Rush (34 page)

“Focus only on me,” he whispered as he thrust again, filling her mouth with his rigid length.

It was an easy command to obey. She closed her eyes and lost herself in Gabe’s dominance.

He began to move faster and with more force. He thrust and then held himself deeply, locked against the back of her throat. Then he released her and smoothed his hands over her face while he waited for her to catch her breath.

“She’s fucking hot,” Tyson breathed.

“I want some of that,” Charles said, his voice strained with lust and envy.

Gabe’s hands tightened on her face. He thrust again and then began pushing hard and fast. He erupted against her throat, onto her tongue, spilling onto her lips as he withdrew and thrust forward again.

“
Merde
,” the Frenchman muttered.

The wet sucking sounds rose in the room, erotic and almost harsh against the silence.

“Swallow it,” Gabe ordered. “Lick me clean, Mia.”

He continued to rock against her, giving her time to obey his dictate. She licked and swallowed, until finally he withdrew, his cock shining with moisture from her mouth.

He reached down and fumbled with the knots at her wrists, loosening the silken rope from around her hands and ankles. Her arms and legs screamed their protest when he pulled her to her feet. He stood there holding her a long moment, allowing her to regain her strength. Then he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the long coffee table in front of the couches.

He laid her down, spreading her legs, and then he raised her arms above her head and slipped the rope around each wrist before binding them to the legs of the coffee table underneath her head.

When he stood again, his gaze was directed at the man nearest to Mia.

“You can touch her. You can pleasure her. Do
not
hurt her in any way. Do not frighten her. This is all about her. You keep your dick in your pants and do not penetrate her in any way. We clear?”

“Hell yeah,” Charles said as he rose.

chapter thirty

Gabe backed away from where Mia lay tied to the coffee table. She was an irresistibly erotic sight, her long dark hair tousled and tumbled over the edge, her eyes wide, lips puffy from his possession.

Charles Willis circled her like a waiting vulture, his eyes feasting greedily on Mia’s naked body. Gabe’s stomach clenched when Charles’s fingers trailed over her belly and up to her breasts. Charles circled one taut peak, teasing it to rigidity.

Stéphane and Tyson closed in but stood just back to give Charles his turn. They waited, like predators stalking prey, for their opportunity to touch her.

This was wrong. So very wrong. His gut screamed at him. His mind protested. She was
his
. No one should be touching her but him, and yet he’d set this up. As what, a test? Something to prove to himself?

He brooded as Charles continued his exploration of Mia’s beautiful body. A body that belonged to Gabe. He was a possessive man—he knew this—and yet he’d never had a problem allowing another man to pleasure a woman under his care. He was…indifferent to it. Not so with Mia.

He hated every goddamn minute of this.

Lisa’s taunt echoed over and over in his ears.

Are you in love with her?

He turned away, unable to bear the sight of Charles’s hands on Mia’s body. Her soft gasps filled the air. He stood tense, hands shoved into his pockets, across the room, not wanting to see or hear the results of his foolishness.

He was a fool. And a complete bastard. A cowardly asshole.

This wasn’t
right
. He couldn’t allow this to continue. All he’d proven to himself was that he’d never share Mia with another living soul, and he’d be damned if he allowed another man to touch what was his.

This had to end. They had to leave.

He was about to turn and order them all out when he froze, his blood turning to ice.

“No!” Mia cried. “
Gabe!
”

His name was a terrified cry for help.

He whirled around to see Charles with his fly unzipped, his hand curled roughly in Mia’s hair as he tried to force himself into her mouth.

Rage exploded, a volcanic force erupting. He charged forward and to his horror, Charles, enraged by Mia’s refusal, backhanded her across the face. Mia’s head snapped back, her eyes wide with shock. Blood immediately seeped from the corner of her mouth.

Gabe went crazy.

He threw Charles away from Mia. He hit the couch and Gabe went after him. The other two men scrambled up and away, one of them hastily refastening his fly.

Gabe doubled Charles over with a fist to his gut and then flattened him with another to Charles’s jaw.

Gabe loomed over him, murderous fury sizzling through his veins. “Get out. Get the fuck out of here and I better never see you again. I’ll fucking ruin you.”

He wanted nothing more than to beat the man to a pulp, but
he had to see to Mia. Mia, whom he’d betrayed horribly. Mia, who had trusted him. Mia, whom he’d acted reprehensibly toward. All because he was a coward unable to face the truth of what she meant to him.

The other two men helped pick Charles up and they fled the suite, slamming the door behind them.

Gabe flew to Mia, dread weighing on him with suffocating force. Her lips and chin quivered and tears shone in her eyes. She looked scared and embarrassed. Shame shone bright in her tear-filled eyes and it gutted him.

And blood. God. There was blood where that bastard had
hit
her.

He knelt down to untie her hands, his fingers shaking as he fumbled with the knots. He pressed his mouth to her hair and her temple, kissing her over and over.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so sorry. Oh God, Mia. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

She was silent, and he wasn’t sure if it was because she was in shock over what had happened or if she was too pissed at him to speak. He couldn’t blame either reaction. This was all on him. He’d done this to her. He’d hurt her.

When she was free, he gathered her in his arms, pulling her off the table. He carried her into the bedroom and crawled onto the bed, still holding her tightly. She turned into his chest, burying her face against his neck. The shock of her hot tears on his skin ripped his heart right out of his chest.

God he was such a bastard. A complete and utter asshole. He clutched her to him, desperation crawling up his spine and seizing him by the throat.

“I’m sorry, Mia. God, I’m so sorry.”

It was all he could say. Over and over. Panic hit him right in the gut. What if she walked away? He certainly couldn’t blame her. Hell, she should be running, not walking.

“Please, baby. Please don’t cry. I’m so sorry. It will never happen again. I shouldn’t have allowed it.”

He rocked her back and forth in his arms as she clung to him, her body still shaking. Whether it was fear, upset or anger, or a combination of the three he wasn’t sure. He deserved whatever she threw at him. He’d failed her utterly. He hadn’t protected her. He hadn’t taken care of her as he’d promised. All because he was trying to distance himself, trying to prove some stupid point to himself that he didn’t need her.

It was such a lie. He did need her. She was his obsession, his fix, a craving that went soul deep. Never had he felt such an overwhelming, fierce possessiveness as when another man put his hands on what Gabe considered his. But he hadn’t treated her like she was his. He’d treated her like she was a thing. A toy, not a woman he cared about.

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.