Gabriel's Rapture (Gabriel's Inferno #2)(72)
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that you f**ked up, Gabriel, no matter how you look at it. And I’m not about to jeopardize everything I’ve worked for to cover your ass.”
Professor Emerson was stunned into silence.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were dating her? I hired you, for God’s sake.”
“Because I didn’t think it was anyone’s business who I was sleeping with.”
“You can’t be serious.” Jeremy muttered a curse. “You know the rules governing relationships with students. Since you kept your relationship secret from me and everyone else, you look guilty.”
Gabriel gritted his teeth. “Jeremy, can I count on your support or not?”
“I’ll do what I can, but that might not be much. If I were you, I’d notify the Faculty Association and make sure you bring your union representative to the hearing.”
“This is a witch hunt that was started by a disgruntled graduate student. Christa Peterson is trying to have me fired.”
“You might be right. But before you get on your soapbox, realize that you violated university policy. That makes it much easier for the administration to infer that you’re guilty of other infractions. And by the way, I received an email from the Dean asking me about the M. P. Emerson bursary. For your sake, I hope your fingerprints aren’t on it.”
Gabriel let loose with a string of curses. Jeremy interrupted him.
“If you don’t have a lawyer, my friend, now would be the time to hire one.”
Gabriel muttered something and hung up the phone, walking swiftly to his dining room to pour himself a drink.
* * *
Although Gabriel notified the Faculty Association of his situation, he declined their offer to accompany him to the hearing. John was of the opinion that his legal acumen was far more threatening than that of the union, but he was willing to admit that should the matter result in charges, it would be appropriate at that point to involve them.
John’s advice was to stonewall, although he urged Gabriel to coach Julianne on what not to say. Failing that, he had every intention of arguing that she was an unstable, impressionable student who had become fixated on Gabriel at a young age and had seduced him.
Hoping that his client would follow instructions, John didn’t bother to explain this strategy.
Soraya’s advice paralleled that of John. She told Julia to say nothing and if pressed, to blame Gabriel for everything. Soraya almost cackled with glee at the prospect of arguing that he was the older, rakish professor who had seduced an innocent young woman with promises of a long and happy future. When Julia declared that she wanted to tell the truth, Soraya told her that that was a very bad idea. She planned to bring up Gabriel’s promiscuous reputation and brushes with law enforcement.
Like John, she anticipated a cooperative client and thus didn’t bother articulating the details of her strategy.
The night before the hearing, Julia was awakened mid-dream by the sound of something tapping against her apartment window. At first, she thought she was still dreaming. When the sound repeated, this time more loudly, she exited her bed and pulled aside the curtain. There, standing with his nose almost pressed against the glass, was Gabriel. He looked slightly wild, eyes frantic, wearing his beret and his winter coat, standing knee-deep in a snowdrift.
She quickly unlocked the window and stood aside as a gust of frozen air whooshed past him with his entrance into the room. He closed the window soundly, locked it, and drew the curtain.
“Gabriel, what are you—”
She wasn’t given the chance to finish her question as he wrapped her in his arms. She smelled the Scotch before she tasted it, as he pressed his lips to hers. His lips were freezing, it was true, but his mouth and tongue were warm and inviting. And the heat of his kiss, which was deep and sensual, began to blossom across her skin.
“Are you drunk? What happened?”
He pulled away, but only for a moment, so he could divest himself of his hat and coat. Then he was embracing her once again, tracing icy fingers up and down her arms, unbuttoning her pajama top and slipping a hand inside to cradle her breast.
He moved her to the bed as he pulled his shirt out of his trousers, watching her slip off her pajamas as he carelessly dropped everything to the floor. Within an eye blink they were naked and he was pulling her into his arms, tugging her legs around his hips. They’d never been this quick to undress and to love.
As he walked her to the closed door and pressed her back against it, his movements grew frantic and desperate. His cold fingers teased her while his mouth trapped her breast, sucking and nipping.
She was crying out already, still shocked at his speechless fervor.
A few moments later she was distracted by the difference in temperature between their bodies: the taut, hard coldness of his chest pressing against her soft, warm curves. When he felt with thawing fingertips that she was ready, he thrust up into her, grunting into the crook of her neck in preliminary satisfaction, his upper body relaxing slightly at the feel of her. There was no space between their bodies or air between their skin.
Julia moaned appreciatively at the sensation of being one with her beloved. Her hands immediately slid from his shoulders to his hips, and she pulled at his lower back to encourage him forward. It was a cacophony of unembarrassed sounds and noises, made far more animalistic by its lack of language and of course, the rhythmic bumping of Julia’s back against the heavy wooden door.