessed, but she’d been running for so many hours on fear and adrenaline, cold, hungry, parched. He’d had all the advantage.

Her hand tightened in Tristan’s hair and she made a soft sound. His eyes popped open and he had that ready look on