Later that night, Gabriel lay awake, staring at the ceiling, an inexplicable feeling of dread hanging over him.
Careful not to wake Julia, he crept out of bed and walked down the hall to the study. He switched on the light, closed the door, and went to his desk.
Within a few minutes, his laptop was on and he was Googling “fibroids.” He clicked on a page that looked promising and began viewing a few photographs of fibroids being removed during surgery.
Then he promptly passed out.
Chapter Forty-eight
Gabriel was fortunate enough to have his vasectomy reversal scheduled for the first week in October. Now it was Julia’s turn to miss a class and accompany him to the hospital.
The morning of his surgery, she awoke to the sound of Peggy Lee singing “Fever.” It wasn’t Gabriel’s normal choice of morning music, but it sounded promising. She pulled on her robe and walked to the bathroom.
Gabriel was standing in front of the vanity, shaving. His dark hair was damp from the shower, its edges curling. He was naked to the waist, a dark blue towel slung low on his hips. Julia wanted to trace the top of the V that extended below the towel.
As was his custom, he used a shaving brush to mix soap into a lather, spreading it over his face. His sapphire eyes were focused behind his glasses as he lifted the safety razor and began.
“Lurking about in doorways, Mrs. Emerson?” He spoke without turning his head.
“I came to see what was giving you a fever.”
He paused and gave her a searing look. “I think you know the answer to that.”
“I know what raises my temperature. There’s nothing sexier than watching the man you love shave.”
He rinsed his razor. “I’m glad you think that, because it’s a daily essential.” His eyes gleamed. “Unless you’ve grown attached to my stubble. As I recall, you seemed to enjoy it last night.”
His eyes darted in the direction of her thighs.
She felt her cheeks flame. The memory of lying flat on her back, Gabriel’s stubble rubbing against her . . .
He waved a hand in front of her face. “Penny for your thoughts.”
“Sorry, what?”
He chuckled. “I asked how you were feeling this morning.”
“I’m fine. How about you? Are you nervous?”
“Not really. But I’m glad you’re coming with me. I’m supposed to be at the hospital at ten. That gives us plenty of time for some extracurricular activities after I’ve finished shaving. You’ll have to give me something to tide me over for the next three weeks.”
He continued his ritual, the razor moving expertly.
“I can do that.” She approached him and pressed an openmouthed kiss between his shoulder blades.
“I think we should wait until after I’ve finished. You’re distracting me.”
“Really?”
She kissed him again, this time wrapping her hands over the tops of his shoulders, feeling the muscles tense beneath her fingers.
“I can’t help myself, Professor. I love touching you.”
She traced the lines of his biceps, moving to his forearms, admiring muscle and sinew. She pressed her lips to the hills and valley of his spine before tracing the dimples that winked at her above the edge of the towel.
He placed a heavy hand on top of the vanity.
“I can’t shave while you’re touching me.”
“Then maybe I should do it for you.”
“Oh, really?” A heated look passed between them.
“You enjoy feeding me. Perhaps I’d enjoy shaving you.”
“You’re very provocative this morning.”
“Maybe I need a sexy memory to get me through our marital celibacy.”
Gabriel put his razor aside and gestured in front of him, a look of amusement on his face.
She moved into the gap, facing him. In one swift moment, he lifted her to sit on the counter.
He spread her knees, pushing her robe out of the way. Then he stood between her legs.
His eyes drifted down. “No panties this morning?”
“I haven’t gotten that far yet.”
“Lucky for me.” He smiled while his fingers fumbled with the knot at her waist. “Lucky for us your cycle hasn’t started yet.”
She placed her hands over his, stopping him.
“Will you teach me to shave you?”
“Shaving is overrated.”
“I’d like to do this for you.”
He made a show of sighing, as if his patience were being tested. Then he picked up the razor. “Shave with the direction the hair grows, but don’t apply pressure. The blade is very sharp.”
He stepped away, looking in the mirror as he demonstrated his technique. Satisfied with his display, he rinsed the razor before placing it in her hand.
She looked at him. Then she looked at the razor, at the blade that gleamed in the halogen light.
“Stage fright, Mrs. Emerson?”
“I’m afraid I’ll make you bleed.”
His eyes bore into hers. “Then you know how I felt your first time.”
Julia’s heart rate increased at the memory. He’d been very worried that night, but very, very gentle.