Love of the Game Page 25

  “Did he have chemotherapy, radiation?” Kasha was fully focused on him. Her exotic, dark-eyed gaze never left his face.

  “Yep. Full arsenal. Big guns. He was so sick, poor little guy. Whenever I was out there on the field I pitched my heart out. Pitched for an audience of one. My boy.”

  “How long did he live after the diagnosis?”

  Axel couldn’t answer at first. His throat was knotted up too tight. Kasha waited, didn’t push.

  “A little less than two years. My career was soaring, but I wanted to be with Dylan. The little guy insisted I keep playing. He told me he expected me to make it to the Yankees.”

  He paused, swallowed, remembering the worst days of his life. “That last summer I was on the road ripped me apart. Sometimes, he watched the game from his chair in the chemotherapy center. Every time I pitched I’d tap my thumb against my ring finger. A signal just for Dylan, to let him know I was thinking of him and pitching the game in his honor.”

  “Oh Axel.” Kasha clasped both hands to her heart. “Oh, you poor man. I can’t imagine how hard that must have been. Being away from him as he fought cancer.”

  “Dylan’s mother was a great mom. I worked so she could stay by his side 24/7. I worked for Dylan, to make him proud of his old man. But I also worked for me. Playing ball was the only way I stayed sane.”

  She reached over and squeezed his arm.

  “Fame and fortune means nothing when your kid is sick,” he said. “You’d give it all up in a heartbeat. Give up your own life to save theirs.”

  “Emma is beginning to show me that. She’s my sister, but I’m assuming a parental role. It’s epic.”

  “Epic is an understatement. Dylan was such a passionate kid. Before he got sick, you should have seen him. He was a much better ballplayer than I was at his age. He could have been one of the greats.”

  “You’re still trying to be great for him.”

  “Yeah.” Tears burned Axel’s eyes as he thought of his son. He pinched the bridge of his nose with the thumb and ring finger he’d once used to signal Dylan.

  “Then when he got sick, I told him I’d do it for him. Make it to the Yankees. Play in the World Series.”

  “That’s why this dream is so important to you,” Kasha murmured. “It’s not for the glory or the money. It’s Dylan’s legacy.”

  “Dumb, huh.” He tried to crack a smile, but didn’t quite pull it off, felt his mouth slip back down at the corners.

  “No. It’s the opposite of dumb. It’s brave and plucky and sad and glorious. You have to try. You don’t have any other choice.”

  She got it, and her understanding was a sublime gift. “Now you see why I was pushing myself so hard.”

  Her eyes darkened. “If I’d known about Dylan, I might have recommended you get the surgery.”

  “Really?” Axel pulled his chin back, studied her.

  She shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

  “I’m glad I didn’t have the surgery. Your way is working and I’m grateful to you.”

  “What about Dylan’s mother?” Kasha asked. “Were you guys ever married?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “Pepper was a baseball groupie. A casual fling. She was a cool girl, but we were too young and we weren’t in love with each other, but we both loved Dylan. We had an unusual custody arrangement. Dylan lived with Pepper during baseball season, I had him the rest of the year. And we had unrestricted visitation. Might not work for most people, but it suited us.”

  “Where is she now?”

  “I don’t know. We lost track of each other after Dylan died. No reason to stay in contact.”

  “Have you ever been in love before?” she asked.

  He met her eyes, locked on to her gaze. “No. Have you?”

  Her bottom lip was trembling. “No.”

  His heart thumped, gut twisted. She had never been in love.

  “Not,” she whispered, “until you.”

  Axel sat up straight, leaned toward her. “What did you say?”

  “You heard me.”

  “Tell me again, oh woman of few words. A man needs to hear these things.”

  She met his stare head-on. “I love you, Axel.”

  Pure joy spurted through his bloodstream. He jumped up from the table, pulled her into his arms. “Aw, Sphinx. I know how hard it was for you to say it.”

  “Come,” she said, taking his bed. “I’m better at showing than telling. Let’s go back to bed.”

  “What about the food?” He looked down at their uneaten plates.

  “Right now, I don’t think either one of us cares about cold omelets.”

  He laughed then because his heart was full—full of joy, full of happiness, full of love for this wonderful woman.

  She led him upstairs, and this time the mood was soft and quiet and somber, and their joining was all the sweeter for it. The playfulness of their first joining was washed away by the sorrow of midnight confessions.

  But once they were back inside the bedroom, he pulled her to him, cupping each breast in his palms over the layer of his cotton T-shirt that she wore. She pressed against his touch, made a soft, whimpering sound.

  He touched her everywhere—belly, hips, back, butt—lingering in each spot for a moment, not taking his eyes off her dear face.

  He smoothed his hands down her sides, his palms curving in at her waist, flaring out at her hips. She swayed against him, and his nose filled with the smell of soap and womanhood. When he dropped to his knees and planted a kiss at the smooth skin between her thighs, she moaned and tangled her fingers in his hair.

  She was so beautiful. He loved everything about her. Touching her became as important as breathing. He kissed her between her legs. Short, hot kisses. “I love the taste of you,” he whispered.

  His fingers slipped around to buttocks taut and lean from regular yoga. “I love the feel of your strong muscles.”

  The need for her was primal. Something wild inside them both that called to each other, and each other alone. Whenever heaven had made her, they threw away the mold. She was unlike any woman he’d ever met.

  “I love your wounds.” He kissed the line of silvered scars. “I love everything about you, Kasha. Good and bad and in between. I love every nook and cranny, every curve and angle.”

  He was half drunk with desire for her, anxious to slip his tongue inside her warmness. He picked her up and laid her on the bed so she would be more comfortable, and climbed up onto the mattress beside her to finish what he started, using his mouth to pleasure her in the best way he knew how.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, just like that.”

  He thrust his tongue inside her and she tightened around him, her soft purr of satisfaction driving him on. All he wanted to do was make her happy.

  She wriggled and squirmed and he loved that he was the one doing this to her, enjoying her body as it heated up.

  “That’s right,” he coaxed. “Relax. Let yourself go.”

  He stayed with her, kissing and stroking, licking and touching, until he felt her body stiffen and she gasped “oh” high and sweet.

  And a tremor that started in her core spread out, shaking up her spine in both directions at once.

  As she lay quaking, helpless, he kissed his way back up to her breasts, kissed tenderly while he reached over with one hand to find a condom on the bedside table. He was accomplished at such maneuvers, and quickly had it opened and on.

  And then they were joined in mindless pleasure as he slid inside her, pushing her to trembling heights. Pleasure built. Friction. Heat. Pressure. He groaned, called her name, spread his fingers through that mass of long, dark hair.

  She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper inside her.

  Heaven on earth. She was heaven right here in his bed. He claimed her lips as he moved inside her, slowing the pace to stretch things out. He didn’t want it to ever end.

  She surrounded him. Her heat. Her skin. Her scent. Her muscles.


  When they came it was together, big and loud and sweaty. He loved it. He loved her.

  He flopped over onto his stomach on his side of the bed, breathing hard, exhausted. She sat up, gave him a smug smile, her perky breasts standing at attention. He reached up a hand, touched her mouth. “I love it when you smile.”

  She plumped up the pillows and lay back against them, looking down at him stretched out on his belly. “Worn out already?”

  “Why is it that women are jazzed after sex and all men want to do is sleep?” he mumbled.

  “Because a man’s essence is drained while a woman is filled up.”

  “Hmm,” he said. “I never thought of it that way.”

  “That was fun,” she said. “Can we do it again?”

  “While I appreciate your enthusiasm, I’m not as young as I used to be. Can you give me a few minutes to recover?”

  “Oh, sure,” she said. “Take your time.”

  “You’re just going to lie there and watch me rest?”

  “If I had known sex would get you to relax I would have suggested it a long time ago.” She grinned.

  His face was pressed against the mattress so he was seeing her with only one eye. He studied the scars cut like fringe across the tops of her upper thighs. Reaching out, he ran a finger over the deepest one. “That must have hurt.”

  “Hurting was the point,” she said. “I felt so numb inside, and cutting made me feel alive.”

  He leaned over to kiss her scars. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to save you.”

  “It’s okay. The Carlyles saved me, and then I saved myself with yoga.”

  “You are so strong.” He looked at her with so much admiration he couldn’t begin to express how he felt.

  “Maybe,” she said, “in some ways, but weak in others. Keeping my heart closed off was a failing. I realize that now. Emma was the crack that opened the door, but you …”

  “What about me?” he asked, caressing her nipple with a fingertip.

  “You were the dynamite that blew my heart wide open.”

  CHAPTER 24

  It was near dawn when Kasha woke. She lay in bed, listening to the deep sounds of Axel’s masculine breathing. He rolled over, mumbled, reached for her. Was he awake?

  “Axel?” She breathed.

  His arm went around her waist, and he dragged her over, spooned his body against hers.

  “Axel?” she whispered again, her heart floating like a butterfly. Love. She was in love with this man and thrillingly scared that she’d admitted it. “Are you sleeping?”

  He didn’t answer.

  She smiled into the darkness. Her nose was permeated with his incredible scent, and she realized how extraordinary this was. Wriggling her toes, she breathed in the moment, pulled it down to the bottom of her lungs, savoring every sweet second.

  “Surreal,” he murmured.

  “So you are awake.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “What’s surreal?” She wriggled against him, feeling girlish and carefree.

  “You. In my bed. Naked.”

  “Wasn’t that the goal?”

  “True.” He laughed. “But I thought it was a pipe dream.”

  “I should be the one who’s stunned and amazed. To think I’m in bed with the major league pitcher Axel Richmond. Now that’s many a woman’s pipe dream.”

  “But not yours.”

  “Well,” she admitted, “it wasn’t, until I got to know you, and then it wasn’t so much a dream as a nightmare.”

  “Nightmare?” He chuckled.

  “Not being in bed with you,” she amended. “That’s not the scary part.”

  “What is the scary part?” He walked his fingers up her bare arm.

  “The fact that when I’m with you I can’t control myself.”

  “No?” He tugged her closer, dragged her across the sheet and into his embrace. Pulled the covers over their heads. “What can I say? I’m irresistible.”

  “That’s what scares me. Your irresistibility.”

  “Why does that scare you?”

  “I can’t … won’t … compete with groupies.”

  “Sweetheart, there is no competition. You’re the clear winner. No one else can compare.”

  “Seriously? You expect me to believe that? I have morning breath and bed head and—”

  “You’ve never looked sexier.”

  She couldn’t see him very well, but she could certainly feel him, smell him. She kissed him.

  “Oh,” he said.

  She thought he was going to scoop her into his arms, and make love to her again, but instead he hopped out of bed and pulled on his pajama bottoms. “Stay right there. I’ll be back.”

  It felt a bit drafty, so she searched around for his paint-stained T-shirt and put it back on.

  In the past, her reserve had kept men at arm’s length, but that didn’t seem to bother Axel. He accepted her for who she was, and for that she was grateful. He was different from any man she’d ever met. She felt comfortable whenever she was around him. Able to let down her guard with him in a way she normally couldn’t with people.

  Be more her true self.

  That puzzled her. Until now, until Axel, she believed it was only possible to be her authentic self when she was alone.

  The door opened and in came Axel with two cups of coffee, looking utterly sexy with his scruffy jaw and bed head. He handed her a cup, kept one for himself, and crawled back in the bed beside her.

  “Let’s spend the day together,” he said.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be headed back to Dallas? Paul Hernandez is waiting for you.”

  “Oh yeah, that.” He sighed. “I don’t want to leave.”

  “I thought you’d be ready to get out of our one-horse town.”

  “Actually, I’ve grown fond of country living,” he said. “It’s nice. Quiet. Relaxing. Who knew I’d want those things?”

  “Me.”

  “You’re so smart,” he said, his voice shiny with admiration. “One of the many things I love about you.”

  Love.

  That word again. The word that started a tingle in her toes, and quickly spread up her legs to her pelvis and on to her heart, the word that ended up lodged in her head, leaving her dizzy and breathless with possibility.

  Love. Yes, she loved this man with all her heart and soul, but there was so much standing in their way. Emma. Dylan. Her past. His future. His dreams. Her dreams. Tugging them in opposite directions.

  “We’ll work it out,” he said, reading her mind. “I don’t know how yet, but it’s all going to be okay. You’ll see.”

  She looked at him, at her beloved.

  How she wanted to believe! So she pretended that she did. Just for a little while, because in this one splendid moment, everything was perfect.

  He took her coffee cup from her, set it on the bedside table beside his, hauled her into his arms, and made love to her all over again.

  Two hours later, they stood on the dock overlooking the lake, the morning sun halfway up the sky, heating things up. Axel’s bags were packed—Kasha had helped him—and loaded in his car. He’d drive her back to the yoga studio to pick up her car, but this was their official good-bye.

  He’d suggested the walk to the dock, and she happily agreed, sinking her palm into his when he held out his hand. Interlacing their fingers. A solid hand-holding.

  Aboard.

  She was aboard.

  Axel’s heart swelled until it seemed to fill his whole chest, crowding out his lungs, making it hard to breathe.

  Kasha inhaled deeply, gazed out across the water, a small I-can’t-believe-this-is-happening smile hovering at her lips. He couldn’t quite believe it either. Love. He was head over heels in love with the most magnificent woman in the world.

  Axel reached for her other hand, turned her toward him. Face-to-face.

  Her eyes met his. Eyes misted with tears.

  It startled him. He’d never seen her tear up. Not e
ven when she told him the truth about her parents. Immediately, he drew her into his arms, his instincts telling him to comfort and protect at all cost.

  He loved her with every cell in his body.

  She was his woman, and he was her man.

  “Are you all right?” he whispered.

  “Never better.” A single tear rolled down the outside of her cheek.

  He kissed it away.

  She laughed, a beautiful sound that lifted his soul. She cupped the side of his face with her palm. “You have to go. The Gunslingers are expecting you.”

  “A few more minutes won’t kill them.”

  “They’re going to be so surprised at how much you’ve healed.” She touched his shoulder. “The progress you’ve made is astounding.”

  “All because of you,” he said, laying credit where it belonged. He’d tried for weeks to rehab on his own, pushing, striving, grasping, when the key was to step back, relax, and let go.

  The key Kasha had given him.

  “I’m so proud of you,” she said. “You’ve come so far in such a short time. You faced your fears and the beliefs that had been holding you back. That takes guts, Axel.”

  The way she said his name, full of pride and delight, lifted him up to rarefied heights.

  “All because of you, babe.” He tightened his grip on her. “All because of you.”

  “No, you were willing to make changes. I can’t give you that. Only you could make the choice to change.”

  “I’m not the only one who’s been on a journey.” He cupped the back of her head in his palm, smelled sunshine on her skin, and stared intently into her inquisitive brown eyes. “You’ve changed too. You’re more open, trusting …”

  “What can I say?” Her smile widened. “Hurricane Axel blew into my life and turned everything upside down.”

  He couldn’t hold her smile. It was too bright, and he had to leave. “I wish I could stay. Wish you could continue to be my therapist.”

  “I can’t. We crossed a line.”

  “It was worth it,” he said. “Much as I’m going to miss seeing you every day, this was worth it. You were worth it.”

  She nodded.

  “I can come back this weekend,” he said.

  “No. I’ll have Emma. We need time alone together, just the two of us, to really get to know each other.”