By the end of our walk, Noah had redeemed himself. He had explained his lack of contact as much as he could — a lot of it had to do with work, he said, and some for-now-private family matters had come up that needed to be dealt with, and I decided to believe him — and more than that, he had made me laugh, he'd laughed about my jokes, and he had been sweet and kind and also, I'd have to admit, ridiculously sexy in his navy t-shirt and aviator sunglasses.

For a little while we'd kept our physical distance from each other, touching only occasionally and accidentally when Ace (who did indeed behave perfectly) demanded belly rubs and for his frisbee to be thrown. Eventually we'd talked enough for the awkwardness to dissipate, and Noah had explained why he'd cut our date short. He said he really did want to take it slow and not rush into things and that once he'd said that and created tension, he hadn't known what to do and decided to just leave. He said it was just plain stupidity and while this explanation wasn't entirely satisfactory, at least it sounded honest and sincere.

I'd built up the courage, and forgiven him enough, to eventually reach for his hand and so we walked on, breaking the hold every once in a while to toss the frisbee for Ace to fetch. We didn't kiss, however, not even at the end save for a quick peck on the cheek to say goodbye. It was as if we were feeling each other out again, trying to see where the other stood and whether there was a chance for something — but more than that we just talked and teased each other playfully over little things. We asked tons of questions about each other's lives the way we had in that bar on that Sunday night. We even got comfortable enough again for him to grab my waist when we walked past a busker and perform a dramatic tango move, dipping me so low I could barely breath for laughing so hard.

And so at the end, coffees drunk and our loop along both banks of the river finished, he asked me to tell him honestly if I was okay with him calling me again and I said yes, yes I was.

He called me that same afternoon, probably having waited just long enough for me to arrive home, and asked me out again. He came to my apartment again the next day and we watched a movie, cooked another meal together and slow-danced in the cramped living room. He left before anything much could happen between us, but this time he'd made that clear from the start and our goodbye kiss was that much more satisfying for it.

After that, we saw each other at least twice a week and more often in the weeks he wasn't too busy at work. He never gave me another direct cause to doubt his sincerity, although he was still enigmatic as ever and if I hadn't trusted him I could've found many reasons to suspect he was seeing someone else. We almost always hung out at my apartment or away from the city — but he said he didn't like the attention he got in public (of course he was aware of how both women and men gaped at him… and so was I) and that he still hadn't managed to make his place feel like home even months after he'd moved to this city, so he'd rather go to mine.

He never took personal calls when I was around, but either declined them or got up to talk under his breath in another room. He met my closest friends once I figured the relationship talk wasn't far away — though it hadn't yet arrived - but I never met his, no friends, none of his many siblings. He sometimes disappeared for a number of days and wouldn't respond to any of my messages or my calls, or he'd keep his responses extremely brief. He still avoided many of my questions and there were still so many topics he said he couldn't talk about, even those that didn't sound like they had to do with his secret agent work.

But despite all of that, despite the fact that I objectively barely knew him and didn't expect that to change anytime soon, despite my friends telling me I should confront him about all of it, my gut feeling told me it was all okay. I didn't like that he wasn't as open with me as he sometimes seemed to want to be and I certainly didn't like the radio silence I had to deal with every now and then, but something told me that I could trust him and his feelings for me, and that what we had was right.

I was much too down-to-earth to believe in meant to be, in the one and in fate, but I did trust my intuition. It hadn't failed me before, not when it truly mattered. And between all those mysteries was a whole lot of good. He made me feel confident — not just when we were every now and again out in public and people saw me with this magnificently beautiful man, but at home too, just because of the way we interacted with each other and the way he treated me as his equal despite his own cool air of self-assurance. Although that cockiness seemed to fade the more time we spent together: I figured out pretty quickly that just like me, he had emotional walls built up, much higher than mine even - and it felt like he started to trust me enough to let his guard down a little every once in a while and display hints of vulnerability.

We had fun, true unadulterated fun, too. We sang loudly off-key in the kitchen while doing the dishes; we went hiking in the mountains to the east of the city, and when I got tired he gave me a piggy-back ride all the way to the summit, not even getting out of breath once; we went for picknicks in the woods and would lie in the sun for hours, eyes closed, his head resting on my stomach

He comforted me when I was sad and let me complain when I was angry, no, he even got angrier on my behalf than I was. He motivated me to get my camera from the back of my wardrobe where I'd stored it and helped me set up some small photography projects.

Eventually, we resumed right where we had left off many weeks ago. It was inevitable, and although I fully supported our taking it slow, so slow, I had been waiting and itching for it. I always made sure to be wearing nice lingerie or at the very least a matching set when I saw him. I was highly aware of the way his fingers could feel featherlight on my skin one moment and full of titillating force the next.

And then it happened, not at the end of a romantic date night but at the most mundane moment I could have imagined: it was eleven in the morning, Noah had just arrived to take me to the beach, and I was washing last night's leftover dishes when he sidled up behind me.

He brushed my hair from my shoulder and put his lips to my neck, sucking on my skin soft enough not to leave a mark but hard enough to make me shiver. It was nothing new — he did things like this so often that I didn't understand why I had still not gotten used to it — but I'd known for a few days now that I was done waiting. It had taken long enough. I wanted him and I wanted him now.

So, instead of saying 'hey you' and smiling as I usually would, I dropped the sponge and spatula, leaned into his rock-hard torso and dipped my head to the side. He responded by replacing his lips with his teeth, biting softly into my skin, and snaking his arms around me, one hand to my chest and the other to my lower belly. I tilted my face up sideways to his, begging him with my eyes to kiss me, and after an excruciating few seconds of him looking at me with a slight smirk, he finally gave in and his lips met the corner of mine.

I tried to turn, but Noah wouldn't let me; he held me tight, forearm across my collarbones now as the knuckles of his right hand pressed softly into my stomach. My eyes closed. I reached behind me to run my wet fingers along the side of his leg and up to his hips that started to press into me as I squeezed.

He moved away from my lips again before we were even properly kissing, damn him, but he made up for it by flicking my earlobe once with his tongue and moving his right hand down my stomach ever so subtly. His warm breath on the skin of my neck was exquisite. I arched my back against him and sighed.

It was impossible for him not to feel my heartbeat quickening through the thin cotton layer of my sundress. It still always pounded when he kissed me but I hadn't felt so aware of it in a long time; I had never been so certain of what this would lead to, if I had my way.

And I would. And so would he. Because he wanted this too — there was no mistaking that. The solid proof was pressing into the small of my back.

"Noah," I breathed, and let my head fall against his chest.

His heart was beating fast, too, right next to my ear, but he paused for a moment as if considering the situation.

"Don't stop." I lifted and turned my head to look at him from the corner of my eye.

His brown eyes shot up to meet mine. After about five endless seconds, a grin started to spread slowly on his face. No, a smile. He was smiling. And ruining the momentum that we had.

"You know, on second thought, maybe we can go to the beach some other time." His casual voice did not at all match the pressure against my lower back.

Two could play that game. I broke eye contact with some reluctance and looked out the kitchen window. "The weather is amazing, though," I said nonchalantly, but at the exact moment the last word left my mouth, a drizzle started to spatter the glass and we laughed. Graying clouds were rapidly obscuring the sun.

"Well, then." Noah moved his fingers to my hips, swiveled me around, and planted his hands on the counter on either side of me. "It seems to have been decided for us."

I rested my hand on his chest. "It has, hasn't it?"

"Mm." He was still smiling.

Neither of us broke eye contact. The wait was agonizing, electrifying, thrilling.

And then everything happened quickly. I tugged at the hem of his T-shirt and he pulled it off so quickly he could have torn it; he slid his forearm around my thighs and scooped me up to carry me to my bedroom. My ankles crossing behind his back, I kissed him the entire short way there until he laid me down on the light blue sheets.

We had kissed there plenty of times. But this time was different and we both knew it.

Noah took the flip flops off my feet quickly, then took his time moving his fingers up my legs, studying every inch of bare skin available to him. I propped myself up on my elbows to watch him. I could watch him for hours — his herculean body never ceased to amaze me.

He softly kissed the inside of my left knee, his large hand wrapped around my calf, before looking up and meeting my gaze. "Emma," he breathed, "I want to see you. All of you."

It was all I needed to hear. I dug my heels into the mattress, lifted my hips and, with his help, slid my dress up to my waist, then over my head. The bralette and panties I was wearing underneath were easily disposed of.

Noah stood and removed his jeans while I took off my dress — oh, god, his briefs could hardly contain him — but then dropped down on the bed again, eyes wide.

"Emma," he said quietly, reverently, as he ran his hands all over me in amazement. "Emma, Emma, Emma, Emma."

"Noah," I whispered, as if trying it on for size.

He explored the rest of my body the same way that he had my legs, with a wonderment brightening his eyes, almost like he was searching for something. He lingered at the birthmarks on my stomach and pressed a kiss on the scar on my arm from when I'd fallen in gym class, years ago. He ran his hands over my hip bones sticking out as if they were the most interesting things he had ever seen.

I couldn't take it any longer. I hooked a hand behind his neck and pulled his face towards mine. "Take them off." An order and a plea.

His brow creased a little, but then his eyes lit up even more, and he lifted himself off the mattress to pull his briefs down.

I stared, too long, then remembered my cool and lifted my eyes to his face. Then dropped them again and resumed staring. I didn't think I had ever used the word in this context before — he was glorious. Intimidatingly so.

He chuckled at my dazed expression but saved me from embarrassment by kneeling down and hovering above me, his hand right back on my hip bone where it had finished its journey. It stayed still as he spoke softly. "Are you sure?"

"Don't make me wait." I pulled him down to kiss me, and he obeyed instantly, landing his lips on mine and moving his hand lower, and lower, until —

That morning was a turning point. I would never be the same.

I hadn't known my body could experience the sensations he gave me — it was more mind-shattering than I had imagined. I'd thought I understood what people meant when they mentioned fireworks, waterfalls, euphoria, but I realized now that any of my previous experiences paled in comparison to this. It was like an out-of-body experience, otherworldly, divine.

So it went on for a couple of months, until one day Noah did something he hadn't done before: he invited me to his place.

At eight p.m. sharp I stood on the doorstep, checking my phone. I had no idea what doorbell to ring — there were two doors, one on the left with one doorbell and the other with a few — and Noah hadn't specified the floor his apartment was on, just the number of this corner townhouse. I called him, and he picked up instantly.

"Hey, Emms. Are you nearby?"

"I'm at your front door."

I heard him end the phone call and a second or two later he opened the left door. "Come in. It's not much, but… I guess this is where I'm supposed to say 'but it's home'." He stepped aside and took my coat.

"I thought it didn't feel like home," I said as I walked in and looked around. 'Not much' was a lie. I now understood the doorbell situation - he didn't live in an apartment, he actually owned or rented all the floors, as far as I could tell from the staircase in the hallway that didn't seem to end at the next floor.

"Do you… do you still live with your parents?" It wouldn't make sense — after all, he'd told me that he had moved here pretty recently — but it also didn't make sense for him to afford a house like this on a soldier's salary at his age.

He laughed. "No, I haven't lived with my family in ages. What do you want to drink?"

"Water's fine." He probably was a trust fund baby, then, and had managed to hide it pretty well from me. Or had it just not come up in conversation? I supposed I could have known, what with his vintage car (I didn't know enough about cars for the words '63 Stingray' to mean anything to me) and the way he'd always paid for our dates, until I'd told him it would make me feel better and more self-sufficient if he let me take the check every once in a while.

"Sure. Make yourself at home." He disappeared behind a door that I assumed led to the kitchen.

I looked around the living room. In a corner was a big, comfortable dog bed for Ace. An antique shotgun hung against a wall as the only piece of decoration in this room save for a painting on the adjoining wall. Thanks to my college courses in art history I could identify the painting as being a reproduction (or was it? At this point I wouldn't be surprised if it was the real thing) of a Veronese painting depicting Mars, Venus, their son Cupid and a little dog. I hadn't expected to see a piece of Renaissance art like that in Noah's home - I hadn't really expected to see art here, period. Thus far he'd always shown interest in my love for art and photography, but he'd never even dropped a hint of caring much for it himself. And yet here I saw an artwork that wasn't even a standard thing like Van Gogh's Starry Night or the Mona Lisa, no, this was something he'd either been given or carefully picked out himself.

"This isn't… the actual painting, is it? Surely that's in a museum somewhere?" I asked when Noah had come back and given me a glass of water.

He shrugged. "It used to be in Edinburgh. As far as the public knows, it's still there."

I choked on my water. "What?!"

Noah raised an eyebrow, but didn't speak.

"Are you saying you stole this? What the hell, Noah?" Was he just going to come out like this and spill all his dirty secrets in one night? First the house, then art theft, then what? Did he actually have a wife and children in a house out in the country? Had he killed someone?

But no, he started laughing. "I didn't steal this, Emms, I'm not a thief. It's a family thing. We made a deal with the gallery; in exchange, they received a good copy and a Caravaggio previously thought lost."

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. "Okay. Good. For a second there I thought I was in The Thomas Crown Affair. Sexy movie, but not one I want to be a part of."

"No?" He moved to stand closely behind me and snaked his arms around my waistline. "No trips to tropical islands for you?"

I chuckled. "I mean, I wouldn't say no to that."

He pressed a soft kiss on my hair, then one on my neck. "Hey, Emma."

"Yes?" I asked, leaning into his chest.

I felt his adam's apple bob as he swallowed. "I, uh, I know I haven't exactly been forthcoming about my life so far."

"Yeah…"

"But I want to change that. I'm… Turn around."

I did. His arms remained around me.

He looked into my eyes and caressed my cheek. "There are a lot of things that I just can't share, even though I wish I could. But I thought… you coming here might be a start, and maybe you'd like to meet my brother?"

Finally. Finally he was opening up. I'd let him have his secrets and had accepted that there was a side to his life I wouldn't know, now or maybe even ever, but I had always held out hope that maybe he would eventually trust me enough to let me in just a little more.

"That would be great, Noah."

"Good, because he'll be here any minute." As if on cue, the doorbell rang and Noah released me. He went into the hallway, supposedly greeted his brother in a language I didn't understand, and led him into the living room.

It was Luca — I hadn't had time to ask which brother — and I felt myself getting completely starstruck. I'd never met a celebrity in person before but more than that, he was so ridiculously attractive, no, he was dazzling. Literally. His blond curls, like a crown or a halo, were so shiny that they reflected the daylight coming in through the window. He wasn't just better-looking in real life and up close than on photos, he was pretty. Really, really pretty, and muscular but not like Noah, more in a lithe, graceful way. His eyes were the bluest I'd ever seen and that's when I noticed - he was as shocked as I was.

We stared at each other, both speechless, though I had no idea why he would be paralyzed. I wasn't a world-famous person who looked like a literal star. Next to Luca, I saw Noah bite his lip, looking anxious but not at all surprised, as if he had somehow expected this tension.

It felt like the moment went on forever, but pretty quickly Luca collected his wits, cleared his throat and held out his hand. "Hi Emma, I'm Luca. It's nice to meet you." Even his voice was beautiful, musical.

I shook his warm hand. "Nice to meet you too," I managed to answer.

Luca slowly turned his head to his brother and they exchanged a long, serious glance. "A moment?"

"Yeah," Noah said, "Sorry, Emma, excuse us."

They went into the hallway again and as I sat down on the brown leather sofa, I heard them whisper-shouting at each other in what was probably that same language as before, every once in a while saying something that sounded suspiciously like my name. What was that about?

Gabrielle just had to hear about this. I didn't tell her or my other friends much about Noah but this, with Luca, was too weird.

I'm at Noah's place. You're not gonna believe this. First, turns out he's rich, THEN his brother shows up. Luca. You know, the Louis XIV singer.

I sent this message and then was a little unsure after all whether I should keep talking — but the whisper-shouting match went on and Gabrielle's answer already came in. That girl was glued to her phone.

No way! Is he nice? Or a total diva?

He's barely said a word. Just arrived, flabbergasted when he saw me, and now they're fighting. About me, I think, not sure.

They came back in before I had a chance to read Gabrielle's reply. Both men stil looked riled up, but not antagonistic, and Luca looked most of all completely bewildered. Noah went over to a bar cart set in the corner of the room, poured an amber-colored drink into a glass and pushed it into Luca's hands, who drank it in one big gulp and held the glass out to Noah. Noah refilled it, but this time Luca took only one small sip before sitting down and smiling at me. I didn't think I'd ever seen a more enticing smile, not even on Noah. What was it with this family? Their shared father had to be crazy attractive.

"I'm sorry about that, Emma. Forgive me. Ah… Noah just hadn't mentioned you look like that."

I looked over to Noah, who was still looking tense and even a little guilty. And he should — either he'd set very low expectations about me to his brother, or he had just barely mentioned me at all. Either way, it was still a strange explanation; even if what Luca said was true, that wouldn't have warranted a brotherly argument.

"Sure. Um, so…" I wanted to change topics, act interested and especially normal, but I had no idea what to talk about. What did you ask someone this famous when you met him, anyway?

Noah sat down next to me, holding a glass of that amber stuff — whisky, I assumed — himself, and handed me a glass of wine. "How's Diana doing?" he asked, then turned to me. "Diana is Luca's twin sister. So, my half-sister."

"Oh, she's alright," Luca shrugged. "I think she's somewhere in South Africa at the moment. Something to do with poachers. She works in animal conservation, among other things," he explained to me. "So, Emma, where are you from?"

We slipped into easy conversation pretty quickly and the tension disappeared as Noah and Luca calmed down. Luca turned out to be attentive, interested, and amicable; once I'd gotten used to his good looks, it was easy to forget I was sitting across from a rockstar. He got visibly excited when I told him about my college major and wholeheartedly agreed with Noah that I should find a way to get back in the art scene and leave my current dead-end job, even offering to help me out with some of his contacts. It sometimes seemed as if he wanted to say something but was then silenced by a head shake from Noah, but other than that he was an open book, telling me all about his life on the road and even some stories about fellow stars that I had to swear I wouldn't tell anyone else. He seemed a lot smarter than I would've given him credit for before I'd met him, and when the night neared its end I was almost disappointed he had to leave. Almost, because I couldn't wait to talk to Noah, who had been pretty quiet all night, alone.