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Shedetected her own crescendo building with the music, and the image of the country folk fled her mind, replaced only with thoughts ofGabrieland what he was doing to her.Herhands snaked into his hair.
Heconcentrated his attention on the place that mattered most.
Thesymphony crested and broke, the notes undulating and carrying her along. ‘Gabriel!’ she screamed as ripples of pleasure engulfed her.Shepractically felt the sunshine on her skin, warm and life-affirming, even though the room was shadowy and lit by the orange glow of one lamp.
Herbones melted as she lay there.Herbreathing slowly settled while the horns finished off the symphony.Shepulled atGabriel’sarms, wanting to devour him.Hereplaced her dress over her lap and nibbled up her body until he sat next to her again.Witha self-satisfied smirk on his face, he rested his arm on the back cushion and propped his head up on his hand. ‘So…how do you feel about classical music now?’
‘It’sbloody amazing.You’rebloody amazing.’Shepushed herself into a seated position and threw her leg over his lap, straddling him and pulling his lips to hers.Shenever did this withKrishafter he went south on her, but withGabrielit felt right, the sweetness of her most private place like a secret between them.
Pullingaway, she said breathily, ‘Gabriel...?’
‘Yes?’Hegrew still as she gazed into his dark, liquid eyes.
Shestroked her thumb along his cheekbone and gave him her most earnestDisneyprincess stare. ‘Youreally are an inspiration.’
Hebarked with laughter and they dissolved into fits together, which ended in another frantic kiss.Thismoment is perfect,Jessthought.Here—with this man, on this couch, in this chateau.Iftime stopped right now, she’d die happy.
Butof course time didn’t do that.Itmarched forward.Tomorrowthey’d leave here and, the following day, she’d return toLondon.
Herheart plunged at the thought.
15
Merde.Gabrielstared at the ceiling, too deep in thought to sleep.Thelight breeze from the open window did nothing to soothe his hot skin.Jessslept deeply beside him.
Hewanted to put a pin in time, give himself longer to figure things out.
Shehad turned his world upside down.Injust a few days,Jesshad burrowed into his life and knocked down all his walls, like a bomb.Whatwas it about this specific woman that made it hard to breathe when she wasn’t sharing his air?
You’returning into a poet, scoffed his inner asshole.
Shutup.
Hedidn’t understand what was happening to him.Hisexperience of relationships with the opposite sex would fill aPost-Itnote.Sure, he’d had some girlfriends in college, but nothing to write home about.Andthen when his career as a war photographer took off, he quickly realised his work wasn’t conducive to commitment.EventhoughFatimahad a wife back home, he personally thought it was cruel to put a partner through the worry of being chained to a war photographer.Thejob was just too unpredictable and there were long stretches where he couldn’t communicate with home.Healready feltguilty enough putting his parents andElodiethrough it.Hedidn’t want that list any longer than it needed to be.
Besides, he was chasing stories, not love.Healways supposed there’d be time for that, later, so he sealed his emotions away.
Instead, he had sex.Nostrings.Whereverhe had assignments.Journalists, other photographers, embassy staff.Fatimaused to call his assignations ‘F-Stops’ orFuck-Stops—a reference to the photography term for the size of the opening in a lens.
ButwithJess, the sex wasn’t about slaking a thirst of his body.Itwas about feeding the needs of his soul.
Seriously, this is some byronic-level shit,said that annoying voice again.
Fuckit.Okay.SoJessbrought out his poetic side.
It’sokay, you know.Youaren’t betraying anybody by falling in love.
Hehuffed cynically and then checked to make sure he hadn’t wokenJessup.Love?Notpossible.He’donly known the woman for less than a week.Howcould this be love?Surely, love didn’t happen with a bang, like in the movies.Reallove—the kind that lasted—formed over time, didn’t it?Andtime was the one thing they didn’t have.
Thenagain, the thought of her leaving tomorrow hollowed him out inside.Thevery idea of her going back toLondonand getting on with her life, meeting somebody else to make her laugh, wrapping her legs around a man that wasn’t him…it made his mouth taste bitter and his stomach tighten in a knot.
Gabrielrealised he had the top sheet clenched in his fist.Hereleased it.
Hewanted to be the one she took risks with.Hewanted to be the one to make her laugh.Hewanted to be the first person she called when she had good news to share.
Butwas he still capable of being that guy?Upuntil now, he believed that part of him had died in the hills ofAfghanistan.Heused to think he was brave, running headfirst into war zones, but right now he felt like the world’s biggest coward.Shouldhe followJess’slead and take some risks?
Ifa person can die in a split second, then you can decide to live in the same timeframe.
