Beverly Barton - This Side of Heaven

"It's us. You and me and the mission. And this beach. Oh, Nate, tell me what kind of trouble you're in. You need me. I can help you."

He took her mouth with the savagery of a man pushed beyond the limits of his control. Holding her close, Nate conquered her lips with unrelenting pressure, impaling her soft moistness with his tongue. Without really knowing anything, she already knew too much. She had sensed the truth as surely as he had. If he couldn't find a way to pre­vent it, Ryker would kill them both inside the old mission and drag their bodies onto the beach... the way the ancient conquistador's enemy had done.

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.