Page 117 of Divine Temptations
Except it was.
And though part of me screamed to stop, to retreat, to throw up the walls I’d spent years building, the louder part—the reckless, hungry, undeniable part—was already following him out the door.
Noah’s key turned in the lock, and suddenly I was inside his apartment. My chest felt tight, like I’d run a mile uphill. It was him—Noah—that had me wrecked. Every step we took here, every glance, every kiss we’d shared in the library was echoing in my veins, louder than blood rushing, louder than thought itself.
I barely had time to notice the shelves—row after row of books, hundreds of spines, colors and textures like some living cathedral of knowledge—before Noah was on me again. His arms went around me, and his mouth pressed to mine, hot and certain, and my knees nearly buckled. I grabbed onto him because if I didn’t, I would’ve collapsed.
I thought the kiss at the library had undone me, but this… this kiss was my ruin. His lips tasted like heat and promise, his tongue coaxing mine like he’d known me for years instead of a days. I clutched his shirt, dragging him closer, desperate, dizzy. My heart slammed against my ribs like it was trying to break out and find its way into his chest instead.
When Noah finally pulled back, I was gasping. He leaned in close, his breath brushing against my cheek, and whispered, “I’m going to make love to you now, Henry.”
The words nearly unmade me. They were beautiful, terrifying, irresistible. I froze, trembling. “I… I’ve never—” My voice cracked, shame washing over me. I forced the words out, a whisper almost too quiet to hear. “I’ve never made love to anyone.”
He smiled at me then—slow, tender, knowing. It wasn’t mocking. It wasn’t pity. It was reverence, like I’d just given him the rarest gift in the world. “Then I’ll make you feel things you’ve never felt before.”
Before I could argue, before I could retreat back into fear, he caught my hand and pulled me gently but firmly down the hall. His bedroom swallowed me whole—soft light, rumpled sheets, the faintest scent of cedar and soap—but none of it mattered, because Noah was there. And then his mouth was on mine again, his tongue demanding, his kiss bruising.
My whole body shook. Desire and dread warred inside me, tangled up so tight I couldn’t tell one from the other. I put my hands on his chest, meaning to push him back, but it was weak, helpless. “Noah, I—I don’t…”
He caught my wrists, held them between us, and his eyes—God, his eyes—burned into me. “God made you who you are. Don’t feel guilty for wanting me, for wanting this.” His voice dropped low, rough, like a prayer. “Don’t feel guilty for wanting love.”
Then his mouth claimed mine again, hotter, deeper, until I moaned into him, until the last of my resistance melted. His hands were everywhere—my face, my hair, sliding down my sides—and suddenly I was tearing at his shirt, desperate to feel skin against skin. He pulled mine over my head in one motion, and then it was a frenzy, fabric tossed aside, kisses searing down my throat, and across my chest.
We stumbled onto the bed, tangled and breathless, until I was on my back and he was above me, his body heavy, solid,and perfect. He kissed me like he wanted to devour me, and murmured against my lips, “You’re so beautiful, Henry. Do you know how lucky I am? To be your first… and maybe your only.”
The words should’ve terrified me, but instead they sent fire down my spine. My hands clutched his shoulders, nails digging in. My hips lifted of their own accord, seeking him. And in that moment, with his body covering mine, with his voice low and reverent, I wanted nothing else in the world but to let him. His mouth moved to my ear, breath hot, voice a hushed growl. “Tell me you want this, Henry. Tell me you want me.”
I shivered, my body arching into his, craving more of his touch, his heat. The words were stuck in my throat, choked by years of suppressed longing and fear. But his eyes, fierce and tender, demanded the truth.
“I… I want you, Noah,” I whispered, the confession torn from some raw, hidden place inside me. “I want this.”
A low groan escaped him, and his mouth crashed back onto mine, hungry and triumphant. His hands roamed my body, tracing lines of fire along my skin. I gasped as he found sensitive spots I never knew existed, my body writhing beneath his expert touch.
He broke away from my lips, trailing kisses down my neck, my chest, lingering on the planes of my stomach. I squirmed, ticklish and aroused, each touch igniting new sparks of desire. When he reached the waistband of my jeans, he looked up at me, a question in his eyes.
I nodded, breath hitching, and he slowly slid them off, along with my boxers, leaving me bare and vulnerable. But there was no judgment in his gaze, only hunger and admiration. He kissed the inside of my thigh, and I jolted, a soft moan escaping me.
“Easy,” he murmured, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “We have all night, Henry.”
His words sent a thrill through me, even as they stoked the flames of my desire higher. He continued his exploration, his touch gentle yet firm, until I was a writhing, panting mess beneath him. When he finally wrapped his hand around my shaft, I cried out, my body bucking into his touch.
“Shh,” he soothed, stroking slowly, tortuously. “Let it build, Henry. Let me make this good for you.”
I bit my lip, trying to hold back the moans threatening to spill out. He lowered his head, replacing his hand with his mouth, and I nearly came undone. The heat, the wetness, the suction—it was too much, too intense. My hands fisted in his hair, holding him there, begging without words.
He brought me to the edge, then backed off, over and over, until I was a trembling, incoherent mess.
"Jesus, Noah," I panted. "Please, I don't know if I can take anymore."
Noah moved up my torso, planting kisses as he went. When he got to my chest, he took a nipple in his mouth and sucked hard. A whining noise came from my throat. “You can take it, Henry,” he murmured against my skin, his voice a low rumble. “You’re made for this. For me.”
His words sent a shiver down my spine, a mix of anticipation and disbelief. I was barely holding on, every touch and kiss pushing me closer to the edge. He moved to the other nipple, giving it the same treatment, and my back arched, pressing into him, begging for more.
Noah’s mouth moved back to mine, his kiss slow and deep, as if he were pouring himself into me. I could taste myself on his lips, and it was strangely intoxicating. His hands roamed my body, touching, teasing, until they found their way between my legs again. This time, he didn’t stop at just a touch. He grasped my shaft and began moving it up and down. Moments later my hips bucked, my eyes snapped shut, and Noah stopped moving.
"No, please," I gasped. "I'm almost there, I..."
"I want you inside me, Henry," Noah whispered. "I want you to feel what it's like to be as one with me."
