This Side of Heaven

'I want you so much, I'm hurting.' She reached out, trying to undo his belt and was startled when he pushed her hands away. 'Nate?'

'I want you aching even more.' He ran his hand be­tween her thighs, delving his fingers through the tight blond curls and between her moist folds. 'I want you so wet and hot and throbbing that you'd do anything to have me in­side you.'

She moaned, squirming beneath the knowledgeable strokes of his fingers as he fondled and petted her sensitive flesh. Beginning at her breasts, Nate aroused her to a fever pitch with the repeated licking and sucking motions of his mouth and tongue as they created a fiery path downward. He eased her legs further apart, his kisses coating the inside of her thighs.

She writhed beneath him, her body responding to his every touch as if it had never known a man. And indeed, Cyn thought, her mind dazzled by torrid sensations, every time with Nate was like the first time. Powerful. Hungry. Lustful.

His mouth covered her intimately. She groaned.

He tortured her, bringing her close to the edge, then re­treating, returning to bring her to the edge again.

She grabbed handfuls of his shiny black hair, trying to pull his marauding mouth away. 'Please... please...'

Raising his head, he looked at her, satisfied by the wild look in her eyes, the passion-drugged expression on her face. Inch by inch, he edged his body upward until he covered her, then he raised himself on his elbows, lowered his head and took one peaked nipple between his teeth.

Cyn cried out from the pleasure. Her body was so sensi­tized that a mere touch shot through her with aching inten­sity. 'Now!' she cried out, gripping his buttocks in her hands, clutching the soft fabric of hirtrousers.

Nate jerked his zipper open, shoved his slacks and briefs down below his hips and rammed into her with shocking force. He felt her buck beneath him, heard her loud moans, and smelled the strong, heady aroma of her womanly scent. He wanted to ask if he was being too rough, but he was too far gone to be capable of speech. The world condensed to include nothing except the two of them—her body, his body, the fast hard thrusts of his manhood, the answering undu­lating rhythm of her femininity.

Sweat-slick and passion-hot, they mated, with the hard, heavy needs within them ruling their every move until one final lunge propelled them through the timeless ecstasy of fulfillment. She shook with a release so strong she thought she might never recover from the forceful shudders that continued claiming her when his life force emptied into her. His groaning cries of fulfillment echoed in the stillness of the cottage as his body trembled.

Her man, stronger and more powerful than most, lay weak and drained in the arms of the woman who loved him. Loved him enough to die for him. Even enough to kill for him. The thought of loving someone so deeply and com­pletely frightened her. She had known Nate Hodges for such a short period of time, and yet it seemed that she had known him always, that he had been a part of her from the day she'd been born.

With their bodies still joined, Cyn snuggled against him, caressing his back, whispering love words to him. He claimed her mouth for a leisurely kiss. She felt his sex hard­ening within her as his tongue slipped inside her mouth.

'One more time, Brown Eyes,' he said, and began again the ancient dance that bound them together eternally.

Chapter 11

Nate lifted her suitcases into the van, slammed the door and stepped away. He couldn't touch her again. If he did, he'd be lost—he'd never be able to let her go.

'I'll follow you to the gas station,' he said. 'Sam Dun­dee is waiting there. He'll be as inconspicuous as possible so you can go on about your life as usual. No one should no­tice his presence if he's as good as Romero says he is.'

The moonlight cast honeyed shadows across her face, and the night breeze stirred the loose tendrils of her long hair. He knew she was close to tears, and if he prolonged their goodbye, she would be crying soon.

'I'll let you know when Romero gets someone to replace Dundee.' He took one last long look at Cyn before getting behind the wheel of his Jeep Cherokee, which he'd parked beside her van.

Feeling numb, Cyn started the engine and maneuvered the minivan out of the driveway, and onto the deserted road. Within five minutes, she slowed down in front of the closed gas station. A tall, broad-shouldered man stepped out of a compact car. Cyn pulled the van to a stop, but remember­ing Nate's instructions, didn't get out. She watched as Nate drove in beside her, jumped out of his Jeep and went over to speak to the man he'd hired to protect her.

She could hardly believe her life had come to this—that she had to live in fear that some madman would use her to get even with Nate. Never once had she sought out vio­lence, but it had come to her, ripping her life apart. Why, dear God, why? Was Nate right? Did you have to face vio­lence when it was thrust upon you and fight for your own salvation? And for the safety of those you loved?

Cyn sat quietly but impatiently until Nate and the other man approached her. When the two neared, she got a close-up look at her bodyguard. He was big and blond, with a hard, weathered-looking face and a muscular body that seemed to be in prime condition.

'This is Dundee,' Nate told her, then gave the other man a warning stare. 'Make sure nothing happens to her.' With that said, Nate got in his Jeep and drove away, not once looking back.

Cyn tried to open the van door, wanting to run after Nate, needing to cry out to him for one final word of goodbye, but Dundee's big body pressed against the door. 'It's time to leave for Jacksonville, Ms. Porter.'

Clinging to the last shreds of her composure, Cyn nod­ded her head, silently agreeing. Perhaps it was best not to be allowed a farewell look, a final touch.

As Cyn made the journey from Sweet Haven to her Jack­sonville apartment, she remembered the last moments she had shared with Nate. They had made love twice, each time a passionate sharing, an eternal bonding that transcended the merely physical act that brought them both so much pleasure.

After they had showered together and redressed, he had set her down at the kitchen table and told her about Ian Ry-ker. She knew he hadn't told her everything, that he had spared her all but the necessary facts.

'I knew Ryker in Viet Nam. We hated each other,' Nate had told her. 'Ryker was a mercenary, and it was a known fact that he was supplying drugs to Uncle Sam's boys. Although American by birth, Ryker's loyalties were question­able, and his morals nonexistent.'

Cyn had listened patiently while Nate explained the rea­sons Ryker held such a deadly grudge against him. 'On an assignment deep into Vietcong-held territory to capture a hamlet chief that we hoped could give us specific informa­tion about enemy supplies and movements, Ryker and I met face-to-face.

'Ryker was involved with the village chief's daughter and had sold out to the NYA. During the Vietcong chief's cap­ture, his daughter was accidently killed in the crossfire when she ran to Ryker for protection. I have no idea whose fire actually killed the girl, only that in the split second that it took Ryker to react to his lover's death, I opened fire on him. My SEAL team barely escaped with our lives and our prisoner.'

Cyn realized how difficult it was for Nate to tell her about what had happened so long ago, in a country halfway around the world. In those moments while he shared a painful part of his past with her, Cyn began to understand what had made Nate Hodges the hard and lonely man he was today. And it made her love him all the more.

'For several years after the incident, I thought Ryker was dead, but then he showed up, out of the blue, missing a hand and an eye and warning me that, one day, he'd get even with me.

'I didn't live in fear, but I dreaded the day he'd make good on his threats,' Nate had told her, while he sat tall and rigid at her kitchen table, his face solemn, his eyes haunted with tormented memories. 'I stayed in the SEALs. Spent twenty years in the navy, and I always kept vigil, waiting for Ryker.'

'Oh, Nate.' When she had reached across the table and tried to take hold of Nate's hands, he'd pulled away.

'Five years ago, reports came in from South America that Ryker had been imprisoned for smuggling and had been killed in a prison fight. The reports were wrong. He reap­peared a few months ago. I knew then that it was only a matter of time.'

Cyn pulled into the parking area of her apartment com­plex. Leaving her suitcases inside, she locked the van