Out of Left Field (20 page)

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.

A shiver wriggled up her spine. Okay, so maybe she wasn’t as immune by the
eww!
factor as she’d thought. She gathered her shoes and socks and put them on.

She wished she would have thought to grab her cell phone. She needed to talk herself down. She needed Christian to talk her down. He would convince her she’d find her one and only. He might even volunteer for the job himself—again—and then they would both laugh themselves silly when she turned him down. Again.

The thought of Christian gave her the mental fortitude to get herself off the bathroom floor and out of the handicapped stall. She washed her hands, splashed her face with cold water, and dabbed it dry with a few paper towels. Purposely, she didn’t look in the mirror. She wasn’t a pretty crier. She didn’t have to see her reflection to know her eyes were red and puffy. Her entire face would be splotchy. And she knew the tip of her nose would be fuchsia.

She tugged at the rubber band holding her ponytail and shook her head. Digging her fingers into her head, she massaged her scalp. She flipped her head over and shook her hair before standing up and yanking it all back into a tight ponytail at the base of her neck.

Working out had never let her down before. She hoped this time would be no different. She exited the bathroom and followed the sign at the main corridor toward the gym.

Wouldn’t you know it? No punching bag. Just when Frankie needed to hit something desperately, there was nothing to actually hit. She guessed she could go back up to the room and beat the ever-livin’ snot out of Xavier. He deserved it.

“
Well, hello.” Frankie recognized the deep, slightly nasally voice of Bradley Matthews.

“
Hi.” She climbed up on the treadmill and hit the start button. The tread moved and so did her feet.

He moved to the stationary bike, putting her in his direct line of sight and she shuddered a bit. She bought the best sports bra money could buy, but no matter how tightly it held her in place, she still jiggled. By the way he licked his lips, he’d been counting on it.

“
So, why you here all alone?” He already huffed and puffed. She hoped the guy didn’t keel over because she’d seriously consider letting him die before offering mouth-to-mouth.

“
I run every morning.” Okay, so not every morning, but … yeah, whatever.

His lecherous eyes ran over her body. “I like a woman who’s in shape. Maybe you and I could—”

“
If you finish that statement, I’m going to have to tell Xavier.” Just like she’d hoped, the color drained from his face. She didn’t let the threat drop. “And then he would have to kick your ass for even suggesting it.”

Oh, how she wished it were true.

Another round of tears burned her eyes. She clamped them closed and increased her speed on the treadmill. Her feet pounded, as did her heart. If she showed weakness to this asshole, she’d never forgive herself. Dealing with assholes was nothing new. She’d dealt with Xavier head-to-head for the last few months and survived. For the most part.

She could do this. She sucked in a deep breath and blew it out through rounded lips. She opened her eyes and glared at Bradley. Not that he noticed with his eyeballs glued to her chest. She whistled. “Up here, Dick.”

His slow lazy gaze found her face. He smiled. “I’m Bradley.”

“
I know.” She flashed a smile of her own. “If you’re going to sit there and ogle my girls, the least you could do is pretend you’re not.”

His eyes just about bugged right out of his head. Color flooded up in neck, filling his cheeks, continuing until it disappeared under his hairline. “You’re a fiery one.”