The Prince (The Florentine 0.5)(13)

She kissed him temptingly, teasing him with her tongue.

“Make love to me beneath the stars, Gabriel,” she whispered.

He pushed a lock of hair away from her face. “I would give you anything, just to make you smile. But tonight, let me love you indoors.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but he continued, his sapphire eyes serious. “Please.”

She kissed him once again and took his hand, leading him through the terrace doors and into the bedroom.

Gabriel locked the doors behind them and pulled the curtains, proceeding to light candles around the room.

Julia retreated to one of the bathrooms in order to slip into something seductive.

They didn’t always have music playing in the background when they made love. Many of their couplings were spontaneous. But on this night, Gabriel chose to play the series of songs they’d listened to the first time they’d visited Florence together, when she’d given her virginity to him.

Julia heard the gentle voice of Matthew Barber fill the air as she admired herself in the mirror. She’d chosen a long nightgown in black silk. The gown had a slit on one side, which exposed a shapely leg, and she’d added thigh-high sheer black stockings.

Because her husband had a thing for her in high heels, she slipped into a pair of black patent stilettos before she exited the bathroom.

Her husband was reclining on the bed, shirtless, clad only in his favorite pair of worn, faded jeans.

She took a moment to admire his athletic form, the definition of his pectoral and abdominal muscles, the light dusting of hair on his chest, and the muscles of his biceps that flexed as he sat up.

“Here is an angel, fallen to earth,” he whispered, his blue eyes alight with erotic fire.

His gaze traveled from her eyes to her hair and down the length of her body, pausing to admire her legs and stockings before coming to rest on her shoes.

He licked his perfect lips.

She pushed her hair behind her ears. “I went shopping. Do you like it?”

Gabriel’s eyes blazed as he stood.

He strode toward her and placed his hands on either side of her face, bringing their lips together in a searing kiss.

“Like is not the appropriate word.”

He dropped to his knees in front of her, cupping her backside with his hands. He pulled her toward his mouth, pressing a kiss to the place where her navel lay hidden beneath the black silk.

“You’re breathtaking,” he murmured, looking up at her. “But I’m looking forward to peeling you out of this.”

She ran her fingers through his dark, tousled hair, pausing to kiss his forehead.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, Mrs. Emerson.”

He touched her ankle before sliding his hand all the way to the top of her stockings. He traced the lace before pulling the thigh-high down achingly slowly. Once he’d removed it, he replaced her shoe on her foot.

While he was repeating the same movements on her other leg, she rested her hand on his shoulder.

“A bit off balance?” He winked.

She floated her hand across his jaw. “In some cultures, you’d be worshipped. Instead, you’re my husband and you’re kneeling at my feet.”

He paused his movements and glanced down at the ring on his left hand. He lifted it, watching in silent fascination as the candlelight shone over the smooth platinum.

“I long to worship you.”

She lifted his hand and kissed the place where the ring lay. “I long to be worshipped by you.”

In a flash, he was on his feet and she was in his arms, their mouths fused. He kissed her deeply, picking her up and carrying her to the bed.

There were no more words as he divested her of her nightgown and the thin scrap of lace that purported to be underwear. He kissed his way from the tops of her inner thighs all the way down to her high heels.

Then he, too, was naked and their bodies were tangling together in the center of the spacious white bed.

He pressed his hand to her hip as he adored her neck, kissing and tasting her smooth and perfect skin.

She reached for his backside, urging him forward and he complied, entering her swiftly.

She cried out immediately, in pain.

“Julianne?” He lifted himself on one arm.

She was grimacing, eyes screwed shut.

He withdrew from her immediately, panic washing over him. “What happened? Are you all right?”

She inhaled a deep breath.

“I’m okay. Something was off.”

His dark eyebrows knitted together. “I’m sorry.”

She pressed her hand on her lower abdomen, testing the area.

He sat back on his knees, watching her. “I thought you were ready. Forgive me.”

She smiled at him wanly. “There’s nothing to forgive. I invited you inside. I’m not sure what happened.”

Gabriel moved beside her, tugging her into his arms, his body tense.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead and closed his eyes as his head rested back on the pillow. His face was pained.

She reached for his hand, interlacing their fingers. “It must have been the angle. We can continue.”

His jaw clenched and he shook his head.

Julianne brought their conjoined hands between her legs and encouraged him to touch her.

After a moment, Gabriel began to stroke her with a single finger.