Gabriel's Inferno (Gabriel's Inferno 1)

“A young couple. The man ends up studying at Oxford, and I believe he becomes a protégé of C.S. Lewis. It’s a true story.”

“I’d love to go to Oxford, to see where the Inklings drank their beer and spun their tales. Katherine Picton talks about Oxford a lot.”

Gabriel kissed her forehead. “I’d love to take you. I can show you the statues at Magdalen College that inspired Lewis to write about the stone animals in The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe. We could go in June, if you like.”

Julia smiled and kissed him back. “If you lend me Grace’s book, I’ll take it to Italy. It might be nice to have something to read during our vacation.”

He smirked at her and tapped a single finger to the end of her nose.

“What makes you think I’ll let you have time enough to read?”

She blushed and fumbled a vague response, but Gabriel continued, a grave expression on his face.

“I’m sorry we had to stop last night. It isn’t right for me to tease you like that and just…” He searched her eyes for her reaction.

She wrapped her arms around him and embraced him tenderly. “It was an incredibly emotional evening. I was happy to be close to you and to fall asleep in your arms. I just wanted to comfort you any way I could.

You don’t need to apologize.”

He cupped her face in both hands. “Julianne, your mere presence comforts me. But I was exhausted, and I’d been drinking…a recipe for disaster.” He shook his head and looked ashamed. “I didn’t want our first time together to have so much baggage, with all the ghosts of my past swirling in the air. I want us to go to a place that is ours alone and make some new memories. Some happy ones.”

“Of course. Although I must say that I was pretty happy with our interactions  last night.” She laughed lightly and kissed him.

He returned her kiss eagerly. “So you aren’t upset?”

“Gabriel, you are a gentleman worth waiting for. What kind of person would I be if I threw a tantrum because you said stop? If I were to say stop, I would hope that you would accept it and not get angry.”

He frowned. “Of course, Julianne. You can always say stop.”

“Well, what’s good for the goose is good for the gander.”

“So I’m a gander  now, am I?” He kissed her once again.

“It’s better than being a geezer.”

“Oh, no.” He squeezed her tightly. “No age jokes. I’m sensitive enough about our age difference.”

She tossed her hair. “Our souls have to be about the same age. So who’s counting?”

He tugged at her ponytail. “You’re incredible. You’re intelligent and funny, and damn, you’re gorgeous. Last night, kissing your br**sts…” He placed a hand reverently over her heart. “You rival Botticelli’s muse.”

“Botticelli?”

“Haven’t you noticed how several of his paintings all feature the same woman? She is the topic of my lecture for the Uffizi Gallery — Botticelli’s muse.”

Julia smiled at him sweetly, placing a corresponding hand on his heart. “I can’t wait.”

“Neither can I.”

After a lonely shower, Julia had a deuce of a time convincing Gabriel to let her out of his sight so that she could go shopping. He insisted on accompanying her. But when she finally explained that she wanted to shop for lingerie, alone, he relented.

“Promise me you’ll stay with me until we leave for Italy.” He looked at her through his eyebrows.

“I have to pack. My suitcase and all my things are at my apartment.”

“When you’ve finished shopping, take a cab home and pack before you have the driver bring you back here. I have to run a few errands, but you have your own key and security card to let yourself in.”

“And what kind of errands does Professor Emerson have to do today?”

He smiled at her seductively, and Julia felt her boy shorts slip along her hips as if they were intending to take a header to the floor.

“Perhaps I have my own shopping to do for — ah — personal items.”  He leaned forward to press his lips against her ear, his voice a smooth whisper.

“I told you I was a good lover, Julianne. Trust me. I will anticipate your every need.”

She shivered at the way his breath breezed across her neck, almost fluttering the omnipresent scarf she wore to hide her scar. She had no idea what he was implying, but she found herself tantalized by the way his words tripped off his tongue.

He owned her, body and soul.

While Julia was pulling lingerie from the store racks to add to her ever expanding pile of items to try on, her iPhone chirped. She quickly checked it and found a text:

What are you looking at? — G

She giggled slightly and typed a short response: Very tiny things. — Julia

Gabriel replied immediately:

How tiny? — G

P.S. Send pictures

Julia rolled her eyes as she hit reply: Too tiny. No pictures — they’d ruin the surprise. Love, Julia It took a little longer for Gabriel’s next text to arrive: Darling, No picture could ruin the experience of seeing you in all your glory for the first time…You’re that beautiful. Love, G

Julia’s fingers couldn’t type fast enough:

Thank you, Gabriel. I love you

Gabriel’s final text message reached her just as she entered the dressing room:

I love you too, sweetheart. Have fun…Hurry home to me. — G

The next two days were a whirlwind as Gabriel finished his administrative duties for the university, ensuring that all his grades were submitted.

The semester was finally over.

Julia made a special trip to a spa for some pre-Italy pampering. In keeping with her low pain tolerance and overall Mediterranean sensibility, she politely declined the aesthetician’s invitation to embrace all things Brazilian.

Gabriel had kept most of their travel plans a secret, wishing to surprise her. So it was with amazement that their arrival in Florence on a warmer than usual December day resulted in the happy couple walking into the Gallery Hotel Art. The hotel was upscale, modern, and located very close to the Ponte Vecchio, Julia’s favorite bridge, and a few minutes from the Ponte Santa Trinita, which was featured in Holiday’s painting of Dante and Beatrice.

The concierge, Paolo, greeted them immediately. Although Gabriel had not stayed in his hotel before, Paolo had been instructed by Dottore Massimo Vitali, the Executive Director of the Uffizi Gallery, to extend every courtesy to Professor Emerson and his fidanzata. In fact, Paolo himself accompanied the bellhop and the lovers to their seventh-floor suite, which was called the Palazzo Vecchio Penthouse.

Julia gasped as the men parted like the Red Sea before her so that she could enter first. It was, perhaps, the loveliest room she’d ever seen. The floor was a dark hardwood offset with light-colored walls. The sitting room was graced with elegantly modern furniture and a sliding glass wall that partitioned it from the bedroom.

The bedroom itself was spacious and featured a large bed that was piled high with crisp, white linens. Mere steps away was a glass door that opened out onto the rooftop terrazza, which allowed bright sunlight to spill over the bed, illuminating it. One of the bathrooms boasted a huge pedestal bathtub, not unlike the tub Julia had enjoyed in their hotel in Philadelphia, while the other bathroom had a shower and two matching vanities. Gabriel took one look at the bathtub and decided that he needed to share it with Julianne that very evening.

But the crowning glory of the space was the terrazza itself, which offered breathtaking views of the Duomo, the Palazzo, and the surrounding hills. Julia envisioned curling up with Gabriel on the comfortable futon bed, which dominated the terrace, with a glass of Chianti, looking up at the stars. Or perhaps (she blushed), making love with him by candlelight underneath those same stars.

Orgasms with Gabriel by starlight…

Once they were alone, Julia hugged him tightly and thanked him over and over again for choosing such a beautiful room.

“It’s all for you, my love.” He kissed her softly. “All for you.”

Truthful y, he would have liked nothing better than to spread Julianne out on the bed and make love to her immediately, but she hadn’t slept well on the airplane, and he knew that she was tired. She yawned twice in a row and giggled when he tried to kiss her.

“I should clean up and pay a visit to the Uffizi. Would it be all right if I left you on your own? You can take a nap, if you like, or I could ask the concierge to book a massage for you in the spa.”

Julia’s eyes lit up at the latter offering, but she knew she was too sleepy to enjoy it. “A nap sounds good. I know it isn’t the best strategy for overcoming jet lag, but I will be much better company over dinner and, um, later on,  if I have a little more sleep.” She blushed.

Gabriel traced a single finger around her jaw line. “I’ll only say this once, Julianne. There is no rush. We can take our time tonight and just relax. Although I think it would be nice if we were to try out the bathtub.

Together.”  His lips curled up into a sexy half-smile.

“I’d like that,” she said.

He kissed her nose, chuckling. “I requested special amenities from the Farmacia di Santa Maria Novella. See if any of the scents are to your liking, and we’ll use them. In the meantime, I’ll book our dinner reservations for nine or nine thirty.”