Fallen (Seven Deadly Sins #2)(46)
Author: Erin McCarthy

“Touching my hair?” she asked stupidly. He was so close she found herself staring at the stubble on his chin. There was no rhyme or reason to his hair growth. It was sporadic and random, the hairs soft, darker than the hair on his head. Yet even though he hadn’t shaved, if you were a foot away from him, you’d never be able to tell there was stubble. He had no imperfections on his face anywhere, no scars or blemishes or discolorations. Up close, he was even lovelier to look at than when she was standing across the room. Up close she could see the strength of his jaw, the sharpness of his cheekbones, and the deep, rich desire in his compelling eyes.

Up close, she had no hope, no intention, of resisting him. His fingers in her hair made her shiver with anticipation.

“Yes. And this.”

Then he leaned forward and kissed her. She closed her eyes immediately, wanting to enjoy it, savor. He came at her with a short, testing-the-waters press first, then without hesitation he went for broke, taking her mouth with his, hand buried in her hair, holding her head.

It was sexy and skilled and Sara felt it everywhere. Gabriel was giving her the kind of kiss that reverberated throughout her entire body, awakening her br**sts and inner thighs, stirring up both an appreciation and a restless want for more. He tasted, felt, so damn good, and she gave it back, opening up for him, burning with want for him.

Gabriel was aware with half his brain that he shouldn’t be doing what he was doing, but he ignored the voice of reason and continued feeling, touching, tasting Sara’s mouth. She was delicious, warm and soft, and small, yet strong, confident, kissing him back with passion and fervor, and when he slid his tongue inside her, she opened for him without hesitation. Their tongues intertwined and her fingers dug into his forearm, and it was a damn good thing he was holding a bag of Chinese food or he would have pushed her against the wall, ground his aching erection against her, yanked down her T-shirt and sucked her br**sts.

It would be very, very easy to lose control with her, to go from kissing to touching to their bodies naked and sweaty as he thrust inside her. He wanted that. Wanted to take it. Knew he could.

But a kiss would have to be enough, so Gabriel ravaged her mouth, pressed and licked and sucked, plunging his tongue deeper inside her until Sara stumbled backward, losing her balance under his urgent pursuit and breaking their connection. She blinked up at him, lips shiny and wet, as they both panted. Her fists opened and closed at her sides, and her ni**les were clearly visible, taut against her shirt. There was a piece of hair stuck to her bottom lip and she didn’t bother to pull it away. He could read the capitulation on her face, could see that one word and they could be upstairs in his bed, yanking off denim and cotton and enjoying each other’s flesh, and he wanted it. Bad.

The only thing he wanted more was freedom. Because he couldn’t make love to Sara. Rochelle was a reminder of that. He didn’t want to see Sara grow desperate with the illogical and demon-driven urge to be possessed by him, over and over. He couldn’t live with himself if he took Sara, then had to watch her lose herself in a debilitating addiction to him, who wasn’t worthy of any sort of devotion.

He had only touched Rochelle once, brushing an ant off her arm when she had handed him his change, and look what that had done, what that had created in Rochelle.

There was no choice to be made. Gabriel had to stay strong, so he wiped his mouth, regretting his actions. It was going to be harder to resist what he had already tasted. But he would. Especially knowing that he was keeping truths from her. Knowing that she was going to hate him if she ever learned any of those truths, especially if Rafe really was her mother’s killer.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, readjusting the bag of food into both hands.

“What?” she said, blinking like a baby owl. Then she took a deep breath, tugging at the hem of her T-shirt. “Right. Dinner. Great. Thanks.”

Chapter Twelve

From the Court Records of the

Willful Murder Trial of Anne Donovan,

State of Louisiana v. Jonathon Thiroux

January 13, 1850

Attorney for the defense, Mr. Swift, questioning

Dr. Stephens.

MR. SWIFT: Dr. Stephens, can you explain to us what absinthism is?

DR. STEPHENS: Certainly. Absinthism is a syndrome that chronic ingestors of absinthe eventually incur. It is characterized by addiction, seizures, delirium, and hallucinations.

MR. SWIFT: What precisely do you mean by addiction?

DR. STEPHENS: Addiction is a physical dependence on the intoxicant itself. In this case, absinthe.

MR. SWIFT: And you say this absinthism results in seizures, delirium, and hallucinations?

DR. STEPHENS: That is correct.

MR. SWIFT: Could a person suffering from this unfortunate syndrome lose their faculties during one of these seizures, states of delirium, or hallucinations?

DR. STEPHENS: Absolutely. That’s the nature of the beast.

MR. SWIFT: So they could come to after one of these episodes and have no memory of what had occurred in the interim?

DR. STEPHENS: Certainly. They very easily could have memory gaps as a result of these brain traumas.

MR. SWIFT: Would you say that someone who has consumed absinthe every day for a period of at least eighteen months is at risk for absinthism, resulting in these seizures, states of delirium, and hallucinations?

DR. STEPHENS: Absinthe every day for eighteen months? Good God, I would say most assuredly a person ingesting that level of drink would be suffering from absinthism. Without a doubt, in my mind.

MR. SWIFT: Thank you, Dr. Stephens. I have no further questions.

From the Court Records of

the Willful Murder Trial of Anne Donovan,

State of Louisiana v. Jonathon Thiroux

January 14, 1850

PROSECUTOR: Dr. Raphael, in your medical opinion, would the wounds inflicted upon Anne Donovan be easy to create using a bowie knife?

DR. RAPHAEL: I am not certain what you’re asking.

PROSECUTOR: I apologize. Let me rephrase the question. We have heard testimony as to the severe damage a bowie knife can do to an individual. It is inarguably a most vicious weapon. Would you say that anyone, whether they are of great strength or not, could have inflicted these wounds upon Anne Donovan?

DR. RAPHAEL: I wouldn’t say that. The depth of the wounds, the violence of the attack, and the damage to both organs and bone indicate to me that the killer was a man of size and strength.

PROSECUTOR: Even though the bowie knife is used by sportsmen to easily gut fish and skin animals?

DR. RAPHAEL: I am not an expert in knives. I can merely tell you that bone was penetrated in a multitude of places, and as a medical expert, I do not believe that a person who was intoxicated to the point of unconsciousness could have inflicted wounds with this type of severity. I don’t believe a woman could have done this. I believe only a very strong man, in full command of his faculties, could have done this kind of damage.