Gabriel's Inferno (Gabriel's Inferno #1)(142)

The bartender greeted them warmly. “Miss?” he prompted.

“Do you know how to make a Flirtini?”

“Of course, Miss. Coming right up.”

Gabriel’s eyebrows went up, and he leaned over to whisper in her ear,

“That’s an interesting name for a drink. A preview of coming attractions?”

She laughed. “Raspberry vodka, cranberry juice and pineapple. I’ve never had one before, but I read about it online, and it sounded yummy.”

He chuckled, shaking his head.

“Sir?” asked the bartender, handing Julia her drink, garnished with a small slice of pineapple.

“Tonic water with lime, please.”

She was surprised. “You aren’t drinking?”

“There’s a special bottle of wine at my place. I’m waiting for that.” He smiled at her.

Julia waited until Gabriel received his drink so they could toast one another.

“You can bring your — what was it — Flirtini with you. We’re the only guests here.”

“I could nurse one of these all night. They’re pretty strong.”

“We have all the time in the world, Julianne. The entire evening revolves around you…your wants, your desires, your needs.” He winked at her and led her to an elevator. “The exhibit is on the lower level.”

When they entered the elevator, Gabriel turned to her. “Did I tell you how much I missed you this week? The days and nights seemed to last forever.”

“I missed you too,” she said, shyly.

“You look lovely.” He gazed down appraisingly at her high heels. “You are a vision.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s going to take all of my self-control not to spirit you away to the Victorian furniture exhibit so I can make love to you on one of the four poster beds.”

Julia’s eyebrows shot up, and giggling slightly, she wondered what kind of reaction that display would elicit.

He breathed a sigh of relief that his unguarded remark hadn’t caused her to retreat from him. He would have to be more careful.

He’d been actively involved not only in the financing of the exhibit of many of Florence’s treasures, but also in their selection. As they wandered through the several rooms, he offered a few brief words on some of the more impressive items. But mostly they just strolled hand in hand, like a loving couple on a walk, pausing from time to time to embrace or kiss when the mood struck. Which it did, often.

Julia finished her cocktail a bit ahead of schedule, and Gabriel obligingly found a place to leave their glasses. He was happy to have their hands free, finally. She was a Siren for him, an irresistible voice. He stroked her neck, her cheek, her collarbone. He pressed his lips to her hands, her lips, her throat. She was undoing him little by little, and when she smiled or laughed he thought he would catch fire.

They spent quite some time admiring Fra Filippo Lippi’s painting Madonna with the Child and Two Angels, for it was a piece they both admired.

Gabriel stood behind her, his arms wrapped snugly around her waist.

“Do you like it?” he whispered in her ear, resting his chin on her shoulder.

“Very much. I’ve always loved the serenity on the Virgin’s face.”

“Me too,” said Gabriel, lightly drawing his lips from just under her jaw back to below her earlobe, nuzzling her softly. “Your serenity is very alluring.”

Julia’s eyes rolled back into her head. “Mmmmmmmm,”  she moaned aloud.

He chuckled and repeated his movements, allowing the tip of his tongue to move across the surface of her skin. Only a whisper, only a promise, so light she thought it had to be his lips.

“Does that please you?”

She answered him by reaching up to grasp his hair. It was all the encouragement he needed. He turned her around and pressed her to him, moving his arms to the small of her back.

“You are the true work of art,” he murmured against her throat. “You are the masterpiece. Happy birthday, Julianne.”

She gently tugged on his ear with her lips then kissed it softly. “Thank you.”

He kissed her firmly, begging her silently to open for him. Their tongues moved together, slowly. He was unhurried. It was just the two of them in an almost empty museum. He kissed her lips and her cheeks, walking her to a corner of the room, hesitantly backing her toward the wall.

His eyes were wary. “Is this all right?”

She nodded, breathlessly.

“If you want to stop, just tell me. I won’t let things go too far…but I need you.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him in.

He pressed her gently against the wall, molding his body tightly to hers. Every muscle, every plane of his was met by corresponding curves and softness. His hands traveled down her sides and to her hips, hesitating.

She pressed herself more tightly to him in response. And all this time, their tongues and lips explored, never satisfied. His long, thin fingers slid to her back and down so that they were cupping her two rounded, delicious curves.

He squeezed tentatively, and smiled against her mouth when she moaned.

“You’re perfect. Every part of you. But this…” He squeezed her again and began kissing her with renewed vigor.

“Are you telling me you like my ass, Professor?”