Gabriel's Inferno (Gabriel's Inferno #1)(91)

“I won’t let you f**k me.”

Now he sat back in his chair with a look of shock and disgust on his face. He silently resolved that she’d drunk her last glass of champagne.

“I’m sorry, did I ask you to?” His voice was smooth and unruffled, which made Julia even more upset.

Liar. Liar. Beautiful blue eyes on fire.

He grinned at her impertinently, watching her face over the rim of his glass. He wiped his lips with his napkin and brought his face inches from hers. “If I were to ask you to do anything, Miss Mitchell, it wouldn’t be that.” He smiled, sat back in his seat, and almost cheerfully finished his dinner without another word.

Julia seethed. She knew he was staring at her; she could feel his eyes on her face, her mouth, her shoulders, which were shaking. Nothing escaped those piercing blue eyes. She felt as if he could read her soul, and still he did not look away.

“Julianne,” he said at last. He moved his hand underneath the table to catch her wrist and pull it out of her lap, brushing the top of her thigh as he did so.

His voice was gentle and smooth, and Julia felt the warmth of his touch travel all the way to her toes.

“Look at me.”

She tried to withdraw her hand, but he held her fast.

“Look at me when I’m speaking to you.”

Julia slowly raised her eyes to his. They were softer and less ominous than his tone, but remarkably intense.

“I would never, ever, f**k you. Clear? One doesn’t f**k an angel.”

“Then what does someone like you do with an angel?” Her voice trembled slightly.

“Someone like me  would cherish her. Try to get to know her and puzzle her out. Start by being…friends, perhaps.”

She squirmed under his grasp. “Friends with benefits?”

“Julianne…” Gabriel’s voice held a warning in it. He released her hand and stared at her momentarily. “Is it too much to believe that I want to know you? That I want to take my time?”

“Yes.”

He bit back a curse. “This is new for me, Julianne. Your prejudice is warranted to some degree, but don’t deliberately try my patience.”

“We both know that professors are never friends with their students.”

“We could be,” he whispered, gently pushing her hair back behind her shoulder and allowing his fingertips to graze the exposed curve of her neck. “If that’s what you want.”

She didn’t know how to react to this stunning utterance, so she angled away from him.

“I don’t seduce virgins, Julia. Your virtue is safe with me.” And with that, he cleared the dinner dishes and disappeared into the kitchen.

Julia finished her champagne in two quick swallows.

He’s a liar. If I hadn’t said no, he’d have flashed his signature smile and had me naked and spread-eagled before my panties even hit the floor. And he’d probably demand that we reproduce one of the poses from his black-and-white photographs. Then Paulina would call right in the middle of it.

Gabriel returned and hastily removed her glass and the bottle of champagne. A few minutes later, he brought her an espresso served with a small twist of lemon rind. Julia was surprised. It was difficult to imagine him zesting his own lemons, but nevertheless, there it was — perfect and fresh lemon rind.

“Thank you, Gabriel. Espresso Roma is my favorite.”

He looked at her smugly. “I thought it was time we switched you to something non-alcoholic before you threw up on me.”

Julia scowled. She felt fine. She felt slightly less inhibited but still in command of her faculties. She thought.  “What did you write in the card?

The one you left on my porch?”

Gabriel stiffened. “So you didn’t read it?”

“I was upset.”

He shrugged. “Then I suppose it’s a good thing you didn’t.” He turned on his heel and disappeared.

Julia sipped her espresso slowly, trying to guess what he’d written. It must have been something sufficiently intimate for him to be so out of sorts.

She wondered if the pieces of the card were still in the flowerbed in front of her building and if she would be able to piece them together.

A few minutes later, Gabriel returned with a single piece of chocolate cake and one fork. “Dessert?” He moved his chair so that he was sitting closer to her — too close, actually.

“Julianne,” his voice sang in her ear, “I know you’re partial to chocolate.

I bought this to please you.”

He held the fork under her nose, just so she could pick up the scent.

She licked her lips involuntarily. It smelled divine. She reached out to take the fork from him, but he snatched it out from underneath her hand. “No.

You need to let me feed you.”

“I’m not a child.”

“Then stop acting like one. Trust me. Please.”

Julia turned her face and shook her head, resisting the urge to watch as he brought the fork up to his own mouth and darted his tongue out to catch some of the frosting.

“Mmmmmm. You know, the act of feeding someone is the ultimate act of care and affection…sharing yourself with someone else through food.” He held another mouthful of cake under her nose. “Think about it.

We are fed in the Eucharist, by our mothers when we are infants, by our parents as children, by friends at dinner parties, by a lover when we feast on one another’s bodies…and on occasion, on one another’s souls. Don’t you want  me to feed you? You don’t want to feast on my body, but at least feast on my cake.”