Gabriel's Rapture Reynard, Sylvain (literature books to read TXT) 📖

of shared silence, Julia decided to voice one of her other, greater fears.

“Rachel?”

“Uh huh?”

“What if he sleeps with her?”

Rachel was quiet for a moment. So quiet, Julia began to repeat the question, but her friend interrupted. “If Gabriel were cruel, then maybe he’d screw someone else. But I can’t imagine him doing that and thinking that you’d forgive him.”

“If he’s with someone else and you find out about it, tell me.” Julia gave her friend a pleading look. “It would be better to hear it from you.”

* * *

“Darling, open your eyes.”

His voice was warm and thick as he moved inside her, distributing his weight to his forearms. He leaned down to draw the delicate skin from the inside of her bicep into his mouth, kissing and sucking on it. It was just enough to tease her and perhaps to leave a gentle mark. He knew this drove her mad.

“I can’t,” she gasped, in between moans. Every time he moved it sent the most wonderful sensations coursing through her body.

Until he stopped.

Suddenly, her eyelids fluttered open.

He rubbed his nose against hers and smiled. “I need to see you.” His gaze was gentle but intense, as if he were holding back the flame of desire momentarily.

“It’s hard for me to keep my eyes open.” She groaned a little as he moved inside her once again.

“Try for me.” He kissed her softly. “I love you so much.”

“Then why did you leave me?”

Gabriel looked down on her with dismay, his blue eyes narrowing. “I didn’t…”

* * *

That same evening Gabriel was lying in the center of the bed, eyes closed, while she trailed leisurely open-mouthed kisses across his pectorals, pausing reverently to kiss his tattoo, before extending her attentions to his abdominals. An oath left his mouth as she ran her fingers lightly up and down the well-defined muscles before swirling a tongue around his navel.

It has been so long…

That was the thought that came to mind as she gently traced the skin and strands of hair before reaching a hand down to grasp him firmly. He shifted his hips. She was stroking him now, and he was panting, begging. She teased him unhurriedly as her long, silky hair caressed the tops of his thighs, before taking him into the warm wetness of her mouth.

Gabriel muttered a surprised expletive as he gave himself over to the sensations, before weaving his fingers into her hair.

He froze.

A sick feeling bubbled up in his stomach as he remembered what happened the last time he’d done this. He withdrew his hand immediately, worried that he’d frightened her.

“I’m sorry.” He extended a single finger to trace her cheek. “I forgot.”

A cold hand caught him by the wrist before forcing him to grasp her head roughly.

“What did you forget?” she taunted. “How to enjoy a blow job?”

Gabriel’s eyes flew open. In absolute horror he looked down into a pair of laughing blue eyes.

Paulina was naked and crouched over him, smiling triumphantly as she held him close to her mouth. Gabriel recoiled, cursing and crowding backward against the headboard while she sat on her heels, watching him.

She laughed and pointed to his nose, indicating that he should wipe the traces of cocaine from his nostrils.

What have I done?

He scrubbed his face roughly with both hands. As the enormity of his depravity sunk in, he retched, dry heaving over the side of the bed. When he came to himself, he held out his left hand to show her his ring—but there was none.

The wedding ring was gone.

Paulina laughed again and began crawling toward him, eyes feral, her naked body brushing against his own.

Chapter 35

Gabriel struggled and flailed before jolting awake. He tore at the bedclothes, earnestly looking for any sign of her. But there was none.

He was alone in a dark hotel room. He’d extinguished the lights before retiring, which was his first mistake. Neglecting to place the framed photograph on his nightstand was his second, for it served as a talisman against the darkness.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and placed his face in his hands. Enduring rehab all those years ago had been excruciating but nothing compared with losing Julianne. He would have suffered the nightmares and haunting memories of old sins gladly if he could hold her in his arms every night.

As he gazed with contempt at the half-empty bottle of Scotch, he felt the darkness closing in. His desperate pursuit had placed a great deal of pressure on him. When that pressure was coupled with a striking sense of loss, it made it almost impossible for him to function at a high level without some kind of crutch.

Every day the drinks grew larger. Every day he realized that he needed to do something before he became trapped by his old coping mechanisms and ruined his future. He knew that if he didn’t do something, quickly, he’d relapse.

Impulsively, he made two telephone calls before gathering his belongings and shoving them into his suitcase. Then he directed the concierge to secure him a cab that would take him to the airport. He didn’t bother to ensure that his appearance was neat and professional. In fact, he didn’t bother looking into the mirror at all, for he knew that what he saw would disgust him.

Many hours later, he arrived in Florence and checked into the Gallery Hotel Art. It had been short notice, but he’d persuaded the manager to give him the same suite in which he and Julia had consummated their relationship. It was either that or a rehabilitation program, and he was convinced his connection to her would prove far more redemptive.

As he walked into the room, he half-expected to see her, or at least, signs of her. A pair of tangerine stilettos carelessly kicked off under a coffee table. A taffeta dress pooled on the floor next to a blank wall. A pair of seamed black stockings strewn across an unmade bed.

But of course, he saw none of those