“Why?”
“Um, Sharon hit me. I fell against the corner of the kitchen counter, hitting my head. I called my dad from the hospital and said that if he didn’t come and get me I was going to run away. And that was it. I never saw my mother again.”
“Do you have a scar?”
She took his hand and brought it up to the back of her head, pressing his fingers against a raised line of flesh where hair no longer grew.
“I’m sorry for this.” He traced it a few times and pressed his lips against it. “I’m sorry that those things happened to you. If I could, I’d beat them all senseless…starting with the bastard who is your father.”
“I was pretty lucky, actually. Sharon only hit me once.”
“Nothing you have told me sounds even remotely lucky.”
“I’m lucky now. No one hits me here. And I have a friend who feeds me.”
Gabriel shook his head and cursed. “You should have been cuddled and adored and treated like a princess. That’s what Rachel had.”
“I don’t believe in fairy tales,” she breathed.
“I’d like to make you believe.” He leaned over and kissed her forehead.
“Reality is better than fantasy, Gabriel.”
“Not if reality is the fantasy.”
She shook her head, but smiled. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
Her smile faded. “Do you have any scars?”
Gabriel’s face was impassive. “You can’t hit something that you don’t know is there.”
Julia leaned up and pressed her cheek into the crook of his neck. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s difficult to know what’s worse—being hit or being ignored. I guess it depends on what kind of pain you prefer.”
“I’m so sorry, Gabriel. I didn’t know.”
She took his hand in hers and wrapped their fingers together. Taking a deep breath, she asked, “Are you going to go home now?”
“Not unless you want me to leave.” He stroked her hair again, carefully avoiding the place where the flesh was raised.
She rested her head on his shoulder and sighed. “I want you to stay with me.”
“Then I’ll stay.”
Julia fell asleep while Gabriel remained awake contemplating the scars she had shown him, wondering with queasiness and anger about the scars she had not revealed.
“Julia?” he whispered. Her regular breathing and lack of response indicated that she was sleeping.
“I won’t let anyone hurt you.” He kissed her cheek softly. “Least of all myself.”
Chapter 19
Julia awoke the next morning to the sounds of the shower. She was trying to work out how someone other than she could be in her washroom when the sounds stopped and a tall, brown-haired man wrapped in a small, purple towel came through the door. Her eyes widened in surprise, and she gasped, clapping a hand over her open mouth.
“Good morning,” said Gabriel, clutching the towel that was slung low on his hips with one hand while grabbing his clothes with the other.
Julia stared. And she wasn’t staring at his face.
Regardless of what she was staring at, his hair was wet and sticking out in unruly spikes from his head. Beads of water clung to his shoulders and chest and glistened off the surface of his tattoo. The contours of sinew, muscle and veins, symmetry and balance, idealized proportion, and classical lines would be breathtaking even to the casual observer. But Julia was anything but a casual observer, for she had spent the entire night with this very body in her bed, spooning her close and playing with her hair. And this body was attached to a damn fine mind and a very deep, passionate soul.
Nevertheless, Julia was staring at his physical form, and thus the term aquatic demi-god flitted through her consciousness.
Gabriel grinned. “I said good morning, Julianne.”
She closed her mouth. “Um, good morning.”
He walked over and leaned down, pressing a firm but gentle opened-mouth kiss against her lips. A few droplets of water splashed around her on the sheets. “Did you sleep well?”
She nodded slowly, feeling a good deal too warm.
“You’re not saying much.” He straightened up and smirked at her.
“You’re half-naked.”
“Right. Would you prefer me wholly naked?” He shifted the towel provocatively on his hips and grinned.
Julia nearly expired in shock.
“I’m just kidding, sweetheart.” He kissed her again, with a furrowed brow.
A discomforting thought occurred to him. He retreated backward with a very serious expression on his face. “I forgot about what happened to you in St. Louis. When you were little,” he clarified. “I’m sorry to barge in on you like this. I wasn’t thinking.”
Julia looked over at him with mute appreciation. She smiled shyly. “It’s all right. You’re just distracting. You seem happy this morning.”
He grinned. “Sharing a bed with you agrees with me. Can I make you breakfast?”