Gabriel’s Inferno Trilogy by Sylvain Reynard Page 0,239

hand across the sheet to reach for him, he was pressing near her.

“Just let me look, darling.” His whisper was hesitant.

She had no idea what he was asking, so she simply hummed her permission. Then tentative fingers grasped her knees and a gentle hand lifted one, angling and spreading her wide, but not too wide. Now her eyes were open.

Gabriel froze as their eyes made contact. “Just a quick look to make sure you’re all right.”

When he’d attended himself in the washroom, he hadn’t noticed any blood. The realization had relieved him more than he could express. His eyes flickered down, and soon he was sighing, his shoulders relaxing. He pressed something warm and soft between her legs.

She flinched.

“I’m sorry.” Again he pressed the damp cloth to her sensitive flesh. There were a couple of pinkish spots on it, but nothing alarming. In truth, he wished there had been no pink at all, but pink was infinitely better than red.

“I’m fine. You just surprised me.” Julia’s voice shook, but only because she was still floating, and the feeling of him touching her there had intensified her sensations.

Gabriel picked up a glass of water from the nightstand and placed it in one of her hands, shaking two a little white pills from a medicine bottle into the other.

“Ibuprofen,” he explained, hastily. “For the pain.”

“It’s not that bad, Gabriel. I wouldn’t call it pain.”

“Please,” he begged.

She was puzzled by his overreaction but elected not to be stubborn, popping the pills quickly into her mouth and downing the entire glass of water. She was thirsty.

When he’d soothed her and cleaned her up, he scooped her into his arms, kissing her forehead over and over. He carried her across the threshold of the bathroom.

Julia heard the water running before they walked through the door. “What’s happening?” she managed, holding her head up.

“Let me care for you, baby.” He kissed her forehead and gently placed her in the large and inviting bathtub.

The hot water and rose scented bubbles were comforting. She was still dreamy, but things were slowly coming into focus. She opened her eyes and saw Gabriel standing over her, still naked, still glorious, checking the temperature of the water with his fingers and adjusting the taps.

“Are you still thirsty?”

She nodded.

He disappeared for a moment and returned with a garnet-colored liquid in a wine glass.

“Cranberry with soda,” he said. “It’s good for you.”

She arched an eyebrow at him, wondering how he became an expert at warding off female problems, but once again, decided not to pursue the question. She drank greedily and passed him the empty glass.

“You changed the music. What is it?”

“Sogno by Andrea Bocelli.”

“It’s pretty,” she murmured.

“Not as pretty as you.”

He turned off the water and climbed in behind her, placing his long legs on either side of her body, pulling her to his chest. They each sighed in contentment. She leaned her head back on his shoulder, and he stroked her hair, his touch light and gentle.

“Was it—okay for you?” she whispered.

That’s an understatement, he thought.

“Like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. You were perfect. You are perfect.” He pressed his lips to the top of her head, and she snuggled into his arms. “And very, very sexy. How about you?”

“It was even better than I imagined. Thank you.”

He began to run his hands up and down the slick, wet skin around her ribs.

“Why the bath?” she asked, shifting against him slightly, feeling his new arousal against her backside.

His lips found her ear. “I wanted to care for you.”

“Thank you, Gabriel, for your kindness to me. I know things would not have been as pleasant if I was with someone else.”

He kissed her hair. “You deserve far more and far better than me, Beatrice,” he whispered. “La gloriosa donna della mia mente. The glorious lady of my mind.”

“My Dante.” She turned to kiss his wet chest. “When can we do that again?”

Gabriel smiled. “Not until tomorrow. You need to heal first.”

She squirmed slightly. “But it isn’t that bad. You were very careful.”

“After all that we’ve shared, I just want to hold you and be close. Rest in my arms and know that I love you. We’ll be making love again very, very soon.”

Julia felt comforted and let herself relax wholly against his body. She silently thanked the gods of large bathtubs, handsome, sexy lovers, and rose-scented bubble bath. (Not necessarily in that order.) And she thanked the gods of virgins who were about to have sex with their sex-god (no blasphemy intended)