Gabriel's Inferno (Gabriel's Inferno #1)(96)

“A surprise?”

“Yes.” He smiled and waited.

She wrinkled her nose. “Will you tell me what the surprise is?”

“If I tell you, it won’t be a surprise.”

She rolled her eyes, and he laughed at her.

“Baci,”  he said.

Julia paused. Kisses?

Gabriel saw her reaction and realized the double entendre had not been understood. He pulled something from one of the grocery bags and placed it in the center of his right palm, holding it out to her as one might hold out an apple to tempt a horse.

The similarity was not lost on Julia, who looked at the small, foil-wrapped chocolate with an upturned nose.

“I thought you liked them,” he said, a tinge of hurt coloring his voice.

“When Antonio gave you one, you said they were your favorite.”

“They are. But I’m not supposed to take chocolates from men, remember? I think you gave me an order to that effect when we were at Lobby 

with Rachel.” Julia took the proffered chocolate and eagerly unwrapped it, popping it into her mouth.

“I don’t order you around.”

She gaped at him while she chewed and swallowed her chocolate.

“Are you kidding?”

“No.”

“What planet are you from? Hello, my name is Gabriel, and I’m from the planet of bossy-no-self-awareness.”

He frowned. “Very amusing, Julianne.” He cleared his throat and searched her eyes. “Be serious for a moment. You think I order you around?”

“Gabriel, you do nothing but. You only have one form of direct address, and it’s the imperative; do this, do that, come here. On top of all that, like Paul, you seem to think I belong in a zoo. Or a children’s book.”

At the mere mention of Paul’s name Gabriel’s frown deepened into a scowl. “Someone had to attend to our situation yesterday. I was trying to protect both of us. And I asked you to talk to me, Julianne. I tried to talk to you for days, but you spurned me.”

“What was I supposed to do? You’re an emotional rollercoaster, and I wanted to climb off. I never know whether you’re going to be sweet and whisper something that takes my breath away or say something so f**king mean  it breaks my…” She stopped herself.

Gabriel cleared his throat. “I apologize for being mean. There’s no excuse for that.”

She muttered something under her breath as he stared at her.

“I find you — difficult to talk to sometimes. I never know what you’re thinking, and you’re only forthcoming when you’re furious. Like now.”

She sniffed. “I’m not furious.”

“Then I need you to talk to me a little.” His voice was soft again.

He took a risk and began running his fingers through her long, damp curls. “You smell like vanilla,” he whispered.

“It’s your shampoo.”

“So you think I’m bossy?”

“Yes.”

Gabriel sighed. “It’s habit, I suppose. Years of living alone have made me boorish, and I’m out of practice with being considerate. But I’ll try to watch how I speak to you in future. As for Paul and the pet names, it’s insulting that he refers to you as a rabbit. Rabbits end up as entrées, so that needs to stop. But what about kitten?  I thought that was rather…sweet.”

“Not when you’re twenty-three and petite and trying to be taken seriously in Academia.”

“What about when you’re twenty-three and beautiful and someone who’s thirty-three and a professional academic says it to you because actually, he thinks you’re seriously sexy?”

Julia pulled away. “Don’t make fun of me, Gabriel. That’s mean.”

“I would never make fun of you.” He gave her a serious look. “Julianne, look at me.”

She kept her eyes on the floor.

He waited somewhat impatiently until she met his gaze again. “I would never make fun of you. And certainly not about something like that.”

She grimaced and looked away.

“But perhaps kitten  is a lover’s word.”

Julia reddened as he continued unpacking the groceries. At length, he turned to her. “It meant a great deal to me to fall asleep with you in my arms last night. Thank you.”

She avoided his eyes.

“Look at me, please,” he breathed.

Their eyes met, and Julia was surprised at Gabriel’s expression. He looked worried. “Are you ashamed of coming to my bed?”

She shook her head.

“It reminded me of our first night together.”

“Me too,” she whispered.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you woke up this morning. I was awake at dawn. The sight of you sound asleep reminded me of da Vinci’s La Scapigliata. You looked very serene with your head resting on my shoulder.

And very, very beautiful.” He reached across the breakfast bar and tenderly pressed a kiss to her forehead. “So you slept — well?”

“Too well. Why did you light candles in your bedroom?”

He ran his thumb across one of her eyebrows. “You’d already told me what you thought about the darkness. I wanted you to see Holiday’s painting and me. I didn’t know how you’d feel about staying the night. I was worried you’d run.”