This Side of Heaven tp-1

by Beverly Barton

  Was that how the ancient legend's prophecy would be fulfilled? he wondered, his heart aching with some un­known emotion, his body suffering the tortures of the damned. His need for this woman went beyond any normal desire he'd ever felt, and he seemed powerless to stop him­self from devouring her whole.

  She moaned as her body quivered with response, push­ing, clawing, straining for closer contact. How could she endure much more? she asked herself. Never had such overwhelming desire consumed her. If she didn't mate with this man soon, she would die from the insatiable hunger.

  They drank the sweetness of each other's lips, their tongues dipping, licking, thrusting in a parody of a more intimate act. He moved his hands over her in a frenzied ex­ploration, savoring each new curve, and yet remembering the feel of her as if he'd touched her a hundred times. She clung to him, her fingers in his hair, her nails scratching at his neck, his back, his shoulders.

  Together they sank to the ground, their knees cradled in the gritty sand. He yanked open her blouse, popping the buttons in his haste. Lowering his head, he took one tight nipple into his mouth, sucking her through the sheer yellow lace of her bra. She arched her back and moaned from the sweet ecstasy that was building between her thighs.

  Still kissing her, Nate shoved her onto the ground, strad­dling her, looking down at her, dying with the need to be inside her.

  Cyn felt lost in a world of dreams, so often had she seen those moss-green eyes staring down at her, felt the throb­bing pressure of this special man needing to mate with her and her alone. But this was no dream, this was reality and he had promised her tonight, only tonight. No matter how precious this one night could be, would it be enough? Could she give herself to him and walk away as if nothing had happened? Could he?

  "Nate," she whispered, her hands braced against his chest. She could feel the strong, powerful thud of his heart under her fingers.

  "I want you," he said, his voice ragged with desire.

  "Only for tonight?" she asked, unsure where she'd gained the strength to question their future.

  Stunned by her inquiry in the midst of their lovemaking, Nate hesitated. Still straddling her, he gazed down into her warm brown eyes. "I'll want you forever," he told her truthfully. "But all we'll ever have is tonight. There's no future for us."

  How could he tell her that soon, very soon, he would fight the last battle of his life with an opponent as skilled and deadly as he himself was? If he allowed her to stay with him, to become a part of him, then she would die as surely as she had in his dreams.

  "I want you, Nate. I... I love you." She saw the fires ig­nite and burn in his eyes when she told him that she loved him. "But I want more. I want you to trust me enough to share your problems with me. I want you to let me help you."

  Nate jumped up, grabbed her hands and jerked her up beside him. He reached out, taking her by the back of the neck, bringing her close. Bending over, he kissed her fore­head. "Go away, Brown Eyes. You want more than I can give you."

  She stared at him, not knowing what to say or do. More than anything she wanted to tell him to make love with her, that tomorrow didn't matter, that nothing but the two of them and this moment mattered. But she couldn't.

  He released her. "You'll find someone else, someone like your Evan. A man who owns his own soul.'' He turned and walked away.

  "Nate..."

  He didn't slow his stride, even though she kept calling his name over and over again. * * *

  Cyn stood in her open front door looking across the road at the coquina-and-wooden house. The late-night rain had washed the earth, leaving the world outside coated with fresh moisture. Overhead, streaks of gold-kissed pink hinted at the dawn sunlight still hidden on the other side of the universe.

  She hadn't slept even though she'd gone to bed. After hours of thinking and crying and praying, she'd gotten up. For the past thirty minutes she'd been staring across the road at Nate's house, wondering where he was and what he was doing. Was he sleeping? She doubted it. If he was hurt­ing as badly as she, he was probably wide-awake and curs­ing the day he'd met her.

  Her fearless warrior had reached out to her last night, and she, in her weak need for permanence and fear of the un­known, had turned him away. She'd been a fool. She should have accepted what he offered, no questions asked, and had one perfect night to remember for the rest of her life.

  Was it too late? she asked herself. If she went to him now, would he reject her?

  Cyn tied the belt around her aqua silk robe, walked out­side and closed the door behind her. With her heart in her throat, the rapid beat roaring in her ears, she crossed the road.

  Lifting the heavy metal door knocker, she announced her presence. No answer. Again and again she beat the knocker against the wooden door. Finally, she turned away, but couldn't bring herself to leave. With slow, purposeful strides, she moved along the arched portico to the back of the house. The first tentative rays of dawn light fell across the earth, kissing awake the lush, unkempt vegetation in Nate's garden.

  She saw him, and sucked in her breath. He stood on the rock walkway in the garden, only a few feet from the house. The early morning breeze caressed his hair like a lover's hand, the long black threads whipping his cheeks. He was naked, only the wind and the morning sun touching his flesh as she longed to touch it.

  His body held the scars of a warrior many times wounded in battle, but she knew that the deepest, most painful scars lay buried in his heart, and that unhealed wounds marred his soul.

  Shivers of fear and longing swirled inside her, growing, moving, increasing in strength, as she stood silently in the dawn of a new day and brought the sight of Nathan Hodges, standing boldly, arrogantly naked, into her heart and into her soul. His body was big and bronzed, corded with thick, tight muscles, and it gleamed like polished metal, damp from the rain, slick and sleek. The only hair on his body was nestled around his powerful maleness, and its color matched the midnight black of the long tresses that touched his shoulders.

  Never had she seen anything as beautiful as the man who stood before her, his very maleness beckoning to her, his masculinity calling to her to come to him, to give herself as a sacrifice to his desires, to match him thrust for thrust, hard strength to soft strength, man to woman, in a mating ritual that would join their souls forever.

  Moving almost as if in a trance, Cyn went to him. Nate knew she was there moments before he actually saw her. He had felt her. Already, she had become a part of him. He waited while she moved forward, stopping an arm's length away. Never letting her gaze falter, she stared up at him.

  After hours of restless tossing, he had gotten out of bed and come outside. He'd been waiting for her, knowing in his soul that she would come to him. The sensible, levelheaded Cynthia Porter wouldn't want to come, but romantic Cyn, who believed in fairy tales and myths, would be unable to resist the unearthly magnetism that had claimed them. They were doomed. Whether caught in the spell of some ancient legend or simply overwhelmed by their own sexual needs, Nate didn't know. But he did know that Cyn was his, she had always been his and she would be his forever. As surely as he needed air to breathe, he needed her.

  He watched, transfixed by her beauty, while she untied her belt and slipped out of her robe, letting it fall to the rock walkway beneath her feet. The breeze tousled her hair around her face and shoulders and molded her thin, aqua gown to her round curves. Without saying a word, she reached up and lowered the straps of her gown, one at a time. They dropped down onto her shoulders. Her breasts swelled above the silky material, her nipples pressing against the softness.

  When she reached up to tug on the bodice of her fitted gown, Nate stepped forward, pushing her hand away, re­placing it with his own. With a slow, gentle tug, he pulled the gown down to her waist, baring her full, rounded breasts. He ran the tips of his fingers down the length of her body, from neck to waist, letting his hand still momentarily when he touched her breast.

  She moaned when he flicked her tight ni
pple with his fin­gernail. He jerked her to him, crushing her swollen, throb­bing breasts against his chest. She felt him, all of him, hard and hot and pulsating.

  He was so big, so primitively male, that she shuddered with a maiden's fear of conquest, knowing that soon her body would accept the wild thrusts of his huge body.

  He ran one hand down her hip, over her buttocks, kneading softly, clutching her soft flesh in his callused hand, bunching the silky fabric of her gown. With his other hand, he grasped her head, spearing his fingers through her golden hair, letting it ripple over his hand, his bare shoulder and arm.

  Easing his hand lower and lower, he edged her gown higher and higher, until he was able to slip his hand be­neath and touch her naked skin.

  She ached with emptiness, her femininity pulsing pain­fully with a need only this man could appease. "Please," she whispered, her lips parting on a sigh as his hand moved between her legs to caress her inner thigh.

  "Tell me what you want." He maneuvered his fingers between her closed thighs, dipping inside her damp, sweet body. Her thighs parted, her knees melting.

  "Make love to me." She struggled for breath, then lost it completely when he circled her throbbing need with his thumb and forefinger.

  With one agile move, he jerked her gown down her hips, letting it puddle around her feet like a pale aqua pool. He could smell her heat, thick, heavy, female moistness wait­ing for him to lay claim to it. It was all he could do not to take her where they stood, not to plunge into her with all the violent need commanding his male body.

  He kissed her then, his lips tenderly loving at first as he tried to control the desire raging inside him. She was ev­erything he'd ever longed for—and more. Deepening the kiss, his tongue boldly lunged and was met by the equally powerful drive of her tongue. Challenged by her forceful response, the seeds of a long dormant passion blossoming with an untamed fury, he lowered her down, down, down onto the soft, wet grass. With his knees straddling her hips, he gazed at her naked beauty, devouring her, drinking in the sight of her womanliness. Then he looked into her eyes-warm, rich, brown eyes that had haunted his dreams for twenty-five years.

  He shook with desire, wanting her, needing her as he had never needed anything. He wanted to take her with all the savage wildness he barely controlled, but knew he mustn't allow himself that pleasure. No matter how strong a woman Cyn Porter was, she was also small and fragile and hadn't known a man's possession in a long time.

  Nate prayed for the strength to take her gently, but the moment she touched him and called out his name, he knew he was lost.

  She let her hand rest on his stomach, longing to lower it and take him within her grasp. ''Nate... Nate..."

  In one swift, perfectly coordinated move, he entered her, his thrust hard and demanding, calling forth all the un­leashed passion in her soul. She cried out, so great was the pleasure of their joining, such pure, unforgettable rapture. She arched her body, lifting her hips to meet each vigorous lunge, a shattering crescendo of sensation taking over her body, spiraling out from her core, spreading into every nerve ending, every cell.

  He lowered his head, his black hair caressing one breast while his mouth suckled the other. Tiny fissions of undi­luted ecstasy exploded within her. She writhed beneath him, arching higher and higher, seeking a closer joining.

  Taking her hips into his hands, he lifted her against him and increased the tempo of their lovemaking. "You want more?" he asked, his voice thick with desire.

  "Yes... more." She clung to his back, her nails scoring his bronzed flesh with love trails.

  "Deeper. Faster." His thrusts grew wilder, hotter, more intense.

  "Yes!" she screamed. "Harder... harder..."

  And he obeyed her command, giving her the depth of his hardness. Suddenly she cried out, tears of joy cascading down her cheeks. He listened to her moans of fulfillment, taking them into his mouth, savoring their sweet, undis­guised surrender. She was his once again, as she had been in his dreams, only the reality far excelled the dreams. He felt her shuddering release, her body tightening, clenching him like a tight fist. With one final, brutal stab, he fell headlong into climatic fulfillment. His groans echoed in the stillness of the early morning, their guttural eruption the sounds of a healthy male animal who had claimed his mate.

  Cyn had never known such total wonder, such complete and utter satisfaction. Nothing in her life had prepared her for Nate Hodges's possession.

  His big body lay over her, damp and hot and heavy. He raised himself onto his elbows, looking down into her dazed brown eyes. "Did I hurt you?" He knew he'd taken her with savage force, seeking his own pleasure while trying to give the same to her.

  "No," she said, reaching up to touch his face, a face so dear to her. "But I am lying here in the wet grass and I'm getting cold."

  He smiled. Standing, he pulled her to her feet and picked her up. She shivered, partly from the cool morning breeze on her damp flesh and partly as an aftershock from such unequaled fulfillment.

  "Stay with me a few more hours." Holding her naked body against his, he stepped inside the house.

  "Will you send me away then?" she asked, knowing the answer before he replied.

  "I'll have to," he said.

  "Let me help you. Let me stand by you through what­ever trouble you're in." She kissed his neck as her fingers laced themselves through his long hair.

  "I don't want to talk about it. Not now. I want to make love to you again while I still can." He carried her down the long, dark corridor, kicked open his bedroom door and placed her on his rumpled sheets.

  She opened her arms, taking him into her body, giving her lover, her fierce and lonely warrior, the safety he could find only within her embrace.

  Nate took all she had to give, knowing he would never get enough. But for now, he was satisfied. For now he had found a sanctuary for his heart and soul.

  Later, he would have to send her away. Even if these pre­cious moments were all they would ever have, he could sur­vive as long as he knew she was alive and safe. But if anything ever happened to her, if Ryker harmed her, then Nate knew he would be eternally lost. Cynthia Ellen Porter was his very soul.

  Chapter 9

  Cyn sat on the edge of the bed in Nate's sparsely deco­rated bedroom. She pulled the lapels of her aqua robe across her breasts, then tightened the belt. When she had awak­ened, she'd found her gown and robe on the wooden chair beside the bed. Nate, dressed in nothing but his cutoff jeans, had been standing by the window looking outside.

  They hadn't spoken as their gazes met, and the hot pas­sion that had existed between them in the previous hours ignited once again. She'd been shocked by her own primi­tive need to have him touch her.

  When he had approached her, she'd held up the sheet that barely covered her naked body.

  "We need to talk before you leave," he had said. "I brought in your gown and robe from the garden. Put them on while I fix coffee."

  He'd left her alone then, giving her time to think about what she had done and what she was going to do now. She loved Nate Hodges. That and that alone was the only clear fact in her mind. She had come to him last night, throwing caution to the wind, forgetting everything except the pas­sionate need to become his woman.

  And now, he was going to send her away.

  Common sense told her that she should go, leave him and find a way to overcome the overwhelming desire she felt for him. After all, he was hardly the kind of man she would have chosen for herself. He had spent almost all of his adult life as a navy SEAL, a professional warrior, a trained and highly skillful killer. By his very nature, Nate was a violent man. How could she ever reconcile herself to loving a man capable of destroying another human being with his bare hands?

  And yet, how could she keep from loving him when every feminine instinct she possessed told her that Nate Hodges needed her, more than he had ever needed anyone or any­thing in his life?

  Nate entered the bedroom. He handed her a mug filled
with freshly brewed coffee. "Sugar and milk," he said.

  Accepting the mug, she smiled. "Thanks."

  He sat down in the wooden chair beside the bed. Their knees almost touched. Cyn readjusted her sitting position, moving her legs away from Nate's.

  "Should I apologize for what happened?" he asked, looking at her, trying to gauge her reaction.

  She stared down into the creamy brown coffee. "What happened between us was a mutual decision. I... I came to you because I couldn't stay away. And... and you—"

  "Took you because I couldn't stop myself."

  Jerking her head up, she glared at him, wondering if he regretted making love to her. "You make me feel vulnera­ble, Nate, and I don't like feeling that way. For as long as I can remember, I've always been the one in charge, the strong one, the one others came to for help, depended on to solve their problems."

  "You can't help me, Cyn."

  "So you keep telling me." She took a sip of her coffee, then circled the warm mug with both hands. "But knowing you don't want my help doesn't stop me from wanting to give it to you."

  "For once in your life, let someone else take care of you. Let me make sure you're safe." He bent over slightly in the chair, dropping his hands between his spread knees. "I can't allow you to become important to me. It would put you in danger."

  "I don't understand."

  "The less you know, the safer you'll be."

  Cyn jumped up, the contents of her mug splashing onto her silk robe, staining the aqua material with wet tan splotches. She flung the mug, coffee and all, across the room. With a splintering crash, the ceramic cup broke into pieces and the muddy liquid splattered the wall, then spread down onto the floor.

  "It's too late to shut me out of your life. Haven't you got sense enough to realize that?" She stood in front of him, her intent gaze fixed on his startled face. "I'm in love with you. Whether I want to be or not. Do you think I go around sleeping with men I don't love?"