Page 6 of Exorcise Me (Hotter than Hell)

The bathroom, like every space Lucien touched, had been transformed. My previously utilitarian setup now featured neatly arranged products, plush new towels I didn’t remember buying, and a scented candle burning on the counter.

“Ridiculous,” I muttered, even as I appreciated the soft lighting and gentle lavender scent.

I stripped off my clothes, dropping them in the new hamper that had appeared sometime during the week. My reflection caught my attention—I did look different. My skin clearer, yes, but something else too. My eyes seemed brighter, more alive than they had in months.

Exposed to dark influences, Father Finnegan’s voice echoed in my mind.

I turned away from the mirror and stepped into the shower, letting hot water wash away the remnants of the day.

As steam filled the bathroom, I found my thoughts drifting to Lucien—the way his eyes crinkled when he really smiled, how his hands moved when he talked, the graceful line of his throat when he tipped his head back in laughter.

This is dangerous, I thought, closing my eyes as water cascaded over me. This is exactly what I was warned about.

But the warnings hadn’t mentioned how it would feel—this slow, inexorable pull toward something forbidden. They hadn’t explained that temptation wouldn’t come as a clear choice between good and evil, but as a thousand small moments of connection that made me question which was which.

I was so lost in thought that I didn’t hear the bathroom door open. It wasn’t until a draft of cooler air hit my skin that I realized I wasn’t alone.

“I forgot to tell you that the hot water runs—” Lucien’s voice cut off abruptly.

I froze, one hand still in my shampoo-covered hair, the shower curtain only partially drawn. Through the gap, I could see Lucien standing in the doorway, his eyes wide and fixed on me.

Time seemed to stop. Water ran down my naked body while Lucien stared, his expression shifting from surprise to something darker, hungrier. His eyes tracked a droplet of water as it traveled down my chest, past my stomach, lower…

“I—” he swallowed, his composure completely shattered for the first time since I’d met him. “The hot water runs out quickly. I was going to warn you.”

I should have covered myself. I should have pulled the curtain closed. I should have told him to get out.

I did none of those things.

Instead, I stood there, letting him look at me, a strange heat that had nothing to do with the shower spreading through my body.

“Thanks for the warning,” I finally managed, my voice hoarser than I intended.

Lucien’s eyes snapped back to my face. Something passed between us, electric and dangerous. He took a half-step forward before catching himself.

“I should—” he gestured vaguely toward the door, but didn’t move.

“Yeah,” I agreed, but made no move to cover myself either.

The air between us grew thick with unspoken things. I watched his chest rise and fall with quickened breaths, saw his pupils dilate until the amber was just a thin ring around black.

“Noah,” he said, my name almost a groan. “I should go.”

“Probably,” I whispered.

He didn’t. Instead, he took another step into the bathroom, then another, until he was standing just outside the shower, close enough that I could see the individual lashes framing his extraordinary eyes.

“Tell me to leave,” he said, his voice rough with restraint. “If you want me to go, you have to say it.”

I knew what he was doing. Giving me control. Letting me make the choice.

Water continued to cascade down my body. Steam curled between us. I could see his shirt darkening with moisture where water droplets reached him.

“Lucien,” I said, my heart pounding so hard I was sure he could hear it even over the shower.

“Yes?” His eyes never left mine.

Words failed me. Instead, I reached out, my wet hand grasping the front of his shirt, and pulled him toward me.

Our lips crashed together with the force of a week’s worth of tension finally snapping. He made a sound against my mouth—surprise and hunger combined—before his arms wrapped around me, heedless of the water now soaking his clothes.

His mouth was hot, demanding, tasting faintly of the wine we’d been drinking. One of his hands tangled in my wet hair, the other splayed across my lower back, pulling me against him. The fabric of his now-drenched shirt rubbed against my naked skin, the contrast of textures making me gasp.

Lucien took advantage of my parted lips, deepening the kiss with a skill that made my knees weak. His tongue stroked against mine, exploring, claiming. I clutched at his shoulders, torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer.

This is wrong, the voice of my training whispered.

Then why does it feel so right? countered something deeper, more primal.

Lucien broke the kiss first, pulling back just enough to look into my eyes. Water streamed down his face, plastering his dark hair to his forehead. His shirt clung to his body like a second skin, revealing the sculpted perfection beneath.

“We should stop,” he said, though his hands remained on my body, one at my waist, the other still tangled in my hair.

“Should we?” I challenged, surprising myself with my boldness.

His eyes darkened further. “Noah, you don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“I’m not asking.” I leaned forward, pressing my forehead against his. “I’m choosing.”

Something like wonder flashed across his face. Then he was kissing me again, harder this time, more demanding. His hands roamed my naked body while I fumbled with the buttons of his soaked shirt. Water continued to pour over both of us, turning everything slick and urgent.

I finally managed to push his shirt off his shoulders, revealing skin that gleamed golden in the bathroom’s soft light. He was perfect—of course he was—all lean muscle and smooth skin that seemed to glow from within.

“You’re staring,” he murmured against my lips.

“You’re worth staring at,” I replied honestly.

His smile was surprisingly tender. “So are you.”

His hands traced patterns on my skin, leaving trails of heat in their wake. When his fingers brushed across my nipple, I gasped, arching into the touch. Lucien’s smile turned wicked.

“Sensitive,” he observed, repeating the motion and watching me shiver. “I wonder where else you’re sensitive…”

His mouth replaced his fingers, hot and wet against my chest. I clutched at his shoulders, my head falling back against the shower wall as he explored my body with lips and tongue and gentle teeth. Each touch sent sparks racing through me, building a fire that threatened to consume us both.

The shower continued to pound down on us, steam filling the small bathroom until it felt like we were in our own private world, cut off from reality and consequences.

Lucien’s hands slid lower, tracing the lines of my hipbones, thumbs pressing into the sensitive hollows. He dropped to his knees in one fluid motion, looking up at me with those impossible eyes, water streaming down his face.

“I’ve thought about this,” he confessed, his voice rough with desire. “Every night, lying on your couch, knowing you were just behind that door…”

The image of him wanting me, thinking about me, sent a fresh wave of heat through my body. I reached down, tracing his cheekbone with trembling fingers.

“Yes,” I whispered, answering the question he hadn’t asked.

His smile was sin incarnate. Then his mouth was on me, hot and perfect, and all coherent thought fled my mind. My fingers tangled in his wet hair, holding on as he took me apart with devastating skill.

Oh God, oh God, oh God, ran through my mind in a litany that was half prayer, half blasphemy.

As if hearing my thoughts, Lucien pulled back just enough to murmur, “He’s not the one on His knees for you right now.”

Then he took me deeper, and I was lost.

Time blurred. There was only sensation—the hot water streaming down my skin, the slick heat of his mouth, the gentle pressure of his hands holding my hips against the shower wall. I felt myself spiraling higher, closer to some precipice I’d never approached before.

“Lucien,” I gasped, a warning and a plea.

He looked up, our eyes locking as he continued his relentless attention. The sight of him like that—on his knees, water making his lashes spiky and dark, his eyes glowing with inhuman desire—pushed me over the edge. I came with his name on my lips, a prayer to a very different kind of deity.

He stayed with me through it, easing me down from the height with gentle touches. When my legs threatened to give out, he rose smoothly, supporting my weight against his still-partially clothed body.

“The water’s getting cold,” he murmured against my temple, pressing a kiss there.

I was boneless, sated in a way I’d never experienced before. “I don’t care.”

His chuckle vibrated against my skin. “You will in a minute. Come on.”

He reached behind me to turn off the shower, then helped me step out onto the bathmat. With surprising tenderness, he wrapped me in one of the fluffy new towels, rubbing gentle circles to dry my skin.

I watched him, this creature who defied everything I’d been taught to believe, as he cared for me with a gentleness I hadn’t known existed.

His soaked pants hung low on his hips, revealing a tantalizing V of muscle that disappeared beneath the waistband.

Evidence of his own desire was clearly visible through the wet fabric.

“What about you?” I asked, reaching for him.

He caught my hand, bringing it to his lips for a kiss. “We have time.” His eyes held mine. “Unless you’re having second thoughts?”

I considered the question honestly. I should be. By any standard of my training, what we’d done—what I’d allowed him to do—was unforgivable. I’d not only consorting with a demon, I’d given myself to one.

And yet… I felt no shame. No regret. Only a strange, peaceful clarity.

“No second thoughts,” I said, surprising us both with my certainty. “But maybe we could move this to the bedroom? With fewer wet clothes involved?”

Lucien’s smile was slow and beautiful. “I’ve created a monster.”

“No,” I corrected, feeling brave enough to step into his space, pressing my body against his. “You’ve just helped me find parts of myself I didn’t know were there.”

He kissed me then, soft and sweet, a stark contrast to our earlier desperation. When he pulled away, his eyes were serious.

“Noah,” he said quietly. “You should know… this changes things. For both of us.”

I knew he was right. There would be consequences—to my faith, my career, possibly my soul. But standing there, wrapped in a towel and Lucien’s arms, I couldn’t bring myself to care.

“I know,” I said simply. “I’m choosing it anyway.”

The joy that bloomed across his face was worth any price I might have to pay.