Gabriel's Inferno
Page 49

“Why not?”
“Because he made you, that’s why.”
Gabriel’s face immediately softened, and he pressed his lips to the back of her hand.
“Was your father an alcoholic?” she asked.
“I don’t know. He was the ceo of a company in New York and died of a heart attack. I didn’t care to discover anything else about him.”
“Are you an alcoholic?”
“No.”
Julia carefully folded her linen napkin with shaking fingers and pushed her chair back from the table. “I’m glad you’re not doing drugs, and I’m glad you’re in recovery. But I won’t get involved with an alcoholic. Life is too short to be bound to that kind of misery.”
He stared at her steadily, searching her eyes. “I agree. But if you were to spend time with me, you would realize that I am not an alcoholic. And I pledge not to get drunk anymore. It’s unfortunate that I’ve only gotten drunk once in the past six months and you happened to witness it.”
“My mother went in and out of recovery several times, and she never stuck with it. What happens if you start doing drugs again? Not to mention the fact that you have this delusional vision of Beatrice. I’m not her, Gabriel.
You want an ideal, or a drug-induced misperception, not me.”
“I’ve been clean for six years. I didn’t just get out of recovery. Nevertheless, I know that I am deeply, deeply flawed. But I want to know you, just you, as you are. I want you to be yourself, and yes, Julianne, I know you’re more than just a dream. Your reality is far more beautiful and alluring than any dream. I’d choose you over the dream any time.”
A tear slid down her cheek, which she wiped away hastily. “You don’t know me. You never knew me. You held Dante’s Beatrice in your arms that night, the image from his writings and from Holiday’s painting, not me.”
Gabriel shook his head. “What I felt was real. What I did was real.”
“You thought it was real, but that’s part of the illusion.”
“It was real, Julia. It was everything. As soon as I touched you I knew…
and when I touched you again… I remembered you. My body remembered you. It was only my conscious mind that had forgotten.”
“I’m not that little girl anymore. And the woman I am you despised on sight.”
“That is not true. You’ve grown into a lovely young woman.”
“You want a pet kitten.”
“No, Beatrice.”
She spoke through clenched teeth. “Stop calling me that.”
“I’m sorry, Julianne. I know that I hurt you. I know I have a dark side.
Will you let me show you that I can be good? Very, very good?”
“It’s too late. I can’t.” Though it pained her to do so, she walked to the front door, grabbing her knapsack and her coat on the way.
“What about last night?” he asked, striding after her. “Did that mean nothing to you?”
“What should it have meant? Tell me!” She hugged her knapsack close to her chest and backed up against the wall.
He placed his hands on either side of her shoulders and leaned closer.
“Do I have to explain it? Didn’t you feel it?”
He brought his face to hers, his lips inches from her mouth. She could feel his warm breath on her skin. She shivered.
“Feel what?”
“Your body and mine together. You came to me last night, Julianne. You came to my bed. Why did you do that? Why did you tell me you couldn’t stay away? Because we’re soul mates, just like Aristophanes described — one soul in two bodies. You’re my missing half. You’re my bashert.”
“Bashert?  Do you even know what that means? Bashert is bashert, Gabriel; destiny is destiny. It can mean anything you want, and it doesn’t have to mean me.”
He smiled at her widely. “Your linguistic knowledge constantly surprises me.”
“I know that word.”
“Of course, my lovely. Because you’re smart.” He brought his fingertips lightly to her neck, stroking up and down.
“Gabriel — stop it.” She pushed him away so she could think clearly.
“You’re clean, but you’re still an addict. I am the child of an alcoholic. I won’t let this happen.”
“I don’t deserve you. I know that. Conosco i segni dell’antica fiamma.
I felt it the first time I took your hand. The first time I kissed you. And it was all there last night — every feeling, every memory, every sensation I had before was there. It was real. Look at me and tell me it meant nothing to you, and I will let you go.”
She closed her eyes to block out his pleadings, his assertion that he knew the signs of the ancient flame.
“You can’t do it, can you? Your skin remembers me, and so does your heart. You told them to forget, but they can’t. Remember me, Beatrice.
Remember your first.”
His lips met her neck, and she felt her pulse begin to race under his touch. Her body was a traitor; it would not lie. It would not listen to reason.
He could have asked her anything in this position, and she would have agreed to it. The thought made her desperate.
“Please, Gabriel.”
“Please, what?” he whispered, trailing angel soft kisses up and down her neck, finally pausing so he could feel her lifeblood flow under his mouth.
“Please let me go.”
“I can’t.” He tugged her knapsack and her coat out of her hands and dropped them to the floor.
“I don’t trust you.”
“I know.”
“You’ll shatter me, Gabriel, and that will be the end of me.”
“Never.”
He brought his hands to cup her face, and just as she closed her eyes, he paused. Julia waited, expecting the smooth wetness of his lips to connect with hers, but they didn’t. She waited. Then she opened her eyes.
Gabriel’s eyes were large, soft and warm, and staring down at her.
He smiled. He began by stroking her face, gentle caresses here and there, exploring every curve, every line, as if he was memorizing it. He moved to her neck, using a single fingertip from his right hand to travel back and forth. Julia shivered.
He brought his lips to her ear. “Relax, my darling.” He nibbled her earlobe and nuzzled her neck enticingly. “Let me show you what I can do when I take it slow.”
Holding her face in his hands, he brushed his lips to her forehead, her nose, her cheeks, her chin. Only when she closed her eyes a second time did he cover her mouth with his lips. By then, Julia was already breathless.
As soon as their lips met, there was a rush of blood and heat and energy.
But Gabriel was careful and would not speed. His lips matched hers, moving back and forth, their skin humming with the soft friction. But he did not open his mouth. His hands moved to her hair, tangling gently, massaging her scalp and floating downward.
Julia was less gentle as she grabbed at the back of his head, tugging and twining his hair around her fingers. Their mouths continued to press together, smoothing over every inch. His tongue peeked out, and he drew it languorously across her upper lip, tasting her tentatively before sucking her lower lip between his.
It was tempting. It was teasing. It was the slowest kiss he’d ever given.
And it made his heart beat quickly. When she moaned against his mouth, he tilted her head back so that she would open for him. But he would not rush. He waited for her jaw to soften, and when she could wait no more and her own tongue hesitantly came out to meet his, only then did he allow himself to accept her invitation.
She would have responded at a fevered pace, but Gabriel controlled the kiss, and he wished to kiss her softly. Gently. Leisurely. It took half an age for his hands to travel from her face down the sides of her neck so that they were kneading her shoulders. And another half an age for those same hands to slide down her spine and under her clothes to find bare skin. All this time he was slowly exploring her mouth as if he’d never have a second chance.
He gasped and groaned when his hands slipped and found the dimples he’d discovered the night before. He already thought of them as uncharted territory, found first by his explorations, even though he had no right, no right at all to claim her.
His fingers glided across her skin as Julia whimpered and clung to him. Her helpless sounds were more erotic than any wanton moan that had ever filled his ears. It pierced and enflamed him. Then he was pressing up against her, returning soft, delicate curves with sinew and steel, subtly switching places so it was his back that flattened against the wall, for he was unwilling to trap her, to make her feel like she’d been cornered. Instead, he let her corner him.
Julia was breathing his breath, hot and moist inside her mouth. He was her oxygen. She couldn’t stop kissing long enough to truly inhale, and her head began to float. It made the feel of his lips more intense, so she didn’t fight it. She just gave in, licking and sucking and moving…
Gabriel retreated minutely, breaking the kiss.
He let his thumbs trace the curve of the naked skin at her waist. She inhaled quickly, and he hugged her close, wrapping his arms around her and feeling her breasts pressed up against him.
“You need to become accustomed to my lips, Julia, because I intend to kiss you a lot.” He kissed her hair and smiled down at her, looking truly happy.
When she eventually found her voice, it shook. “Gabriel, I make no promises. I agree to nothing. One kiss doesn’t change that.”
His smile disappeared, but he continued to hold her closely. He reached out a finger and pushed some of the hair back from her face.
“Just give me a chance. We can take it slowly and try to heal one another.”
“Last night you spoke of being friends. Friends don’t kiss like that.”
He chuckled. “We can be friends. We can follow the model of courtly love, if you wish. I’ll just have to remember that the next time I kiss you.
And so will you.”
Julia looked away. “I don’t trust you enough to be anything else. And even if I did, you’ve got the wrong girl. You will be sorely disappointed with me.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You will never be satisfied only with me, and you will leave once you realize that. So have mercy on me and choose someone more sexually compatible before one of us ends up hurt.”
She watched as the color in his face deepened and his eyes began to blaze. She waited for him to explode.
“What did he do to you?”
That was not the question she expected. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Gabriel looked at her carefully, measuring her expression. He stood away from the wall and drew himself up to his full height, straightening his shoulders. “I don’t know what he did to make you think so little of yourself, but I  am not him. Didn’t our night in the orchard demonstrate that our connection is not based on sex?” He stroked her hair for a moment with a gentleness that belied the fierceness of his tone. “I could kill him for doing this to you,” he whispered, “for crushing your spirit.