by Cari Quinn
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.”
Chapter Eighteen
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 squeezed 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!
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 u
ntil 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 for 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.
