Soraya gave her a condescending look. “Love can be easily killed, especially by unemployment. But let’s take things one step at a time.
“Gabriel has sent over a retainer, which I will return. I think it’s best for me to represent you pro bono.”
Julia nodded uncomfortably. She had forgotten about the legal fees. “I will pay you, but it might take some time…”
“The point of taking a case for the good is so one can further the good. I don’t see much good coming out of taking your money. You should be spending it on text books and moving expenses to Massachusetts.”
Soraya’s smile tightened. “I am not a fan of the university’s sexual inquisitions. Anything I can do to embarrass or humiliate Dean Aras is definitely for the good. Believe me, representing your interests will be one of the few pleasures I’ve had recently. I should be paying you for the privilege.”
* * *
Later that evening Julia was curled up into a ball, trying to sleep in Gabriel’s bed. He was in his study, furiously researching all the university policies that applied to graduate students, trying to figure out what had possibly come to the attention of the Dean.
The thought of Gabriel having to do that for her—the thought of his career possibly being threatened because of her, combined with the possibility of losing Harvard, made the tears come. It was all so overwhelming. And the worst part was not knowing what the specific danger was.
She wiped the tears away, willing herself to be strong. Gabriel walked into the bedroom to check on her, and upon seeing her face, slipped into bed behind her.
“Don’t cry, sweetheart. Please don’t cry.” He paused. “I wouldn’t have continued working if I’d known you were so upset. We’ve hired the best lawyer and we’re going to fight this complaint. It’s quite possible it’s simply a misunderstanding and by Friday evening, it will all be over.”
“What if this is about us?”
Gabriel clenched his teeth. “Then we’ll deal with it together.”
“What about the harassment complaint?”
“Don’t worry about that. You focus on your thesis and your studies, and you let me worry about myself. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you. I promise.”
He rolled her onto her back and began sweeping soft kisses across her face.
“I’m afraid,” she whispered.
Gabriel stroked her hair and pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose. “I know. But no matter what, I won’t let them keep you from Harvard. It’s going to be fine.” He gave her a pained look. “What can I do, Julia? I don’t know how to—comfort you.”
“Kiss me.”
Gabriel kissed her mouth—the hesitant, light kiss of a boy who was unsure how the girl next door would react. He needn’t have worried.
Julia responded by wrapping his hair around her fingers and pulling his lips to hers, kissing him fiercely and coaxing his tongue into her mouth.
He kissed her back but with restraint, then pulled away before pressing their foreheads together. “I can’t,” he said.
“Please.” She tugged at him, running her hands across his broad shoulders and down the sinews of his back, pulling him toward her.
“I can’t make love to you while you’re sad. I would feel like I was hurting you.”
“But I need you.”
“Wouldn’t you rather I ran a hot bath or something?”
“Making love with you makes me happy because it reminds me how much you love me. Please. I need to feel like you want me.”
His eyebrows knitted together. “Of course I want you, Julia. I just don’t want to take advantage.”
She was not the sort of woman who made many demands, and what demands she made were almost always good. And almost always about what was good for him.
Gabriel knew this, and it pained him to deny her and those large, sad brown eyes. But the trails of her tears had dampened his libido. He would far rather have held her tightly and tried to soothe her by being close, than to attempt an act he would not be able to perform.
Her face told him that she needed him, that she needed this and them and the conjunction of body and soul. While he stroked her hair, deciding what to do, he realized something about himself. No matter what his therapist had intimated, he was not a sex addict. He was not a wanton hedonist with a massive hunger who was willing to, as Scott had put it, screw anything female and attractive.
Julianne had changed him. He loved her. And even if she begged him, he couldn’t become aroused while seeing her in pain.
She was still staring up at him, her fingers tracing up and down his naked back. He decided to give her part of what she wanted, to touch and caress her, focusing on distracting her with pleasurable feelings and sensations, hoping that it would be enough. He kissed her, slowing their pace to a gentle exploration. She ran her fingers through his hair, anchoring him to her as she softly scratched his scalp. Even in the midst of her sorrow and need, she was kind.