Rush

upward so he could finish drying her hair.
    The silence stretched between them as he rubbed the moisturefrom 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 theice 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