Gabriel's Rapture gi-2

by Sylvain Reynard

“I don’t expect our relationship to be perfect. But there are some things we need to work out and whether that takes a therapist or not, I know it’s going to take time.”

  He met her gaze. “I agree. I want to be able to court you as I

  was unable to back in Toronto. I want to hold your hand as we walk down the street. I’d like to take you to the symphony and kiss you on your front steps.”

  Julia laughed. “We were lovers, Gabriel. You have photographs

  of the two of us in bed together, just over there. Would you really be satisfied with simply courting me?”

  He wove their fingers together. “I want the chance to make things

  up to you — to treat you the way I should have treated you all along.”

  “You were always very generous in bed,” she deflected.

  “But selfish in other ways. Which is why I won’t make love to

  you until I regain your trust.”

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  “C ome again?”

  At least, that’s what Julia wanted to say, but given the context

  she held her tongue. Somehow, her remark didn’t quite seem conso-

  nant with his declaration.

  “I’m worried that if we have sex, it will short circuit the kind of changes we need to make.”

  “So you want to wait?”

  He gave her a scorching look. “No, Julianne, I don’t want to wait. I want to make love to you now and for the rest of the week. I know we should wait.”

  Her eyes widened as she realized that he was serious.

  He kissed her tenderly. “If we’re going to be partners, there has

  to be trust. If you don’t trust me with your mind, how can you trust me with your body?”

  “I think you said that once before.”

  “We’ve come full circle.” He cleared his throat. “And so there isn’t a misunderstanding, when I say trust, I mean completely. I’m hopeful that in time your anger will disappear and you’ll forgive me. I’m hopeful that we’ll be able to work out our need to protect one another, without causing another crisis.” He looked over at her expectantly.

  “I should have waited until you were no longer my student before

  we became involved. I told myself that because we weren’t sleeping together, we weren’t breaking any rules. But I was wrong. And you’re the one who had to pay the price.” He searched her eyes. “You don’t believe me.”

  “Oh, no. I believe you. But the Professor Emerson I knew and

  loved wasn’t exactly a proponent of abstinence.”

  Gabriel’s Rapture

  He frowned. “Perhaps you’re forgetting how our relationship

  began. We abstained the night we met and a good many nights

  afterward.”

  She kissed his mouth repentantly. “Of course. I’m sorry.”

  He rolled onto his side, looking into her eyes. “I’m absolutely

  aching to feel you in my arms, to be joined with you, body and soul.

  But when I’m inside you, I want you to know that I will never leave you. That you are mine and I am yours, forever.” His voice grew

  rough. “That we’re married.”

  “Come again?”

  “I want to marry you. When I make love to you again, I want

  to be your husband.”

  When she gaped at him, he continued quickly. “Richard showed

  me the kind of man I want to become — a man who spends the rest

  of his life loving one woman. I want to make vows to you before

  God and stand in front of our families and make promises to you.”

  “Gabriel, I can’t even contemplate marrying you. I need to learn

  how to be with you again. And frankly, I’m still angry.”

  “I understand that, and my intention is not to rush you. Do you

  remember the first time we made love?”

  She felt her cheeks flame. “Yes.”

  “What do you remember?”

  She paused, a faraway look in her eyes. “You were very intense,

  but kind. You planned everything, even down to that ridiculous

  cranberry juice.

  “I remember that you were arched over me, looking into my

  eyes while you moved, and you said that you loved me. I’ll never

  forget those moments for as long as I live.” She hid her face against his soap-scented neck.

  “Are you shy now?” he asked, tracing the symmetry of her jaw

  with a single finger.

  “A little.”

  “Why? You’ve seen me naked. I’ve worshipped every beautiful

  inch of you.”

  “I miss the connection we had. I haven’t felt whole without it.”

  “I haven’t either. But do you think you could make love to me

  when you don’t trust me? You forget, my love, that I know you. You 355

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  are not the type of woman to place your body where your heart will not go.

  “Do you remember our last time together? You told me that you

  felt like I’d fucked you. The next time I have you naked in my bed, I want you to know without doubt that our union is born of love

  and not lust.”

  “That goal can be realized without getting married,” she huffed.

  “Perhaps. But if you don’t think you can ever trust me enough

  to marry me, maybe you should let me go.”

  Julia’s eyes widened. “Is that an ultimatum?”

  “No. But I want to prove myself to you, and you need time to heal.”

  He examined her expression carefully. “I need something permanent.”

  She gaped at him. “You want something permanent or you need something permanent?”

  He shifted his weight on the bed. “Both. I want you to be my

  wife, but I also want to be the kind of man I should have been before.”

  “Gabriel, you are always trying to win me. When are you going

  to stop?”

  “Never.”

  She threw up her hands in frustration. “Withholding sex so I’ll

  marry you is manipulative.”

  Gabriel’s expression brightened considerably. “I’m not with-

  holding sex. If you were declaring that you weren’t ready to sleep with me and I tried to pressure you, I’d be a manipulative jackass.

  Shouldn’t I be allowed to wait to have sex until our relationship is repaired, and to have that choice respected? Or does ‘no means no’

  only apply to women?”

  “I wouldn’t pressure you if you had an objection to having sex,”

  Julia sputtered. “You were more than patient with me when I wasn’t ready to sleep with you. But what about make-up sex? Isn’t that

  customary?”

  He brought his face very close to hers. “Make-up sex?” The heat

  of his gaze almost scorched her skin. “Is that what you want?” his voice rasped.

  Welcome back, Professor Emerson.

  “Um — yes?”

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  He took a single finger and traced her trembling lower lip. “Tell me,” he prompted.

  She blinked a few times, if only to break the magnetic pull his

  dark blue eyes had on her. He’d rendered her speechless.

  “I want nothing more than to spend days and nights devoted

  to your pleasure, exploring your body, worshipping you. And I will.

  On our honeymoon you will find me the most attentive, inventive

  lover. All my arts will be at your service, and I will endeavor to undo all wrongs when I take you to my bed, as my wife.”

  Julia placed her head just over the place where his tattoo lay hidden underneath his crisp white shirt. “How can you be so — cold?”

  Gabriel rolled her so she was wholly in his arms and on top of

  his che
st, their upper bodies pressed together.

  He kissed her gently at first, soft skin gliding over softer skin

  before he pulled her lower lip between his, drawing on it slightly.

  Then as his embrace became more heated, his hand clasped around

  her neck, stroking up and down until he felt her relax.

  The barest tip of his tongue moved forward to tease her upper lip, the act of a gentleman who was unsure how he would be received. He needn’t have worried. Julia welcomed him, and he began to explore

  her mouth with purpose, catching her almost unawares before pull-

  ing back without warning.

  “Does that seem cold to you?” His warm breath blew across her

  cheek, a hungry look in his eyes. “Does that feel as if I don’t want you?”

  She would have shaken her head if she could have found it.

  Gabriel moved his lips against her jaw, her chin, and painstak-

  ingly slowly down the left side of her neck until he was kissing the hollow at the base of her throat.

  “And this? Does this seem cold to you?” His mouth moved against

  the surface of her skin.

  “N-No.” She shivered.

  He traced his nose up to her ear where he began to nibble, in

  between whispered adorations.

  “How about this?” His right hand slowly descended her side,

  tracing each rib as if it were precious or perhaps as if he were searching for the primordial one Adam had lost. He shifted her slightly so 357

  Sylvain Reynard

  her thigh slid over his hip, coming into contact with the undeniable evidence of his ardor.

  “Can you deny this?”

  “No.”

  Gabriel gazed at her heatedly. “Now that we’re clear on that point, I’m interested to hear your response.”

  Julia found it difficult to reason clasped to his body the way she was. She began to squirm, and he squeezed her more tightly.

  “There was no one else. My arms were full even when I was

  alone. But if you were to tell me you’d fallen in love with someone else and that you were happy, I’d let you go. Even though it would break me.” He grimaced and dropped his voice to a whisper. “I’ll

  love you forever, Julianne, whether you love me or not. That’s my

  Heaven. And my Hell.”

  The room echoed with silence for several minutes, and Julia

  placed a shaking hand over her mouth. Slow, steady tears poured

  down her face.

  “What is it?” He tugged at her a couple of times before he was

  able to coax her to cry against his chest. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  His voice was desperate, as he quickly rubbed his hand up and down her arm.

  It took a few minutes for Julia to be able to compose herself

  enough to speak. “You love me.”

  Gabriel’s face immediately contorted in confusion. “Is that a

  question?”

  When she didn’t respond him, he began to panic. “You didn’t

  believe that I loved you? But I told you that I loved you over and over again. I tried to show you with my actions, with my words, with my body. Did you not believe me?”

  She shook her head from side to side, as if indicating that he

  didn’t understand.

  “Did you ever believe me? When we were in Italy? When we were

  in Belize?” He tugged painfully at his hair. “My God, Julia, did you make me your first thinking that I merely liked you?”

  “No.”

  “Then why do you only believe that I love you now?”

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  “You’d let me go so I could be happy, even if it was with someone

  else.”

  Two tears streamed down her cheek, and he caught them with

  his fingers. “That’s what happens when you love someone. You want

  them to be happy.”

  She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, and Gabriel

  watched a teardrop slide over the wedding ring she was wearing on

  her thumb.

  “When I found the illustration of St. Francis and Guido de Mon-

  tefeltro, I didn’t understand why you put it there. But it’s clear to me now. You were worried the university was going to ruin my life.

  Rather than let it happen, you took my place. You loved me enough

  to let me go, even though it would break your heart.”

  “Julia, I…” Gabriel’s protestation was cut short by the warmth

  of her lips melting against his. It was chaste and sorrowful, erotic and joyous.

  She had never felt herself worthy of agape before. It wasn’t a goal she aspired to or a grail that she sought. When Gabriel first told her that he loved her, she believed him. But the magnitude and depth

  of his love was not readily apparent. It had only become clear to her at this moment, and with that revelation came a tremendous sense

  of awe.

  Perhaps Gabriel’s love had always been sacrificial. Perhaps it had grown over time, just like the old apple tree that fed them on that night so long ago, and she just hadn’t noticed how much it had grown.

  At that moment, the genesis of his sacrificial love didn’t mat-

  ter. Having been confronted with what she could only describe as

  something very deep, she knew that she could never doubt his love

  now. Gabriel loved her as he knew her, fully, completely, and without question.

  He pulled away, pressing his palm to her face. “I’m not a noble

  man. But the love I have for you can’t be turned off. When I came

  to you at your apartment, my intention was to tell you that I loved you and to see that you were all right. And if you sent me away…”

  He took a deep breath. “I’d go.”

  “I’m not going to send you away,” she whispered. “And I’ll do

  my best to help you any way I can.”

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  “Thank you.”

  She moved so he was cradling her against his chest.

  “I’m sorry I left.” He pressed their lips together.

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  In the days and weeks that followed, Julia and Gabriel saw each

  other as much as they could, but between his preparation for the

  fall semester and her extended shifts at Peet’s, most of their contact was mediated via telephone and email.

  Julia continued her counseling sessions with Dr. Walters, which

  took on a new dimension upon Gabriel’s return. Gabriel and Julia

  began couple’s counseling, as well, on a weekly basis, which rapidly morphed into (unofficial) pre-marital preparations.

  By the time Julia moved into one of the graduate student resi-

  dences in August, she and Gabriel had managed to address several

  of their previous communication problems. But their collective ob-

  stinance remained. Gabriel wouldn’t sleep with her until they were married, and Julia wished to move their physical relationship forward, incrementally. Gabriel was loath to share a bed with her except on occasion and then only reluctantly, with the grim visage of a martyr.

  On one such evening, Julia lay awake in his arms long after he’d

  fallen asleep. His body was warm and his words had been sweet,

  but she felt rejected. The passionate Professor hadn’t needed much persuasion to reconnect with Paulina when she sought him out. But

  he wouldn’t love Julia with his body, even though he pledged his

  eternal devotion.

  As Gabriel’s chest rose and fell beneath her cheek, she contem-

  plated the path her life had taken. She wondered if Beatrice had

  spent some of her evenings earnestly desiring Dante’s presence, yet having to
settle for the fact that he would only worship her from afar.

  “Julia.”

  Sylvain Reynard

  She started at the sound of her name. He muttered something

  and tightened his grip on her, pulling her closer.

  A lone tear escaped her eye.

  She knew he loved her. But the knowledge was sharp and sweet.

  He was trying to let go of the past with Paulina and the other women, and she was paying the price. But perhaps it was no more than the

  price he’d paid for the shame she’d carried because of Simon.

  He mumbled again and this time she whispered in his ear. “I’m

  here.”

  She pressed her lips to his tattoo and closed her eyes.

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  Despite the pain of their continued physical separation, Julia

  recognized that Gabriel was constantly discovering new and

  ingenious ways to demonstrate his love. Though she found their new situation difficult, she continued to have faith in him.

  He refused to even entertain the notion of spending the night

  inside her small dorm room, but he’d drop in on occasion with

  flowers or food, and they would picnic on the floor. He took her

  to the movies, (even deigning to see a non-subtitled, domestically produced romantic comedy), and kissed her goodnight on the front

  steps of her building.

  On more than one occasion, he spent a Friday or Saturday eve-

  ning in the library with her, writing his new book while she prepared for Professor Marinelli’s seminar. Julia was being wooed in word

  and deed, and she liked it. But she was also unsatisfied, craving the closeness that could only be had when making love.

  Soon it was August twenty-first and they were flying to Phila-

  delphia to help with the preparations for Rachel and Aaron’s wed-

  ding. As they walked into the lobby of the Four Seasons hotel, Julia was stunned to find her father sitting in a wing chair, reading the Philadelphia Inquirer.

  “My dad is here,” she hissed, hoping to give Gabriel enough of a

  head start so he could make it to the elevators before Tom took out one of his hunting rifles and shot him.

  “I know. I called him.”

  She turned to Gabriel in wide-eyed disbelief. “Why would you

  do that? He wants to kill you.”

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  The Professor pulled himself up to his full height. “I want to

  marry you. That means that I need to make amends with your father.