Chapter 19
Rose
The snow falls in perfect, fat flakes as I wait by the entrance of the Westbrook Art Conservatory.
I play with the soles of my boots, leaving small prints in the fresh layer on the sidewalk.
I can feel my cheeks stinging from the December cold, but it feels good.
Christmas lights are twinkling in every window of the nearby shops, and it’s enough to warm my heart.
Gabriel appears around the corner. His long, brown coat makes him look like he stepped out of a Victorian novel, and my heart starts smiling. He's carrying two steaming paper cups. When he reaches me, I can see that his cheeks are flushed from the walk.
“I got you coffee,” he says, handing me a cup. Then he leans in and kisses me softly, longer than most would when saying hello. “Figured you could use something to warm you up.”
"Thank you." I wrap my gloved hands around the cup, and let the heat seep through. "I was starting to think you'd changed your mind."
"Never. Are you joking? I couldn’t sleep last night thinking about our date today! Come on. There's something I want to show you."
He leads me past the art conservatory’s main entrance, and down a narrow cobblestone path I never would have noticed on my own. It winds between two old brownstone buildings, and opens into a hidden garden.
Ancient marble statues stand sentinel between the snow-dusted hedges and bare rosebushes.
I can see wrought iron benches that line the walkways, but they are covered in snow.
Tiny white lights have been strung through the skeletal branches of the trees.
And, beyond the garden's far edge, the Hudson River glistens in its icy grandeur, reflecting the overcast sky.
"How did you find this place? It’s stunning!”
"I discovered it when I was in graduate school. When I needed to escape the pressure, and the expectations." He’s walking beside me, our shoulders occasionally brushing. "No one ever comes here in winter."
The garden feels like a secret world, distant from reality. Snow continues to fall. It muffles the sound and creates an intimate cocoon around us. I stop beside a statue of a woman reading a book. Her marble face looks serene and timeless.
"How can someone create something like this out of stone? Look at the details…”
Gabriel turns to me, but I notice that his face is tense now. It that wasn't like that before.
"Rose, I need you to know that I brought you here because…"
"No one knows us here," I interrupt, understanding his concern. "Just for today, we're not professor and student!"
The careful distance we maintain at school dissolves. And it’s replaced by something warmer and more real.
We continue walking and pass beneath an archway covered in dormant ivy.
Someone has carefully placed Christmas decorations throughout the garden.
There are small wreaths on the iron gates, ribbons tied around the lamp posts.
It makes everything feel magical despite the bare branches and the sleeping flowerbeds.
"Tell me, Rose. Are you going home to London for Christmas to see your family? Or has Timothy asked you to join that side of the family celebrations?”
I shake my head. "Neither. I have too many tasks to finish. Professor Williams assigned three papers that are due right after the winter break. And I'm behind on my economics reading."
The admission makes me feel guilty. But Gabriel is just laughing.
"I called my parents last night to explain. They understood, but I could hear the disappointment in my mom's voice."
Gabriel is quiet for a moment. He’s watching the snowflakes land on his gloves. "Family expectations can be complicated."
"What do you mean?"
He's silent for so long that I begin to think he won't answer. When he finally speaks, his voice is quieter than usual.
"My relationship with my father has been strained for years. He's a powerful man. He comes from old New York money, and has strong political connections. The kind of influence that open doors before you even approach them."
I wait, sensing that he needs space to continue.
"He expected me to follow his path. Go to law school, then politics, and then the same social circles he's navigated his entire life."
“But you are going into politics. You’re running for Senate.”
“Of course. But that’s not good enough for a man like my father. It never was. When I chose academia, he hated the idea of me being a professor. When I insisted on earning my own credentials before entering the political arena, he saw it as rebellion."
“How can he think that being a professor is a bad thing?”
"He wanted a puppet. And I refused to be one."
The honesty in his voice touches something deep in my chest. Here we are, away from the classroom and the careful boundaries we maintain at school. Gabriel is showing me parts of himself I suspected but never seen.
"It sounds lonely," I reflect.
"It has been. People see the Thorn name, the success, and the political potential. And, of course, the money. They think they know who I am before we've even spoken."
"I don't."
"No," he says, his voice growing warmer. "You don't. You treat me for who I really am, not because of my position."
A comfortable silence settles between us. Snow continues to fall, gathering in soft mounds on the bench arms and our shoulders. The garden feels like it exists outside of time, far away from the complications waiting for us back at school.
"Rose," Gabriel says eventually. "There's something I need to tell you."
Before he can continue, I stand and walk to the garden's edge. There is a low stone wall that overlooks the river. He follows me, and stands close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating from his body.
"I know what you're going to say, Gabriel. About how complicated this is. About the risks we're taking."
"Actually, I was going to say that I've never felt this way about anyone before."
I turn to face him, surprised by his vulnerability and his honesty.
"I've had relationships," he continues. "But they were always calculated and strategic. With women who fit into the life I was supposed to want. Or, just one-time flings. But it’s so different with you, Rose.”
“I think I know how you feel, Gabriel. Because I feel it too. I’ve never met a man like you before.”
"I know the timing is impossible. And that the circumstances are far from ideal. But I can't pretend this isn't happening. I can’t pretend like I don’t have feelings for you, Rose."
"I don't want to pretend either."
There is snow in his hair now, and the Christmas lights behind him create a halo effect. It makes the moment feel almost ethereal.
This time, when he kisses me, it's different from our previous stolen moments. There's no urgency, and no fear of being caught. Instead, there's something deeper. I can feel the trust, the tenderness, and, perhaps, even more.
This isn't the passionate desperation of our encounters at school. This is something gentler, more meaningful.
When we finally break apart, he rests his forehead against mine. Our breath mingles in small clouds between us, and I can see the snowflakes caught in his eyelashes.
"I wish we could stay here," I whisper.
"So do I."
He kisses me again, slower and deeper this time. There’s no rush, no fear. No one can see us here. There is just the hush of the falling snow and the glow of the Christmas lights. It’s quiet enough to hear our breathing, which makes it even more thrilling.
Gabriel’s fingers trail down the side of my neck. He’s still wearing his gloves, and the touch is electrifying. He takes his scarf off and, and for a second I think he’s going to wrap it around me.
Instead, he leans in.
“Close your eyes.”
“Yes, Professor.”
He ties the scarf over my eyes with a slow, practiced motion. I’m blindfolded now, and the world has faded into a soft darkness. The air is cold and his breath is warm. This is all I need right now.
“Keep your hands at your sides, Rose. Just focus on the sensation…”
“Yes, Professor,” I whisper.
I can hear the crunch of his boots in the snow when he moves around me. I can’t see anything, but I feel everything. He kisses my neck and then lower, heading toward my breasts.
He takes his time and undoes the buttons of my coat one by one. I feel the cold kiss of air on my skin, and then the warmth of his mouth replacing it. He drags his mouth over my dress, down to my nipples, and then over the curve of my stomach.
“I want to taste you out here,” he says.
“Taste me? Or taste my…”
“Yes, I want to taste your pussy, Rose. I want to make you cum, to make you scream. I want you to never forget these moments with me.”
“I can’t wait. God… It’s all I can think about, Gabriel. Please… hurry!”
I can hear the sound of clothing being shifted. He’s opening his coat and loosening his belt. But I don’t reach for him. I obey.
Then he pushes me gently backward, until my back is against something hard. I’m still standing, but my back is now resting against one of the cold, stone statues. Taking me entirely by surprise, he pulls my coat down and then slips off my dress.
“Oh… Ahh!! It’s cold!”
“I know. That’s how it’s supposed to be. Just focus on the feeling, Rose.
I can’t see, but I know exactly what he’s doing. Gabriel takes off my bra and presses a little snow to my nipples.
“Mmm…” I moan. They immediately become hard as rock and he lunges, taking each one into his mouth and sucking it.
His tongue moves slowly, dragging against every inch of me, savoring, taking me. The blindfold makes it so much better. I can't see him. Only feel.
“Please… I want to feel you… Umm… Down there. Please…”
He stops for a moment and chuckles.
“Then say it. Beg for it. Tell me exactly what you want, Rose.”
“I want to feel your… tongue… inside me…” I manage to reply. Just saying the words turns me on.
“Of course. I’m here to please you.”