Rush (Breathless #1)

Rush (Breathless #1) Page 37

He stroked his hands down her trembling back. She was shaking harder now and he was desperate to comfort her, to offer her what he hadn’t given her before.

She clutched at his shoulders and tried to pull away, but he held her fiercely, afraid to let any space between them. He had to touch her, had to feel her in his arms. He was afraid if he let her go, he’d never get her back.

“I want a shower,” she choked out. “Please, I need it. I just want to be clean. He…touched me.”

Desolation swept through Gabe like a winter storm, cold and stark. Of course she felt violated. Not only by Charles, but also by him. He’d given her the ultimate betrayal in allowing this to happen. He’d not only allowed it, he’d encouraged it. How the hell could he ever get past something like this? How could she?

“Let me go start it,” he said, wiping her hair from her face.

Her cheeks were damp with tears, and her eyes were wounded as she stared back at him. Blood still oozed from the corner of her mouth. Then she looked away, unable to meet his gaze, and his stomach dropped.

“Stay right here, baby. I’ll go start it and then you can take your shower.”

He backed away from the bed, his instincts screaming not to let her go even for the moment it took to start the water running. His chest felt empty and panic clawed at his throat. Never had he experienced such emotional devastation. It unhinged him. Made him crazy.

Not when Lisa had walked out on their marriage. Not when she’d smeared him in the media and spouted her lies. Nothing had even come close to this and the fear that had him in its vicious hold.

He hurried to the bathroom and turned on the shower, testing the water until it was the right temperature. He pulled out a bathrobe and a towel, his haste making him clumsy. He cursed when the towel fell off the counter, and he bent to pick it up, folding it back up and making sure it was within reach of the shower.

He went back into the bedroom to find Mia sitting on the edge of the bed, her legs drawn protectively to her chest. She hugged her knees to her chin, her face down, her hair spilling down her legs. She looked so damn vulnerable that Gabe wanted to die on the spot.

He’d done this to her. Not Charles. Not some other man. He had done it. There was no getting around that fact.

He touched her shoulder, allowing his fingers to twine in her silky hair. “Mia, baby, the shower is ready.” He hesitated before he said the rest, worried that she’d reject him, knowing he deserved it if she did. “Do you want me to help you?”

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 fuck-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 fuck off.

He nodded, a knot solidly lodged in his throat. He went to turn the lights off, leaving only the lamp at his bedside on.

Then he got into bed, unsure of whether she’d want him to touch her or not. When he was beneath the covers, he reached back to turn off the lamp, dousing the room in darkness. Only the glow from the city lights illuminated the curtains.

He turned back over, automatically reaching for her. But she’d already turned on her side, facing away from him. She didn’t reject his touch, but neither did she embrace it. Still, he curled his arm around her middle, locking her solidly to his chest. He wanted her to know he was here. And God, more than that he needed the assurance that she was here.

After a moment, she let out a breathy sigh and he felt her relax into his hold. Her soft even breathing filled the room signaling her sleep. Or at least that she was on her way.

But he didn’t sleep. Didn’t close his eyes. Because every time he tried, all he saw was the look on Mia’s face when another man had forced his touch on her.

Chapter thirty-one

The next morning when Mia awakened, Gabe wasn’t in bed with her. She felt the loss, but she was also relieved because she wasn’t sure she could face him yet. There were too many things she had to say and she wasn’t entirely certain how she was going to say them. Maybe that made her a coward. But she knew that what she had to say could very well mean the end of her relationship with Gabe.

She was still lying under the covers, hugged up to Gabe’s pillow, deciding whether to move or not when Gabe appeared in the doorway, a breakfast tray in his hands.

“Are you hungry?” he asked in a quiet, serious tone. “I ordered breakfast.”

She was surprised by how nervous he seemed. There was worry in his eyes and genuine concern for her. And regret shone, darkening his gaze every time he looked at her. Her heart twisted and she closed her eyes to block out images from the night before.

“Mia?”

She opened her eyes to find him standing by the bed still holding the tray. She pushed herself upward, propping pillows behind her back so she could sit up to eat.

“Thank you,” she murmured when he placed the tray across her legs.

He eased down on the bed beside her and thumbed over her bruised lip. She winced when he hit a particularly tender spot, and his gaze was immediately apologetic.

“Will you be able to eat?” he asked in a low voice.

She nodded and then looked down and picked up her fork, no longer able to hold his gaze.

“I’ve cancelled all our business engagements.”

Her gaze shot upward, a frown gathering her brows. Before she could respond, he continued, as if she hadn’t reacted at all.

“I’ve arranged our flight back home for tomorrow morning first thing. But today, I’m going to take you to see Paris. The Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame, the Louvre and whatever else you want to see. I have reservations for dinner at seven. A bit early by Paris standards, but we depart early and I want you to be rested.”

“That sounds wonderful,” she said huskily.

The joy and relief in his eyes was staggering. He opened his mouth as if to say something further, and then he clamped it shut again.

She couldn’t imagine why he’d cancelled his business engagements. The sole purpose of their visit was business and the upcoming hotel. But a day in Paris with Gabe was something straight out of one of her fantasies.

No business. No strange men. Nothing but the two of them having fun and enjoying their time together. It sounded like heaven. And for a brief time, she could ignore the strain between them. She could pretend that last night didn’t happen.

It wouldn’t go away. It had to be addressed. But she’d take the respite offered, and she’d face what it was she needed to say to Gabe later. Because when that time came, it might well be the end of their relationship.

While Gabe watched, his gaze lingering on her, worry still evident in his eyes, she hurriedly ate, wanting to have as much time to explore the city as possible. One day to take in Paris? Impossible. But she’d take as big a chunk out of it as she could.

After she finished, she dressed and pulled her hair back into a clip. She didn’t bother with makeup. She’d brought her favorite pair of jeans and now she was grateful she had.

“It’s cold out this morning. Did you bring something warm to wear?” Gabe asked.

He was leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom, watching as she pulled on her jeans.

“We can always go buy what you need. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

She smiled. “I have a sweater. And if we’re walking a lot, that’ll keep me warm.”

His breath left his throat in an audible rush. “God you’re beautiful when you smile.”

Surprised by the compliment and by the absolute sincerity in his voice, she smiled more broadly and then ducked her head self-consciously.

After pulling on her socks and her tennis shoes, she retrieved the button-up sweater and put it on, leaving it open in the front.