Page 116 of Divine Temptations
Chapter Seven
Henry
Song of Songs 4:11 — Your lips distill nectar, my bride; honey and milk are under your tongue.
I was a wreck.
Sitting in that cramped study room, Noah’s hand covering mine, I felt like every nerve in my body had been lit on fire. My heart thudded against my ribs so hard I was sure he could hear it. He was too close, too beautiful, too much.
Noah was everything I wasn’t. Confident. Magnetic. His body moved with an ease that made me feel like I’d spent my entire life stumbling. Even now, sitting beside me in a plain chair, he radiated heat and charisma as if he belonged to some higher order of being. He was the embodiment of every single thing I had ever secretly, shamefully admired in a man. And it terrified me.
I swallowed, my throat dry as paper. His hand was still on mine, and the weight of it made my thoughts scatter.
“I’m not denying I saw you at Babylon,” I managed, though my voice cracked. I stared at the notebook on the table because I couldn’t bear to look into his eyes just yet. “It’s just… I thought you were a bartender. Not a—” My face burned hot. I couldn’t say the word. My mouth went dry around it. “—not a dancer. It took me by surprise, that’s all.”
He hummed, a low, dangerous sound that made my stomach knot. “Why’d you come to Babylon, Henry?”
The truth tumbled out before I could stop it. “Yesterday we were having such a wonderful conversation here in the library, and when you were called away… I thought… maybe if I went to the bar where you worked, we could continue.” I winced at my own honesty. “When I saw you wearing… well, very little clothing—” My ears burned so hot I thought they might catch fire. “—it took me by surprise.”
Finally, I forced myself to look at him.
Noah was smiling, slow and wicked. His eyes, dark and gleaming, pinned me in place. He squeezed my hand gently, the warmth of it seeping into my skin until it felt like I couldn’t breathe.
“I’d love to keep talking to you,” he murmured, voice low and intimate, “and so much more.”
The words slid into me like a spark, catching dry tinder. My chest tightened, heat blooming low in my stomach, spreading thick and heavy. I gulped, struggling to hold myself together, but it was useless. I was coming apart under the sheer force of him.
God, he was gorgeous. His skin glowed golden under the fluorescent light, his jaw sharp, his lips soft and full and entirely too close to mine. I noticed the little curve at the corner of his mouth, the way his lashes curled against his cheekbones, the way his shoulders strained the fabric of his shirt.
My pulse roared in my ears. I was so turned on it was painful.
His thumb brushed my knuckles, slow, deliberate. His gaze dipped to my mouth, and I forgot how to breathe.
“You saw me almost naked,” he whispered, and the devilish grin returned. “And you liked it. Didn’t you?”
“No,” I said, far too quickly, my voice breaking.
But my body betrayed me. I couldn’t sit still, couldn’t stop my thighs from tensing, couldn’t hide the hard truth straining beneath the table. Heat flooded my face, and I knew he could see it all over me.
Before I could protest again, before I could think of some excuse, he leaned in and kissed me.
It was fierce, unguarded, and demanding.
My world exploded.
I gasped into his mouth, but then I was kissing him back, hard, desperate, like I’d been waiting my whole life for this and hadn’t known it until now. His lips were soft but demanding, his tongue brushing mine, coaxing, tasting, taking. The kiss went on and on, obliterating every thought, every shred of self-control.
My hand clutched at his wrist, clinging, while his hand slid to the back of my neck, holding me in place as if he’d never let me go. I moaned into his mouth, the sound shocking me, raw and needy, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t.
When he finally broke away, I was gasping for breath, my body trembling, my lips swollen and wet.
Noah stood, his chest rising and falling, eyes blazing with something wild. He jerked his head toward the glass walls of the study room. “We need to go somewhere more private.”
The reality of the library rushed back—the rows of tables, the possible eyes on us, the fact that anyone could’ve seen. My stomach flipped, shame and thrill tangled into one dangerous cocktail.
Noah was already shoving his notebook into his bag, efficient, determined. I scrambled to do the same, my hands clumsy, shaking.
This couldn’t be happening.
