“You didn’t hurt me. It felt different this time — more intense.
Every time you moved, the most incredible feeling passed through
me. I couldn’t open my eyes.”
Gabriel smiled to himself in relief and pressed his lips to her
forehead.
“That position is deeper. And don’t forget all our foreplay at the museum. I couldn’t keep my hands off you during dinner.”
“That’s because you knew I’d lost my panties.”
“That’s because I want you. Always.” He offered her a half-smile.
“Every time with you is better than the last,” she whispered.
His expression grew wistful. “But you never say my name.”
“I say your name all the time. It’s a wonder you haven’t come
up with a pet name you’d rather I use, such as Gabe, or Dante, or
The Professor.”
“That’s not what I meant. I mean you never say my name — when
you come.”
She lifted her chin so she could see his face. His expression
matched his tone, wistful and momentarily vulnerable. The confident mask had slipped.
“For me, your name is synonymous with orgasm. I’m going to
start calling them Emgasms.”
He laughed loudly, a hearty, chest-bouncing chuckle that required
Julia to sit up. She joined him in his laughter, grateful that his moment of melancholy had passed.
43
Sylvain Reynard
“You have quite the sense of humor, Miss Mitchell.” He tilted her
chin upwards so he could worship her lips once more before relaxing into the pillows and drifting off to sleep.
Julia stayed awake a little longer as she contemplated the anx-
ious, insecure little boy who revealed himself at rare and unexpected moments.
The following morning Gabriel treated Julia to her preferred
breakfast at Café Perseo, a fine gelateria in the Piazza Signoria. They sat inside because normal December temperatures had returned and
it was rainy and cool.
One could sit by the square all day, every day, and watch the
world walk by. There were old buildings on the perimeter — the
Uffizi was around the corner. There was a tremendously impressive
fountain and beautiful statues, including a copy of Michelangelo’s David and a statue of Perseus holding the dismembered head of Medusa in front of a lovely loggia.
Julia avoided looking at Perseus as she ate her gelato. Gabriel
avoided looking at the legions of beautiful Florentine women in
order to watch his beloved. Hungrily.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like a taste? Raspberry and lemon
are great together.” She held out a spoon where the two flavors
commingled.
“Oh I want a taste. But not of that.” His eyes glinted. “I prefer
something a trifle more exotic.” He nudged his espresso aside so he could take her hand in his. “Thank you for last night and this
morning.”
“I think I’m the one who should be thanking you, Professor.” She
squeezed his hand and busied herself with her breakfast, such as it was.
“I’m surprised there isn’t an outline of my body vaporized onto
the wall of our room.” She giggled, holding out a small spoonful of the frozen treat.
He allowed her to feed him, and when his tongue darted out to
lick his lips, she found herself light-headed. A bevy of images from earlier that morning flashed through her mind. And one remained.
O gods of sex-god boyfriends who enjoy pleasuring their lovers, thank you for this morning.
She swallowed hard. “You know, that was my first time.”
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Gabriel’s Rapture
“It won’t be your last. I promise.” Gabriel licked his lips provocatively, eager to make her squirm.
She leaned over to give him a peck on the cheek. But he was
having none of that. He snaked a hand to the back of her neck and
pulled her closer.
Her mouth was sweet with gelato and the unique taste that was
Julia. He groaned when he released her, wishing he could take her
back to the hotel for a repeat of last night’s performance, or perhaps to the museum…
“Can I ask you something?” She busied herself with her bowl so
she didn’t have to meet his gaze.
“Of course.”
“Why did you say that I was your fiancée?”
“Fidanzata has multiple meanings.”
“The primary meaning is fiancée.”
“Ragazza doesn’t express the depth of my attachment.” Gabriel wiggled his toes in his new, tight shoes. His mouth twitched as he contemplated what to say next, if he should say anything at all. He elected to remain silent, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.
Julia noticed what she perceived to be his physical discomfort.
“I’m sorry about my heels.”
“What’s that?”
“I saw the marks on your backside when you were getting dressed
this morning. I didn’t mean to injure you.”
He grinned wickedly. “Occupational hazard for those obsessed
with high-heeled shoes. I wear my love scars with pride.”
“I’ll be more careful next time.”
“No, you damn well won’t.”
Julia’s eyes grew wide at the sudden flash of passion in his eyes.
He captured her lips with his before whispering in her ear, “I’m
going to buy you a pair of boots with even higher heels, then I’m
going to see what you can do with them.”
As they strolled across the Ponte Vecchio under a shared umbrella, Gabriel persisted in pulling her into shop after shop, trying to tempt her into accepting an extravagant gift of jewelry — Etruscan reproductions, Roman coins, gold necklaces, etc. But she would only smile
45
Sylvain Reynard
and decline, pointing to Grace’s diamond earrings and saying that
they were more than enough. Her lack of attachment to material
things only made him want to heap them at her feet.
When they reached the center of the bridge, Julia tugged at his
arm and led him to the edge so they could gaze out over the Arno.
“There is something you could buy for me, Gabriel.”
He peered over at her curiously, the crisp Florentine air flushing her cheeks. She was goodness, light and warmth and softness. But
terribly, terribly stubborn.
“Name it.”
Julia paused to run her hand over the barrier that separated her
from the edge of the bridge. “I want my scar removed.”
He was almost surprised. He knew that she was ashamed of
Simon’s bite mark. He’d walked in on her applying concealer that
morning, and she’d grown teary when he asked about it.
She avoided his eyes and continued. “I don’t like looking at it. I don’t like the fact that you have to look at it. I want it gone.”
“We could find a plastic surgeon in Philadelphia, while we’re
home for Christmas.”
“Our time at home is so short. I couldn’t do that to my dad. Or
to Rachel.”
Gabriel shifted the umbrella to his other hand and pulled her
into a hug. He kissed her, trailing down to her neck until he made contact with the mark.
“I will gladly do this for you and more. You just have to ask. But I would like you to do something for me.”
“What?”
“I would like you to talk to someone. About what happened.”
Julia lowered her eyes. “I talk to you.”
“I meant someone who isn’t an ass. I can hire a doctor who will
remove the scar from your skin, but no one can remove the scars on the inside. It’s important for you to realize that. I don’t want you to be disappointed.”
“I won’t be. And stop calling yourself names. It upsets me.”
He conceded her point with a nod of the head. “I think it would
help if you had someone to talk to — about everything. Tom, your
46
Gabriel’s Rapture
mother, him, and me.” He gave her a pained look. “I am a difficult man. I know that. I think if you had someone to talk to, it would help.”
She closed her eyes. “I will, but only if you agree to do the same thing.”
He stiffened.
She opened her eyes, speaking quickly. “I know that you don’t
want to, and believe me, I understand. But if I’m going to do this, you need to do it too. You were really angry last night, and even though I know you weren’t angry with me, I had to bear the brunt of it.”
“I tried to make up for it afterward.” He gritted his teeth.
She reached up to stroke his agitated jaw. “Of course. But it
bothered me that you were so upset over an unsolicited pass from
a stranger. And that you thought that sex would relieve your anger and mark me as yours.”
Gabriel’s face registered shock, for he had never interpreted his
actions in that way.
“I would never hurt you.” He squeezed her hand.
“I know.”
Gabriel looked upset, and the panic in his eyes didn’t abate when
Julia reached up to pet his hair a little.
“We’re quite a pair, aren’t we? With our scars and histories and all our problems. A tragic romance, I suppose.” She smiled and tried to make light of their situation.
“The only tragedy would be losing you,” he said, kissing her lightly.
“You’ll only lose me if you stop loving me.”
“I’m a lucky man then. I’ll be able to keep you forever.”
He kissed her once more before wrapping his arms around her.
“Therapy was required when I went into rehab. I continued meet-
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