This Side of Heaven

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 nipple 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