Gabriel's Inferno (Gabriel's Inferno #1)(202)

“Like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. You were perfect. You are perfect.” He pressed his lips to the top of her head, and she snuggled into his arms. “And very, very sexy. How about you?”

“It was even better than I imagined. Thank you.”

He began to run his hands up and down the slick, wet skin around her ribs.

“Why the bath?” she asked, shifting against him slightly, feeling his new arousal against her backside.

His lips found her ear. “I wanted to care for you.”

“Thank you, Gabriel, for your kindness to me. I know things would not have been as pleasant if I was with someone else.”

He kissed her hair. “You deserve far more and far better than me, Beatrice,” he whispered. “La gloriosa donna della mia mente.  The glorious lady of my mind.”

“My Dante.” She turned to kiss his wet chest. “When can we do that again?”

Gabriel smiled. “Not until tomorrow. You need to heal first.”

She squirmed slightly. “But it isn’t that bad. You were very careful.”

“After all that we’ve shared, I just want to hold you and be close. Rest in my arms and know that I love you. We’ll be making love again very, very soon.”

Julia felt comforted and let herself relax wholly against his body. She silently thanked the gods of large bathtubs, handsome, sexy lovers, and rose-scented bubble bath. (Not necessarily in that order.) And she thanked the gods of virgins who were about to have sex with their sex-god (no blasphemy intended) boyfriends for the mother of all orgasms. Thrice over.

In the wee hours of the morning, the Edenic lovers wound themselves around each other, flesh against flesh, sleepy and sated in a large, white bed.

Lightness and darkness, innocence and experience, kissed and caressed in the warmth and acceptance created by their love. The dark angel whispered to his muse in Italian until she fell asleep in his arms, happier than she had ever been. She was loved.

The End