Out of Left Field

by Morgan Kearns

Still in a daze, Xavier reached for the edge of the blankets and yanked them away from his back. He welcomed the whoosh of cool air with a full body shiver. The echo triggered his awareness.

  Every neuron fired at the same time. His eyes flew open. It hadn’t been a dream. Frankie, sound asleep next to him, her head supported by his arm, sent his heart racing. This felt so good. This woman in his arms, in his bed, felt too damned good. He could get used to it.

  And why shouldn’t he?

  He deserved happiness as much as the next guy. Frankie made him happy. She made him a little mental, too. But that was only because she cared so damned much. Her gentleness, her strength, her brains, her beauty, all of it called to him in a way no other woman ever had. He doubted another woman ever would.

  He kissed the top of her head, her hair tangling with the growth of his whiskers, and held her tighter, certain he may never let her go. She might be dating that Christian guy, but Xavier hadn’t thrown his hat into the ring. He’d been too stupid, too stubborn to admit how much he wanted Frankie in his life. No more. He’d make his play. As soon as she woke and could comprehend his advances, he’d take advantage of their time together.

  The way she snuggled into his body gave him huge hope. She’d accept him. They’d be making love by lunchtime.

  ***

  Xavier drifted out of unconsciousness a little while later to the sound of singing and running water. With his eyes closed, he listened. The singing was awful, the water arousing. Not the running water itself but the knowledge of what it meant.

  Frankie was naked.

  He rolled over onto his stomach, trying to staunch the effects it had on his body. A fist to the pillow only flattened instead of fluffing. He grabbed the pillow and yanked it over his head. When he could still hear her muffled rendition of “Let’s Hear It For The Boy” he jammed his fingers in his ears.

  Now he could only hear the blood rushing behind his eardrums and the puffs of breath as he fought for control of his libido. Thoughts of last night, of Frankie’s dress cut low, showing off her cleavage, her long legs made longer by those killer heels had him grinning. The way she’d smiled at him, stayed close to his side and made him feel like he hadn’t in his whole life. Cherished.

  And the way she’d curled into him while she slept gave new meaning to heaven. He didn’t need to die to go there, he’d been there already and his angel’s name was Frankie Holden.

  ***

  Frankie dressed in a pair of yoga pants and a tank top. She’d like to hit the gym before they headed out for the day of sightseeing he’d promised. It’d been a couple of days since she’d punched something and her muscles demanded a workout.

  Her nerves required she hit something. Preferably something that wouldn’t hit back.

  She’d slept like crap last night. It’d taken forever to fall asleep after Xavier had wrapped himself around her. When sunlight flickered through the blinds, she’d known she needed to get out of bed before she did something really stupid. Or stupid-er.

  She should be committed due to being a serious danger to herself.

  She ran a brush through her hair then pulled it into her standard ponytail. After a bit of lip gloss she opened the door and liberated the steam.

  Xavier was gone. Disappointment settled like a rock in the pit of her stomach. Pressing her palm to her belly, she tried to convince herself it was for the best.

  A soft snort brought another inspection of the bed, revealing him on his stomach, nearly buried beneath the blankets. Even his head hid under the pillows. She walked around the bed and looked at him.

  Good grief, the man was sexy as sin. His mouth parted slightly, his jaw’s shadow dark and deadly. Her heart stuttered. She couldn’t afford to feel this way about Xavier.

  Even as the thought floated across her mind, she pushed the pillow off of his head. His dark hair created an amazing contrast next to the white pillow case. She dropped down on her haunches, bringing them face to face. His nose was straight. His lashes were dark and long, resting against tanned cheeks. Wrinkles around his eyes made her smile. She adored those lines when they were most prominent. She loved his laugh, a deep, erotic rumble. The way his eyes twinkled when he was about to say something he shouldn’t made her heart beat double time.

  Without thinking she reached out to touch his face.

  His eyes popped open and he sat upright. “What the… Oh.”

  Startled surprise melted into annoyance and he laid back down, their faces only inches apart. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. I was just … um—”

  “Looking at me.” He closed his eyes in a silent dismissal.

  “Yeah. I guess I was … looking at you.”

  “Why?”

  She wasn’t sure how to answer. She didn’t know why. She’d always found Matthias Xavier fascinating. But the last few months had shown her a side of him she didn’t know existed, a part she cared very much about.

  “Frankie?”

  She blinked. “Yeah?”

  “Why you lookin’ at me while I sleep?”

  Her heart stuttered in her chest and a knot formed in her throat. “You want the truth?”

  “Sure. Let’s go with that.” No irritation, just a gruff, drowsy deepness that did tingly things to her insides. She didn’t feel patronized or rushed. His breaths hit her face in slow, steady puffs as he watched her.

  She watched him right back with her heart jackhammering in her chest and her lungs aching for breath. Now or never. And she couldn’t live with never.

  Decision made she reached out and traced the lines next to his eyes with the tip of her finger. “I love these lines.”

  “They’re just wrinkles, Doc.”

  “Very sexy wrinkles.” As soon as the words left her mouth, a flash of embarrassed heat shot through her skin. She couldn’t believe she’d gone there with him.

  “You think I’m sexy?” He grinned, rubbing his hand over his cheek. The soft sound of whiskers against skin sent erotic images plowing through her brain.

  “I think—” She sucked in a breath. “—you have the power to hurt me.”

  He sat up, swiveled around until his feet came to rest on the floor. He took her by the forearms, guiding her to her feet. The seriousness in his eyes made her breath catch. “Frankie, I would never hurt you. You have to know that.”

  “I wasn’t talking physically, X.” She loved his hands on her bare skin. Dancing in his arms last night had been as close to heaven as she’d ever been. Until she’d slept in them.

  Heavy duty narcotics couldn’t compare to the effect Xavier had on her. Did he realize his thumbs stroked her biceps? Heaven help her, she would melt all over the hideous carpet.

  “I don’t get it.” His brows crinkled. “Let’s chalk it up to fuzzy morning brain, but you’re going to have to explain it to me, sweetheart.” The pleading in his hazel eyes sealed her fate.

  “You would be very easy to fall in love with.”

  His expression hardened. “I don’t do love.”

  “I know.” Her heart sank to her toes.

  “And what do you think you know?” His grip tightened on her arms.

  She jerked out of his hold, stepped between his spread thighs, bringing her nose to his. “If you think I haven’t heard the stories, then you’re an idiot. You’re an icon, the manwhore who has a slut in every city. Do you think I haven’t seen with my own eyes when you’ve slipped a key into some woman’s hand?”

  His jaw ticked. His eyes flashed from hazel to green to brown.

  It broke her heart to hear herself say the words. She hadn’t realized how much witnessing his womanizing ways had hurt her. “Your reputation is second only to Grayson—well, the old Grayson. The one from all those years ago.” She let out a frustrated groan and slammed her fists into her thighs. “I can’t believe I even let myself feel anything for you.”

  His voice dropped to a sexy whisper. “And what exactly do you feel fo
r me?”

  “Not a damned thing!” She stepped back, her heart thundering in her ribcage. If she could just get to the bathroom before she broke down. But Xavier wasn’t going to give her the chance.

  He clambered over the bed to cut her off. He hopped to the ground and stepped toward her, stalked her. She would not look at his body. She would not notice his muscular arms and toned abs. Nor would she notice the way his boxers revealed waaay more than she needed to know.

  “You promised me the truth, Doc.”

  “Go to hell.” The bed against her legs stopped her retreat.

  He came right up to her, his chest brushing hers with their matched breaths. “Been there. Done that. Got a frickin’ t-shirt.”

  “Fine. I’ll tell you. But first I want something in return.”

  His lips formed a victorious grin. “What would that be?”

  “The truth.”

  He nodded.

  “Why do you care?”

  In the next heartbeat she was on her back, soft mattress against her spine, hard hot male on top of her. His breaths hit her face in puffs. He took her wrists and pinned her arms above her head, holding them there with one hand. With a single fingertip, he stroked over her cheekbone, over her cheek, down her nose, around her lips.

  She should be scared. Pissed. Violent. Not totally turned on.

  Every part of her blazed. Flames licked every inch of her skin. Her blood neared the boiling point. She burned. She needed.

  When his face came toward hers, she closed her eyes and held her breath. His lips brushed hers in a feather light stroke. “What do you feel for me, Doc?”

  She really shouldn’t tell him she’d fallen for him. She really shouldn’t. “I … care about you, X.”

  “Because you’re my doctor?”

  “Yes. No.” She clamped her eyes closed. Being so close to him scattered all hope of thought. She could get very used to having him on top of her. “You mean more to me than you should.”

  Xavier’s kiss surprised her. She gasped and inhaled his musky taste. She pulled at her arms, trying to tug them out of his hold, but he didn’t release her. In fact, he tightened his grip as he slipped his tongue into her mouth and deepened the kiss. She moaned. When his fingers teased her belly she thought she might burst into flames. Poof! She’d die a happy girl.

  His kisses moved from her lips to her collarbone. His fingers tickled over the bare skin of her stomach. She couldn’t take another second. She needed.

  “Please let me touch you,” she begged in a voice so wanton she didn’t recognize it.

  “I can’t.”

  Talk about a buzz kill. She wiggled against him. “What? Why?”

  He ignored her question and kept at his erotic assault. He ground himself into her body, showing her how much he wanted her. But it wasn’t enough. She wanted him to know she desired him, too.

  “Xavier, stop.”

  He did. Immediately. No questions asked. Yet.

  “I’m sorry.” He released her hands and eased off her, but didn’t completely break their contact. He plowed a hand through his hair, leaving furrows in the dark waves.

  She sat up, staring at him, watching his jerky movements and frustrated reactions. She waited, and waited, until he chanced a glance at her then she refused to let go of him. “What did you mean you can’t let me touch you?”

  He shook his head. His massive shoulders slumped a bit. He huffed out a breath and dropped down onto the bed next to her. Seconds ticked by in uncomfortable silence, the only sound their mixed nearly silent breathing. Finally he took her hand, cradling it between his big palms.

  “When it comes to women, I’m a mess. I’m not a manwhore because I like being with a different woman every night.” When she cringed he squeezed her hand. “I didn’t sleep with every one of them.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Even though it really, really did. The thought of all those women… She choked down the bile spearing up the back of her throat. “Tell me you’re careful.”

  “I’m careful.”

  Well, that was good. “Have you been tested?”

  “Every six months.”

  Oh, God! Instead of making her feel better, the revelation made her stomach tumble and roll like the orneriest ocean. She stared at their hands because she couldn’t chance having the disgust she felt show up on her face.

  “I don’t trust women, Doc. Never have. I’m not sure I—”

  “—ever can,” she finished for him.

  “Yeah.” He cradled her face in his palms. “It’s not you, Frankie, it’s me. That’s not some bullshit excuse to blow you off. It’s the truth.”

  Despite his dismissal, he leaned toward her. She willed herself to stay put. His kiss was gentle, almost as if he told her goodbye. She supposed that was exactly the way of it. Tears burned her eyes. She hadn’t expected this would be the way of it, but she knew it’d only be a matter of time before he hurt her. She guessed sooner was better than later.

  She pulled away from him, all but ran across the room and grabbed her tennis shoes before racing out the door. Thankfully she made it all the way to the elevator before she lost it.

  19

  Letting Frankie walk out the door had been the hardest thing he’d ever done. And that said a lot. He knew she may never come back. He knew damned well he’d blown any chance of ever being with her.

  He’d seen the disgust, the disappointment, the tears reflecting in her blue eyes. He hated himself for putting them there. Last night he’d realized it’d only be a matter of time before one of them got hurt. He never imagined it would take less than twelve hours. That right there solidified his status as a class-A asshole.

  She’d run away from him, grabbed her shoes and was out the door before the shell-shock wore off. When the door closed with a soft click, he’d had to fight to keep his ass planted on the bed. The sound jolted him harder than a sucker punch in the jaw.

  She’d walked away. And he’d let her.

  He shook his head then dropped it into his hands. His fingers plowed through his hair and he jerked them free. No wonder she’d run away. Hell, he couldn’t even stand to touch himself.

  His reputation with the ladies started young, and he’d refused to acknowledge his status as a virgin even when he was one. If the rumors were true, he’d never been one.

  His reputation with the ladies started young, and he’d refused to acknowledge his status as a virgin even when he was one. If the rumors were true, he’d always been experienced.

  Now, though, with Frankie in his life—or running like the hounds of hell howled in pursuit—he wanted a redo, a do-over, a clean slate. He wished he could go back and remove the countless women from his past, wished he could have waited for the one woman worth it all. He’d give anything to be able to go back and be the kind of man Frankie could love, the kind of man she could be proud to have on her arm.

  Christian, damn him, had been right. Frankie did deserve the best. In his arrogance, Xavier thought he could win her over with nothing more than sweet words and a smile.

  That’d been all it’d taken to win a woman before. Because he was an MVP, after all, a force to be reckoned with on the diamond and in the bedroom. The former still honored him, the latter made him sick to his stomach.

  He was going to lose her.

  Dammit!

  He didn’t want to lose her. He wanted forever with her. But he had no idea how the hell he would make that happen when he couldn’t even look her in the eye?

  He stood and headed into the bathroom. With the shower turned to its hottest setting, Xavier stripped then stepped under the spray. He wished he could use bleach and a scrub brush to get the stains of his past off of his skin. It should have occurred to him a woman might not consider his sexual experience and prowess a turn on. Every woman he’d ever been with loved the idea of being with him for a few hours of hot, nasty sex.

  But then Frankie wasn’t like any woman he’d ever known. She hadn’t said as much,
but he could read between the obvious lines. She didn’t want to be one of the many, she wanted to be the one and only.

  How could he have been so stupid?

  Whenever he saw her with another man, it annoyed him to the point of obsession. Why did he expect her to be any different?

  He scrubbed his body with the soap, twice, making sure every inch had been washed clean. He couldn’t change the past, but he could change the man he would be from here on out. His reflection hid nothing from his own knowing eyes. Misery shone clear as day in the set of his jaw, the shimmer in his hazels. He just prayed she didn’t plan on running all the way back to Vegas and out of his life forever.

  ***

  The elevator doors sealed her in with her agony. Grandiose dreams, she supposed, crushed tiny hopes. Xavier might not have been stupid, but she was. She’d thought she could look past the room key exchanges she’d seen with her own two eyes and the rumors floating around the locker room. But knowing he actually had so much sex he got tested every six months? Every six months?

  Her stomach tossed and the emptiness sped up her esophagus. The doors opened and she took off on a dead run, her hand clamped over her mouth to keep from spewing all over the pretty tile.

  Down a short hallway, around a corner and she raced through the solid door, pushing aside the flimsy metal one. She leaned over the toilet and let all her delusions out. She heaved and sobbed. Her abdomen clenched. Tears dripped into the toilet bowl in a steady clear stream. She’d really done it. She’d fallen in love with Xavier, only to have her heart broken by him.

  With absolutely nothing left in her stomach, she slipped to the side and slid down the tiled wall to rest on the floor. She should have been disgusted by the notion of sitting on a strange public restroom floor, but she couldn’t work up any emotions except the hurt eating her alive. Using the back of her hand, she swiped at the hair escaping her ponytail. She sniffed and hiccupped. And she was barefoot.