“Have you seen the back?” She pivoted her hips, watching him over her shoulder.
He reached out a finger to touch the laces that tied the corset, dragging his hand down to the panties that cut across her pert backside.
“Enough teasing, Miss Mitchell. Come here.” He pulled her to him, bringing their mouths together in a forceful kiss.
“I’m going to take my time unwrapping my gift—with the exception of the shoes. I hope for your sake they’re comfortable.”
After ten minutes of knocking on the door, the room service waiter had to take their dinner back to the kitchen and await further instructions.
The instructions never came.
*
Long after midnight, beautiful music hung in the air from Gabriel’s new playlist, including songs by Sarah McLachlan, Sting, and Matthew Barber. Julia was lying on her stomach amidst a tangle of linen sheets, drowsy and satisfied. Her back was exposed down to the two dimples that rested above the curve of her backside.
Gabriel had artfully placed part of the sheet over her bottom and retrieved his camera. He stood by the bed, snapping picture after picture until she yawned and stretched, like a sleepy cat.
“You’re exquisite,” he said, placing the camera to one side so he could sit by her.
She looked up with wide, happy eyes as he began running his long fingers down her spine, then gave a rueful smile. “When you love something, you don’t see its flaws.”
“That’s true, I suppose. But you’re beautiful.”
She shifted so she could see him better, hugging her arms around a pillow. “Love makes things beautiful.”
A familiar tightness spread across Gabriel’s lips. His hand stilled on her lower back, just over the dimples.
She read the unspoken question in his eyes. “Yes, Gabriel, you’re beautiful to me. The more I know you, the more I see who you really are and the more beautiful you become.”
He kissed her, the light, appreciative kiss of a teenage suitor, and ran his fingers through her long, brown hair. “Thank you. You’re hungry, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
He looked over at the door. “I think we missed our dinner because we were feasting on—ah—other things.”
“And what a feast it was, Professor. At least there’s a fruit basket.”
She sat up, wrapping the sheet around her torso, while he walked over to the large basket that was sitting on the coffee table. He found a Swiss army knife in the kitchenette, made an adjustment to the music, and brought a mango with him to bed.
“I needed to match the song to the fruit,” he said, his blue eyes sparkling. “Now lie back.”
She felt her heart rate begin to increase.
“You don’t need this.” Boldly, he pulled the sheet away. Now they were both naked.
“Who’s singing?”
“Bruce Cockburn.”
He began cutting the mango slowly, his eyes exploring Julia’s body.
She gave him a quizzical look. “Naked lunch?”
“More like a naked midnight snack.”
With deft fingers he cut a small slice of the fruit, juice dripping from his hands and onto her abdomen. She arched an eyebrow.
“Hmmm.” He peered at the juice with an impish expression. “I’ll have to take care of that.”
She opened her mouth as he leaned forward to feed her. “You have a feeding fetish,” she said, licking her lips and angling for more.
He bowed before her in obeisance, his tongue snaking out to capture the liquid from her stomach. “Pardon?” he asked.
Julia groaned incoherently.
“It isn’t a fetish so much as an act that gives me joy. I like to care for you, and there’s something sensual about sharing food with a lover.” He eschewed her lips to kiss her shoulder, the tip of his tongue tasting her skin. Withdrawing, he cut another slice of fruit. A few droplets fell like liquid sunshine on her left breast.
“Damn. Forgive my mess.”
He ran a sticky hand up and down her ribs, tantalizing one of his favorite erogenous zones, before placing his lips to her chest.
“You’re killing me,” she managed as his wet mouth found her nipple.
“I seem to recall saying that to you once. And you promised it would be a sweet death.”
Julia opened her mouth to indicate her willingness to accept another piece. “I should have said a sticky death.”
He placed a piece of mango on her tongue before stroking her lower lip with his thumb.
“I’ve thought of that. Don’t worry.”
Without warning, she moved so she was straddling his lap and placed her hands on either side of his face, pulling him toward her. They kissed passionately for a moment before she took the mango and knife from his hand and placed a piece temptingly in her mouth.
He gave her a heated look before he brought their lips together, tugging the piece of fruit away with his teeth.
“Mmmmm,” she hummed. “By the way, I don’t think I ever saw the security video from our date at the museum.”
She gently squeezed a piece of mango over his chest and began kissing and sucking across the droplet trail.