Page 91 of Divine Temptations
Jude laughed softly through his nose, but it wasn’t mocking.
“What happened to her?” he asked gently. “Do you still talk to her?”
That’s when it happened.
The tear slid down my cheek without warning. I didn’t feel it building. Just suddenly there—warm and silent, betraying me.
“No,” I whispered. “She’s in prison. Upstate New York. Got caught finally—wire fraud, tax evasion, all of it. I haven’t spoken to her in years. Don’t plan to. I can’t.”
I blinked. Another tear.
“I made it my life’s work to expose people like her,” I said. “Frauds. Liars. People who prey on belief like it’s a buffet. I swore I’d never let anyone else fall for it.”
Jude pulled me into a hug.
No words. Just the warmth of his arms. Just his chest against mine, his heartbeat steady and solid while mine spiraled out of control. I wept against him, messy and sudden and loud in the quiet room. My hands fisted in the back of his shirt like I was afraid he’d disappear.
And then—
Jude kissed me.
It was soft at first. Just a brushing of lips, like he was asking permission with his mouth. I answered him with mine, and everything slowed. Time. Thought. Breath. It was a kiss born of something deeper than lust. Something sacred.
The last time we kissed, I had rushed it. Tried to turn it into sex before it could become a feeling. Jude had pulled away then, told me to slow down.
Now, I didn’t want to rush.
But God, I wanted more.
I felt it when Jude sensed my hesitation. My fear. My nerves that this would spook him. That if I moved too fast, I’d lose him again.
He pulled back slightly, breath brushing my cheek. “I’ve never felt so connected to another man,” he said, voice low and raw. “Not like this.”
And then he kissed me again.
This one was different.
Deeper.
Hungrier.
But not desperate. Not transactional.
It wasn’t like the sex I was used to. Fast, anonymous, and forgettable. This was intimate. This was two people cracking open just enough to let the other one in.
His hand slid under my shirt, splayed warm against my ribs. My body trembled, not from arousal, but from how unfamiliar it all felt—being touched like I mattered. Like I wasn’t just a body to use or a source of information, but something sacred.
My heart ached with it.
Talking about my mother had shaken something loose inside me. Something I didn’t want to look at but couldn’t ignore anymore. I’d spent my entire life building walls so I could protect myself from her legacy. From the shame of what she’d done. And from the guilt of having loved her anyway.
But Jude wasn’t trying to climb those walls. He was waiting patiently at the gate, asking me to open it from the inside.
And damn me, I wanted to.
I wanted to let him in.
His lips moved against mine like a prayer. His hands roamed slowly, reverently. And for the first time in years, I let myself feel it all. The grief, the desire, and for the first time in years, hope.
