Xavier loosened his hold, putting an unwelcome distance between their bodies. She felt the retreat in her marrow. It chilled her down deep. She shivered. “Hey, are you cold? Let’s grab my jacket. It’ll be big on you, but it’ll keep you warm.”
She didn’t want a stupid jacket to keep her warm. She wanted Xavier to do the job. He’d nearly set her on fire with his kisses and she needed to know just how hot he could make her before she burst into flames.
17
Xavier had lost his freakin’ mind. The lack of metal ability could be the only explanation. Having Frankie in his arms, pressed up against him, all warm and soft and sweet smelling, and he had lost his ever-lovin’ mind.
He slid his suit coat over her shoulders and had to remind himself kissing her skin first was a no-no. He shook his head. She’d gotten too close. Which meant one of them would walk away from the experience broken hearted. And by damn, it would not be him.
She raised a hand and covered his where it rested on her shoulder. Her smile melted him and hardened him all at the same time. He was a mess.
And he’d be damned if he would ever hurt her.
Oh, shit.
She twisted around and threaded her arms around his waist. “Thanks for showing me this side of you. I know not many people get to see it.” She eased up and kissed his chin. “You’re not so bad.”
He laughed. “Yeah? Compared to what?”
“Compared to the monster, who hates being injured and snaps at little ol’ Doc for forcing him to do things he doesn’t like.”
“Yeah.” Guilt slithered up, cold and menacing, to snake around his heart, making it hard to breathe. “I’m sorry, Do- Frankie. I’m a stubborn asshole sometimes.”
“No.” Her sarcasm warmed his insides and he laughed. “Nobody likes to have to depend on other people, but sometimes it’s the only thing we can do.”
“And who do you lean on?”
“My mom.” She shrugged. “But given her condition, she leans on me much more. She hates it. Has lots of guilt. Especially when I was young.”
He didn’t want to ask the next question, but couldn’t stop the words from leaping from his brain and springboarding off the tip of his tongue. “Do you lean on anybody else?”
“Christian.” That she didn’t hesitate nearly castrated him. “He’s always been there when I needed a shoulder to cry on or a strong back to help out. I’m not sure what I’d do without him.”
Xavier’s throat constricted so tightly he wondered if his face turned blue. He choked down a breath. “It’s good to have people like that in your life.”
Not that he’d know from personal experience.
Well, now that wasn’t quite true. Grayson had been the best friend he’d ever had. He nearly burst out laughing. He and Grayson weren’t anywhere near that kind of friend.
A jealousy like he’d never felt before rolled and tossed, bubbling through his veins like molten lava, eating everything in its path. He didn’t like the idea of Frankie having that kind of friend.
Hell, for all he knew, she could be a heartbeat away from a proposal.
His jaw clenched closed, the muscles forcing his molars to grind together. Frankie’s finger, soft and tender, slid over the flexing muscles.
“And who does the Great Matthias Xavier lean on?”
“Nobody.”
“Oh, come on. You have to lean on somebody.”
She ran her hand down his chest, smoothing his tie into place. He hadn’t noticed earlier, the stripe running through his tie matched her dress perfectly. He nodded to himself. That’s what she’d meant when she’d asked if he’d planned it.
No, he hadn’t. He wished he had, but because he hadn’t, it meant they were on the same wavelength. And being in unison with Frankie on anything sounded like a really good place to be.
“I’d like to lean on you.” He didn’t know where the words had come from. He didn’t know where the thought came from. He cracked his neck on his spine, wondering if the motion would trigger the head rotation common with possession. That had to be the excuse, because he sure as hell didn’t admit those kinds of things. Even if he was stupid to think them.
Her blue eyes twinkled brightly in the low light of the room, her lids drooped a bit and she bit her lip before admitting, “I’d like that very much.” And then she leaned into him, letting him support the both of them.
When had his life taken this turn? He certainly hadn’t seen it coming. He would have avoided it like the plague if he had.
Frankie barely got her hand in front of her mouth to stifle the yawn before it cracked her jaw. Her eyes started to water and she smiled. “I guess I didn’t realize how tired I am.”
He reached into his pocket and threw some bills onto the table for the cleaning staff. Or one of the assholes he’d, at one time, hoped to call friend. “Why don’t we head up to the room?”
“Don’t let me ruin the party.” She yawned again. “You can hang out if you’d like.”
He rolled his eyes. “Yeah. I so wanna do that.” Tucking her against his side, he purposely glanced around the room. “’Cause I’ve spent so much time hanging out with them.”
She nodded. “But if you want—”
“I don’t do anything I don’t want to do. And I don’t want.” He kissed the top of her head. “Now let’s get you upstairs before you fall asleep.”
***
Frankie stood in front of the bathroom mirror and wondered how this weekend would end. She felt her heart softening toward Xavier. Who was she kidding? She’d fallen in love with him.
She liked being on his arm. Liked having him look at her the way he had tonight. Liked being pressed up against all the hard planes of his body. And she really, really liked his kisses. They were demanding in their passion, gentle in their possession. It wouldn’t take many more to become addicted to them. Addicted to him.
Outside in the room, she heard her cell phone ring. Twice. Thr—
Oh no!
“Frankie’s phone. Xavier. Who the hell’s this? Oh. Hey. She’s in the bathroom.”
She wanted to race out into the bedroom and rip the phone out of Xavier’s hand. It would be Christian calling. And Christian didn’t hold his tongue. He thought it, he said it. Kind of like Xavier. So put the two of them in a conversation and…
Oh crap!
“How the hell should I know what she’s wearing to bed? Boxers. What do you sleep in? Oh … dude! I so did not need to know that!”
She whipped the door open and bee-lined it for Xavier. He looked up from where he sat on the edge of the bed and smiled. His eyebrows raised and his gaze dropped to openly gawk at her chest. She crossed one arm over her breasts and held her hand out for the phone.
He chuckled, shaking his head, not taking his eyes off her pajamas. Or what showed plain as day through the nearly sheer, white cotton of her tank top. “Hey, your girl’s right here.”
He handed Frankie the phone and wiggled his brows. “I’ll be in the shower if you need me.”
As she raised the phone to her ear, Christian bellowed, “He did not just say that!”
“Say what?”
“He invited you to join him in the shower, sweetheart.”
“He did not!” But as Xavier glanced over his shoulder and smiled before strutting into the confines of the bathroom, she wasn’t so sure.
“Don’t be naïve.” Christian laughed. “More importantly. I need to know how you two ended up in the same room.”
She explained, giving him the quick version. His laughter built with every word of the story, until she knew he’d doubled over, arms wrapped around his gut, while he gasped for breath.
“The honeymoon suite?” Laugh. Laugh. Wheeze. Snort. “Are you shittin’ me?”
“It’s not funny, Chris.”
“You’re right. It’s not funny. It’s awesome! You’re going to sleep with him.”
“I am not!” Her feet widened and her hand popped onto her hip. She glared at the wall, wishing he
could see the disgusted look on her face.
“And how many beds are there in the honeymoon suite?”
That stopped her in her indignant tracks. “One.”
“Yeah.” She pictured him nodding, a smug smirk on his handsome face and wanted to slap him. “And I’m going to guess one of you will sleep in the bathtub?”
She snorted. “Of course not. We’re both adults and we can sleep in the same bed.”
Light bulb.
Dammit!
“You’ll be sleeping with him, sweetheart.”
As much as she loved Christian, there were times she wanted to throttle him. This happened to be one of those times. She barely resisted the urge to chuck her phone into the wall. But only barely.
“Listen here, dirty bird—” She groaned at the near shriek in her voice. “—you’re right, I will be sleeping with him.”
His laughter interrupted her, but only for a moment.
“But I won’t be sleeping with him.”
“Keep tellin’ yourself that, babe.” With another laugh he hung up on her.
She growled and searched the room for something to hit. She pounded a pillow then threw her phone at the bed. It bounced twice on the mattress before making the jump to the floor.
As if she hadn’t psyched herself up enough, now she had Christian putting thoughts into her head. Dangerous thoughts. Thoughts that could cost her everything: her dignity, her career, and most importantly, her heart.
***
Xavier heard Frankie’s frustrated outburst and wondered what Christian had said to upset her. If the guy’d decided to give her a hard time for sleeping in the same room with him, he’d have to call and set him straight. Not that he had any desire to ease his mind. But he didn’t want Frankie catching flack for something that was out of her control.
When he cracked the bathroom, darkness greeted him. He flipped the light off in the bathroom and stumbled toward the bed. Or where he thought the bed would be. His baby toe caught something, sending pain shooting up his leg. He jumped around, holding his toe, cursing up a storm under his breath.
The light flipped on and he couldn’t see. He grabbed for something, anything, to keep him from taking a nose dive into the carpet. Hangers clanked. He felt the cool metal of the clothes rack and held on for dear life. Unsteady on his feet, his toe throbbing to the increased beat of his heart, Xavier groaned when his hip bumped into something hard. He blinked just in time to see her suitcase, and all its contents, scatter to the floor.
He blinked in wild succession, the bright room and Frankie’s surprised expression, coming into view. She sat up in the middle of the bed, her hand on her throat. She scrambled out from the covers.
“Oh, my gosh, Xavier. I’m so sorry. I didn’t even think.”
“It’s okay.”
She stepped around the bed and the light from the nightstand illuminated her through the thin cotton of her top.
His entire body tightened at the sight of her long, lean legs, her curvy hips and tiny waist. Unable to take the torture a moment longer, he looked at the floor. Yeah, so not the reprieve he sought. Scattered around his feet rested the confines of her suitcase. Yoga pants, jeans, nylons—Had she been wearing those? He didn’t think so—a bra and panties. He gulped. A whole rainbow of panties. He nudged a bright yellow thong with his toe and couldn’t breathe.
To see those on her. To take them off of her.
She dropped to her knees in front of him and his thoughts turned to another very explicit activity he would like to engage in. Color flooded her cheeks, at least what he could see of them from his vantage point, as her hands scooped up the wet dream surrounding him.
He bent to help her. Without realizing what he’d done he picked up a pink and white striped pair of panties and held them out to her. “Here.”
Her cheeks blazed hotter as she snatched them from his fingers. The soft rasp of silky fabric grated his skin like the coarsest sandpaper.
“Thanks, but I think I can get this myself.” She jumped to her feet and grunted when she tugged at the suitcase. It’d come to rest in an awkward position, wedging itself between the holder and the wall. She yanked on the handle, brushed a lock of hair out of her face and swore.
He grinned, but bit it back. “The least I can do is lift it for you.”
“Your shoulder—”
“Is fine.” Wedged in tight, he had to tug. Twice. The suitcase flew out, whipping in an arc before he settled it on its perch. “I’m sorry.”
She quirked her head, raised a brow. “And what do you have to be sorry for?” She bent over, giving him a nice view of what was under her boy shorts, and captured the wayward lingerie section. “You didn’t turn off the lights. You didn’t then blind yourself by flipping them on without warning.” She threw it all into the suitcase, not worrying about things getting wrinkled. Why would she? She’d already proved to be a wiz with the iron. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
He took her hands. “Then why do I feel so damn bad?”
She looked at where their fingers entwined. It seemed an eternity before her eyes sought his. The tears shimmering on the surface cut deeper than any dagger, her quivering lip shook him to the core.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
She squeaked something about being an idiot.
“Come here.” He wrapped his arms around her and simply held her. Each falling tear singed his bare skin. She didn’t talk and neither did he. He’d never been good with women’s emotions. He hadn’t had a chance to practice much. With Frankie laying herself bare to him, though, he wanted to be the Einstein of how to soothe her.
He bent and scooped her up with his arm beneath her knees, cradling her against his chest. She rested her head on his shoulder, wrapped an arm around his neck. Her breath stroked his neck and every hair on his body stood on end. Each step toward the bed became torturous, like walking through cement as it hardened.
With the utmost care he laid her in the middle of the bed then tucked the covers around her. He spread the flat sheet out over the fitted one before sliding beneath the comforter.
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous.” She tugged at the sheet, unable to get it from under his big body. “We can sleep under the same sheet.”
He offered her a small smile and the absolute truth. “You might be able to, Doc, but I can’t.”
18
And how exactly was she supposed to fall asleep after a statement like that?
Xavier had no problem. He’d reached across her, flipped the light off, and been out cold in two seconds flat. He slept on his back, his face the picture of serenity. If she hadn’t been afraid of waking him, she would have used her fingertips to touch every sexy inch. She had to use her eyes to stroke him instead.
The way his face relaxed in sleep made her want to memorize the innocent expression. He looked vulnerable, loveable. Her heart clenched. She’d seen glimpses of this man before, but X had been quick to hide any kind of emotion—unless it was anger. The man had no problem throwing a trash can or putting his fist into the drywall or cursing up a blue streak. This softer side of him and the insecurity he tried desperately to hide from the world only endeared him to her.
The strong chiseled cut of his jaw, when tense, turned her on. Now, in its completely relaxed state, she wanted to run her tongue over the stubble, cover it with kisses, searching for the perfect pink lips that would return her passion.
They’d return it alright. But for how long?
She hated the doubt always creeping into her thoughts. If she dared, she’d throw caution to the wind and give him the rest of her heart. She’d been half in love with him before starting the rehab thing with him. All these months later, and she was afraid she neared hopeless.
He snuffled and snored and turned onto his side, facing her. His huge bicep bulged where it pillowed his head. How she’d enjoy to sleep there.
She shook her head and forced her eyes closed. She wouldn’t open them until morning. She sq
ueezed them, tried to relax, rolled over onto her side, giving Xavier her back. Maybe if she wasn’t tempted to look at him, she’d be able to get some sleep.
Yeah, fat chance!
Instead she found herself staring at the herringbone pattern in the cream wallpaper where a splash of moonlight filtered in from the blinds.
Okay, so she’d count. That always worked in the past.
One bed. Duh.
Two people. Not helping!
She counted. And counted. And by the time she resorted to the rows in the wallpaper, her eyelids drooped. She welcomed the darkness and gave into the exhaustion.
***
Frankie’s eyes flipped open.
She listened, unsure as to what had jerked her out of her sleep. Hell, it could have been just about anything—a gnat’s sigh, an ant’s hiccup—for as deeply as she’d drowsed.
Light bled around the still cracked bathroom door. She clearly heard who was in there and exactly what he was doing. Everything about Xavier seemed to be powerful. The toilet flushed. The light flipped off. And still Frankie faced the wall, frozen, pretending to be asleep.
The sheets flipped back, bringing with it an icy breeze, freezing her backside. She gasped. He chuckled.
“Don’t worry, sweet thang,” Xavier drawled, “I’ll keep you warm.”
The second his body made contact with hers, she confirmed the theory of a human body spontaneously bursting into flames. One hundred perfect fact. No Mythbusters needed.
He tucked his knees behind hers, folded his arm around her waist and tugged her back into his searing heat. He extended his arm under her head, the strong muscle becoming the best pillow she’d ever laid her head on. Unable to help herself, she sighed, closed her eyes, and enjoyed the one and only chance she’d get to sleep with Matthias Xavier III.
***
Damn, it was hot!
Out of Left Field Page 13
