The Tempting: Seducing the Nephilim. D. M. Pratt

never told Eve that A.V. had been in love with him, wishing Beau would see him as more than a friend, a wish that blossomed when they were pubescent boys, or what had transpired between them the night of his parents’ death.

      “I remember you dressed in that crisp white shirt and blue slacks,” Eve said.

      “I found them in my closet and that old blue jacket somehow still fit well enough to finish off my ensemble.”

      “That jacket fit tight as a kid glove and you looked like Adonis descending.” Eve said with a smile and held an old photo of a much younger Beau. “You definitely filled out from your days as a slender youth.”

      Beau smiled and they shared a kiss.

      “I’m glad you liked what you saw,” he added.

      “I never had a chance. I was smitten from the moment I laid eyes on you,” Eve said.

      Beau talked about how he’d found his way down the curved entry stairs and stepped over the velvet rope put in place to keep the lookie-loos from exploring the upstairs. He had been starving and in search of food and drink. A passing waitress flirted and made it her business to keep him satiated with his favorite poison; a glass of scotch, neat, that went straight to his head. He talked about foraging the buffet tables for food, nibbling from the delicious display of Southern delights he’d missed so much in his travels. Their scents, spicy and sweet, ignited his olfactory nerves and had his mouth watering. He’d made sure to sample everything.

      “I never tasted a bit,” Eve said, remembering her terrifying entrance with a laugh. It was good for her to remember those last hours before the coma. She liked talking about them and so did Beau.

      “I’d been gone a long time and I certainly didn’t look like the twelve-year-old boy who left New Orleans. I watched as several women eyed me like a steak dinner on a plate and whisper between them about who would get first bite.”

      “They were wondering who you were,” Eve added.

      “One or two of the bold ones sashayed up and did their best to say clever things about the night or the house, blatantly flirting, but none of them got the satisfaction of discovering who I was, where I came from or why I was there,” Beau explained and laughed.

      “You are a wonderfully wicked trickster. And, I have to say, I like your lack of humility,” Eve said.

      “Hey, I was looking for you. I just didn’t know it,” he replied.

      Again they kissed.

      “So, how did you say you found me?” Eve asked, knowing the answer.

      Beau smiled as he told her again how he’d found a shaded corner near the entrance to the main living room between the large, exotic plants the decorator had brought in for the party. They stood majestically and filled the space and gave just enough covering for him to sit, eat and drink undisturbed, allowing him to watch the night unfold from the shadows.

      “The same men, ever Southern pompous and arrogant, and the women with too much make up bored me. Add to that the scotch, great Louisiana cooking and the fatigue from my jet lag and I was so relaxed I was falling asleep in my secret hideaway. That’s when I gave up, dragged myself to my feet and was just about to head up the stairs when I saw an awkwardly adorable and very beautiful stranger with a river of long, honey hair standing at the entrance trying to convince herself to find the courage to enter the room,” Beau laughed.

      “I wasn’t talking out loud,” Eve said, horrified at the thought.

      “Your honesty radiates like the sun and you become a piece of glass, so transparent I can see your every perfection, my darling almost wife,” Beau said.

      Eve melted into his arms. He’d told her the story a thousand times, but each time she heard it, it made her smile.

      They kissed and talked about how the music from the DJ changed to a slow, sensual ballad called “Will You Remember Me?” by Brenna Whitaker. A title they each thought appropriate in hindsight – a song that had become their song.

      “It was the music that pushed me forward until my arms slipped around your waist,” he said. “I wanted you from the moment I saw you with power that defies explanation.”

      “You know you touched me and the room and everyone in it disappeared,” Eve added.

      “And when we danced, we floated across that room,” Beau told her, cuddling and kissing her neck.

      They each recalled their versions of dancing gracefully out onto the veranda and into the garden or when it was she’d lost her shoes.

      “I felt as though I was holding living, breathing electricity,” Beau said. “Somehow I captured this ethereal, energetic light; beauty and grace inside of one being and I wasn’t ever going to let it go.”

      “I felt the same,” Eve said with a nod. “You held me in your arms and when your lips touched mine and it turned into that first kiss – so sweet, gentle, innocent and yet… Fireworks.”

      “No, it was the second kiss I gave you,” said Beau, “That kiss made me feel like I was a God being driven by some insatiable, indefinable hunger. You made time stand still and the world melt away.”

      Tears of joy welled in Eve’s eyes. She told him how when her mouth met his, she had no choice but to give herself to him, surrendering with utter abandon was her only option. Clothes fell away and they made wild, passionate love surrounded by the thick foliage of the garden’s hedge maze.

      “How many hours did we make love?” he asked.

      “There is no time when I make love to you. That’s what you do to me.”

      “Good,” Beau kissed her.

      He slipped his fingers inside her and felt how wet and ready she was to be taken. Eve’s eyes glazed over as he fondled her breasts with his other hand and kissed her mouth. It hung open, suspended in the shape of a tiny, perfect ‘o’ beckoning him to slip his tongue inside. Her hands found his cock, each stroking motion making him harder and harder.

      Between the kisses, sucking and strokes, Beau whispered about how they built up the I-can’t-get-enough-of-your-passion, almost coming over and over, again and again, but holding back until they finally climaxed together.

      She moaned, uttering between his kisses how in that final, sensual thrust of passion, she’d somehow known the exact moment when he’d given her his child.

      “Tell me. You knew the instant Philip was conceived?” Beau asked.

      “With all my heart I believe so. What I didn’t know was that he was a Gregoire with hundreds of years of history flowing into each dividing cell,” Eve recalled breathlessly. “But, my fiery master of love, at that moment you could have been a Troglodyte for all I cared.”

      Beau’s fingers worked in and out as Eve’s breathing escalated, matching his.

      “I exploded from the inside out,” Eve said

      “You were magnificent. Your arched back, bare tits to the sky,” Beau said.

      “And slammed my head on the statue and knocked myself out,” Eve said laughing.

      Beau threw her back and slipped inside of her.

      “I thought I’d killed you,” Beau said.

      “Best sex I ever had in my life,” Eve said.

      The story made them both laugh until they cried tears of embarrassment and joy. Beau climbed on top of her and slipped inside. They made love and kissed, holding onto each other as they always did when they shared their story. They made Eve’s favorite kind of love; the mad, passionate, ride me until I scream with breathless delight and bring me to our highest climax kind of love. Spent, they fell asleep in each other’s arms.

      Hours later, Eve woke. Tangled in his arms and legs and exhausted, she held Beau while