Gabriel's Rapture (Gabriel's Inferno #2)(68)

He let out an expletive and pulled her into his arms. “If anything ever happened to you…”

She returned his embrace, exhaling slowly against his dress shirt. “It was Christa Peterson.”

“What?” He pulled back so he could see her face.

“Christa accused me of exchanging sexual favors with you for academic benefits.”

“What?”

While Julia hurriedly described the nature of the complaint and David and Soraya’s exchanges, Gabriel’s expression grew darker and more dangerous. When she quoted David’s final words, he took a large step away from her.

He reared back and thrust his fist through the wall. Then, for good measure, he withdrew, dragging fragments of plaster and dust with him, before punching through the wall twice more in rapid succession.

Julia stood, open-mouthed, as Gabriel trembled before her, eyes closed and chest heaving. Part of her wanted to run, but she found herself rooted to the spot.

No matter how much she wanted to run at that moment, the sight of a few drops of blood dripping from his knuckles and onto the hardwood floor captured her attention.

“What have you done to yourself?” She looked up into his blazing eyes and pulled him toward the guest washroom. “Sit down.” Once he was situated, she examined his knuckles and found the skin had split in more than one place.

“You might need stitches,” she said. “I’m worried you’ve broken something.”

Gabriel opened and closed his hand several times, wordlessly demonstrating that his hand wasn’t broken.

“I think you should have an x-ray, just in case.”

His only response was to rub at his eyes with his uninjured hand and heave a deep, shuddering sigh.

She opened the medicine cabinet and removed a few first aid items. “I’ll try to clean this, but you should go to the hospital.”

“I’ll be fine.” His voice was tight.

Using tweezers, she removed the bits of plaster from his wounds and cleaned them with iodine. Gabriel barely flinched as she bathed his knuckles, and she noticed that he was shaking, possibly from residual anger.

“I’m sorry I upset you,” Julia whispered.

“I nearly brought a wall down, and you’re apologizing to me?”

“I should have told you when you were sitting down. Or after you’d had a drink.”

He shook his head. “Then I really would have knocked the wall down. I’m too angry to drink.”

Julia continued her first aid until the wound was completely clean. When she was finished, she ghosted her lips over his bandaged knuckles. “I’m so sorry.”

Gabriel caught her hand in his. “Stop it. I seem to remember another time in this washroom when I was the one playing doctor.”

“I was mortified. I wanted to make a good impression and then I smashed your crystal and sprayed your nice shirt with Chianti.”

“It was an accident. I had to work up the courage to put iodine on your cuts. I was afraid of hurting you. And that was before I…”

He closed his eyes and rubbed at them again. “What happened to you today is my fault. I should have protected you.”

“Gabriel,” Julia said, her voice a warning. She leaned over and took his face between her hands, forcing him to look at her. “Don’t. We knew the risks when we got involved. I don’t care what they do to me.” Her voice broke on the words, but she spoke them anyway. “I don’t care about Harvard or my PhD. I don’t want to lose you.”

A strange fire illuminated Gabriel’s eyes. “Not even Hell could keep me from you,” he whispered.

The lovers embraced desperately, drawing comfort from each other’s very skin.

“Are you going to tell me what happened with Professor Martin?”

Gabriel took Julia’s hand and led her into the master bathroom where he began drawing a bath. “You relax, I’ll talk.”

“I’m not in the mood for a bubble bath. I kind of feel like taking a crow bar to something.”

(Something appalling and poorly made. Like domestic beer.)

“That’s why you need a bubble bath. I have to preserve the walls of my apartment.”

Julia undressed and settled herself amongst the suds. He regarded her intensely—the way her long hair was pinned up haphazardly on top of her head, the gentle contours of her br**sts floating amidst the water like two white, pink tipped lilies, the way she bit at her lip until she realized he was staring at it.

“Do you remember the first time we bathed together?” she asked as she watched him settle his tall form on a low stool.

“I’m not likely to forget it.”

“You were worried I was hurting, and you carried me to the tub.” She smiled shyly. “That was one of the kindest things you’ve ever done for me.”

“Thank you.” He gave her a peck on a cheek. “But I can’t reminisce about happy things with you. I’m far too angry for that. I’d like to rip out David Aras’s tongue and strangle him with it.”

“What about Professor Martin?”

Gabriel paused, clearing his throat. “If Christa’s complaint had stood alone, he would have interviewed me, perhaps spoken to a few others around the department, and concluded that her charge was fabricated. Her complaint against you, however, complicates things.”