He brought his face to hers, his lips inches from her mouth. She could feel his warm breath on her skin. She shivered.
“Feel what?”
“Your body and mine together. You came to me last night, Julianne. You came to my bed. Why did you do that? Why did you tell me you couldn’t stay away? Because we’re soul mates, just like Aristophanes described—one soul in two bodies. You’re my missing half. You’re my bashert.”
“Bashert? Do you even know what that means? Bashert is bashert, Gabriel; destiny is destiny. It can mean anything you want, and it doesn’t have to mean me.”
He smiled at her widely. “Your linguistic knowledge constantly surprises me.”
“I know that word.”
“Of course, my lovely. Because you’re smart.” He brought his fingertips lightly to her neck, stroking up and down.
“Gabriel—stop it.” She pushed him away so she could think clearly. “You’re clean, but you’re still an addict. I am the child of an alcoholic. I won’t let this happen.”
“I don’t deserve you. I know that. Conosco i segni dell’antica fiamma. I felt it the first time I took your hand. The first time I kissed you. And it was all there last night—every feeling, every memory, every sensation I had before was there. It was real. Look at me and tell me it meant nothing to you, and I will let you go.”
She closed her eyes to block out his pleadings, his assertion that he knew the signs of the ancient flame.
“You can’t do it, can you? Your skin remembers me, and so does your heart. You told them to forget, but they can’t. Remember me, Beatrice. Remember your first.”
His lips met her neck, and she felt her pulse begin to race under his touch. Her body was a traitor; it would not lie. It would not listen to reason. He could have asked her anything in this position, and she would have agreed to it. The thought made her desperate.
“Please, Gabriel.”
“Please, what?” he whispered, trailing angel soft kisses up and down her neck, finally pausing so he could feel her lifeblood flow under his mouth.
“Please let me go.”
“I can’t.” He tugged her knapsack and her coat out of her hands and dropped them to the floor.
“I don’t trust you.”
“I know.”
“You’ll shatter me, Gabriel, and that will be the end of me.”
“Never.”
He brought his hands to cup her face, and just as she closed her eyes, he paused. Julia waited, expecting the smooth wetness of his lips to connect with hers, but they didn’t. She waited. Then she opened her eyes.
Gabriel’s eyes were large, soft and warm, and staring down at her. He smiled. He began by stroking her face, gentle caresses here and there, exploring every curve, every line, as if he was memorizing it. He moved to her neck, using a single fingertip from his right hand to travel back and forth. Julia shivered.
He brought his lips to her ear. “Relax, my darling.” He nibbled her earlobe and nuzzled her neck enticingly. “Let me show you what I can do when I take it slow.”
Holding her face in his hands, he brushed his lips to her forehead, her nose, her cheeks, her chin. Only when she closed her eyes a second time did he cover her mouth with his lips. By then, Julia was already breathless.
As soon as their lips met, there was a rush of blood and heat and energy. But Gabriel was careful and would not speed. His lips matched hers, moving back and forth, their skin humming with the soft friction. But he did not open his mouth. His hands moved to her hair, tangling gently, massaging her scalp and floating downward.
Julia was less gentle as she grabbed at the back of his head, tugging and twining his hair around her fingers. Their mouths continued to press together, smoothing over every inch. His tongue peeked out, and he drew it languorously across her upper lip, tasting her tentatively before sucking her lower lip between his.
It was tempting. It was teasing. It was the slowest kiss he’d ever given. And it made his heart beat quickly. When she moaned against his mouth, he tilted her head back so that she would open for him. But he would not rush. He waited for her jaw to soften, and when she could wait no more and her own tongue hesitantly came out to meet his, only then did he allow himself to accept her invitation.
She would have responded at a fevered pace, but Gabriel controlled the kiss, and he wished to kiss her softly. Gently. Leisurely. It took half an age for his hands to travel from her face down the sides of her neck so that they were kneading her shoulders. And another half an age for those same hands to slide down her spine and under her clothes to find bare skin. All this time he was slowly exploring her mouth as if he’d never have a second chance.