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.
Their coupling was loud and fast, perhaps the most intense physical connection they’d ever had, topping even their sex against the wall in Florence. Soon they were exploding jointly into bliss, hearts racing and blood pumping, clutching one another and crying out. Then finally, finally, they collapsed into a tangle of flesh and limb in limpid satisfaction on Julia’s narrow bed.
Gabriel was on top of her, but she would not let him move. He shifted slightly to distribute his weight to the mattress, but he too was unwilling to break the contact of skin against skin.
She petted his hair and told him how much she loved him as he buried his nose in the hollow of her throat, inhaling her scent. She told him that he didn’t need to drink, that he could talk to her, instead.
Gabriel sighed against her neck. “I am talking to you,” he whispered, pressing insistent kisses across her shoulder. “You aren’t listening.”
Before Julia could argue, he began exploring her mouth. Further discussion was silenced as he enticed her to join with his body once more.
When she awoke the next morning the apartment was quiet. In fact, there was no sign of her evening visitor apart from an unlocked window and the scent of Gabriel and sex that clung to her body and the bed.
She searched the studio expecting a note, a message, something. But there was nothing, not even