The Tempting Nun
“Still I let you undo me.”
She moved between his knees as he sat in the high-backed chair carved with papal insignia. Her hands went to the sash at his waist, untying it with the same quiet reverence she might use to fold altar linens.
“You manipulate me,” he continued, the confession spilling out like prayer. “You come to me in the dead of night, dressed in the habit of obedience, and you make me remember I am still a man. You make me want what I vowed never to take. It is sinful—monstrous, even—and yet…” His fingers caught her wrist, not to stop her, but to hold her there. “I crave it. I crave the ruin you bring.”
Bab Populer