He grunted, his gaze going to her bare legs as she leaned back on the bed, her shorts riding up her thighs.
“Witch,” he growled. “My ride is waiting downstairs and you know it.”
She drew her shirt off and released her shorts, letting them fall down her legs. Watching him, she slid her fingers over the bare, wet folds between her thighs then lifted them to his lips.
Nathan groaned. She loved that sound. His lips parted and his eyes went wild as he tasted her.
“So make it a quickie,” she whispered, desperate to have him, just one last time, before he left. She straightened on the bed as he neared, her fingers going to his belt, working it loose quickly. “I dare you. Fuck me like you mean it . . .”
He turned her, pushed her over the edge of the bed, and within seconds he was filling her. Hard and throbbing, stroking, penetrating, burying inside her in rapid hard strokes until she felt pure white-hot sensation wash over her.
“Nathan. Nathan, I love you,” she cried out as he came over her, holding her in place as his hips jerked against her, his hands gripping her, fingers burning into her flesh.
And then he whispered the words. The lyrical flow of sound, Gaelic. He whispered his love for her in a language his grandfather had taught him, and she felt it in her soul.
“Always,” she whispered, turning her head to him, taking his kiss. “Forever, Nathan.”
One week later
Bella opened the door, and she froze. Nathan’s uncle Jordan was standing beside the chaplain. She knew he was the chaplain by his dark uniform. Jordan was in his dress whites, his Navy hat in his hand, medals shining on his chest, and she felt the collapse of her spirit.
“Nathan’s due home any day,” she whispered, her lips numbing as she stared back at Jordan and saw his grief, his sorrow. “You’re early, Jordan. He’s not here yet.”
She was crying. She could feel the tears, hot, blistering her skin as she pressed her fists tight to her stomach and felt her knees weakening.
“Bella.” His voice was thick, unshed tears glittering in his eyes. “I’m sorry.”
He was sorry? Sorry? He was tearing her soul right out of her chest and he was sorry?
She shook her head. “Please don’t say it, Jordan. Please don’t say it.”
“Bella.” He swallowed tightly. “You know I have to.”
He had to. He had to destroy her.
“Mrs. Malone.” The chaplain spoke for him. “Ma’am, it is my greatest regret to inform you—”
“No. No!” She screamed the words as Jordan caught her, dragging her into his arms and helping her into the house as the screams poured from her. They ripped from her chest, like a knife, brutal, merciless. The pain dragged her into a pit of such deep, stark despair that she didn’t think she could survive.
“Nathan!” She cried out his name, screamed his name, she begged him. He swore he would always know when she needed him, even in death. Because he had that gift. It was the eyes, he had said, and she had laughed at him, and now she wished it were true. Because she needed Nathan, her Wild Irish eyes. “Oh God, Nathan!”
Six months later
Bella came awake to her own sobs, her chest heaving as she searched the bed, her hands reaching across the distance, clawing at the sheets, the pillow, desperate to find him.
He was bleeding. She could see the blood on his hands as though she were staring through his eyes. She could feel his agony, gut wrenching, desperate, a ragged gaping soul of unvarnished agony howling around her.
It had to be a dream. Sobs tore from her throat as she ripped at the blankets, a guttural cry of raw agony tearing from her heart.
“Nathan!” She screamed his name, her voice hoarse, raw from her tears, from the past horrific months.
The funeral . . . They hadn’t even let her see him.
She fell forward, her tears dropping to the bed as she remembered, remembered and knew it wasn’t a dream. Nathan was really gone. Forever.
They had closed his coffin to her. She hadn’t been allowed to touch him, to kiss his beloved face, to whisper goodbye. There was nothing to hold on to, nothing to ease the agony breaking over her.
There was only the emptiness. The emptiness of her bed. Her life. There was only the horrible, aching hollow in her soul. It ate at her, burned into her mind and reminded her every second, every day, that Nathan was gone.