The belt clinked softly as he set it aside. Then his hand was there, warm and firm, rubbing the heat from her skin. He eased her upright and gathered her into his arms. She cried against his shoulder—not from humiliation, but from relief. The apology came out muffled and genuine. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Yes.” He gestured to the space beside him. “Come here.”

“Twelve,” she choked out. “Thirteen.”

She shook her head. “No, sir.”