Rush (Breathless #1)(88)

She turned her face up to him, her eyes still haunted. But she didn’t say no. She didn’t say anything at all. She just nodded.

Relief surged through him, leaving him weak and shaken. He had to wait a moment to collect his strength. She hadn’t rejected him—yet.

He gathered her in his arms, lifting her protectively, holding her as closely as he could as he carried her into the bathroom. He set her down in front of the shower, taking just enough time to strip out of his own clothing before he opened the door and went in before her. He reached back, taking her hand, guiding her into the shower with him.

For a long moment, he simply held her, both standing under the hot spray. Then he began to wash her, lavishing every inch of her body with the scented soap. He left no part of her untouched, gently rinsing away any reminder that another’s hands had been on her.

He soaped her hair, gently massaging the shampoo into her scalp, and then he rinsed each strand. Then he pulled her into the protective embrace of his arms, holding her as they stood, silent under the steady stream of soothing water.

Finally he reached up to turn off the spray and opened the shower door, reaching for the towel so she didn’t get cold. He wrapped the towel around her body, keeping her close as he dried her skin and her hair. He didn’t bother with himself, using the chill to punish himself. She was what was important. Not him. He just hoped he hadn’t realized it too late.

When she was completely dry, he wrapped the towel around her head and then helped her into the thick, plush robe. He tied the ends securely around her waist, covering her body so she didn’t feel vulnerable. So she felt safe. Even from him.

He grabbed one of the other towels as he ushered her back into the bedroom, and only after he had her tucked into bed did he then dry himself and pull on his boxers. He reached for the phone and tersely ordered hot chocolate. Then he sat on the edge of the bed and urged her upward so he could finish drying her hair.

The silence stretched between them as he rubbed the moisture from the strands. When he was satisfied that most of the dampness was gone, he took the towel into the bathroom and collected her comb. He returned to see her sitting just as he’d left her.

He climbed onto the bed and pulled her between his legs, positioning her so he could comb out the tangles. He was infinitely patient, combing strand by strand until her hair began to dry and hang limply down her back.

After he set the comb on the nightstand, he grasped her shoulders and leaned his head down to press a kiss to her neck. She shivered as he continued to rain gentle kisses down the curve of her shoulder and then back up again.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

She tensed slightly underneath his mouth and then a distant knock sounded. Reluctantly he pulled away, climbing out of bed.

“I’ll be right back. Make yourself comfortable. I’ll bring the hot chocolate in here.”

She nodded and as he moved away, she settled back against the pillows he’d been leaning on and pulled the covers to her chin.

He took the tray from the room service attendant and wasted no time returning to the bedroom where Mia lay. He set it on the desk against the wall and then carried one of the steaming mugs to Mia.

She grasped it with both hands as if seeking its warmth, and then brought it to her lips where she blew over the steaming chocolate before tentatively taking the first sip. She winced when the hot liquid hit her wounded lip, and she pulled the cup away with a grimace.

He hurriedly took it from her grasp, furious with himself because he hadn’t thought. He hadn’t considered that the hot chocolate would hurt her injured mouth.

“I’ll get you some ice,” Gabe said. “Don’t move, baby.”

He stalked back into the living room, grabbed the ice bucket the room service attendant had left and then wrapped some of the ice in a towel. When he went back into the bedroom, Mia was still sitting just as he’d left her, her eyes vacant and distant.

Taking a chance, he sat down beside her and carefully pressed the ice pack to her mouth. She flinched and tried to move away, but he persisted, his voice gentle and low.

“Mia, darling, you need the ice so it won’t swell.”

She reached up, taking the towel from him and then put a foot of space between them. He didn’t blame her and he didn’t fight her. It was far less than he deserved. He rose from the bed and paced a short distance away before turning to look at her again.

Gabe stood back, anxious and worried. Insecure. God, he wasn’t an insecure person and yet with Mia, he was riddled with uncertainty. He was seized by the enormity of his f**k-up. This wasn’t an oops I’m sorry, forgive and forget situation. He’d placed her in harm’s way. He’d allowed another man to abuse her when she was in his protection.

He didn’t know if he could or would ever forgive himself so how could he expect her to do the same?

He was still hovering when she loosened her hold on the towel and allowed it to slide down her neck. Her gaze was weary and defeated. It made him wince to see the light extinguished from her beautiful gaze.

“I’m tired,” she said softly.

And she did look utterly drained. Fatigue shadowed her face and dulled her eyes.

He’d wanted to talk to her. To beg her forgiveness. To explain to her that it would never happen again. But he wouldn’t push her. Not until she was ready. And it was evident that she had no desire to talk about the matter tonight. Maybe she was still coming to terms with it herself. Or maybe she was just working up the nerve to tell him to f**k off.