Strike (Sphere of Irony 2)

I stare at my hands, so not wanting to discuss Dax or my private life with my coach.

“Kate,” he says in a softer tone. “What is going on? Are you in trouble or something?”

My head snaps up to meet his concerned face, his dark eyes shining transparently with his desire to help.

“I’m not in trouble, Coach.”

He sighs, sitting back in his chair, which emits a loud squeak as it bears more of his weight. “You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

I shake my head, my eyes filling with tears.

“Alright. But I can’t have reporters accosting my players. If you need something, ask.”

“Right, Coach.”

“I’ll walk you out the back to make sure there’s no one there waiting for you.” He stands up and joins me on the other side of his desk. Coach Russo isn’t a large man, just an inch or so taller than me. His skin is a dark olive and his hair jet black and curly, giving away his Italian heritage almost as much as his last name.

“Thanks,” I whisper, my voice cracking.

He nods, opening the door to his office so I can exit first. We walk to the back of the building in silence and I relax my tense muscles when I see that the only people outside are a few members of the track and field team, warming up for practice.

“It’s clear. Go home, rest, and remember, Kate, you can talk to me about anything. You girls are my responsibility.” His dark eyes shine with concern.

“Yeah, thanks Coach.”

I hurry back to my flat to call Dax. When I get there, I find over thirty messages on the answering machine. After playing the first two and realizing they’re all from nosy reporters, I delete the rest without listening.

Sitting on my bed, a bed Dax and I have made love in countless times, I wonder how long this thing with him can possibly last. Dax and the other guys are becoming more and more famous every day. Their first album is a huge success, debuting at number thirty on the Billboard list. As the tour progressed and singles were released, it now rests comfortably in the top ten.

Tired and still freaked out by the incident on campus, I kick off my shoes and lay back, arranging my pillow beneath my head. Without thinking, I turn and inhale the other pillow, the one Dax uses when he stays over. His scent is long gone, having been six weeks since he was last here.

Depressed, I close my eyes, willing the rock that’s sitting in my stomach to go away. I must fall asleep, because the next thing I know, someone is dragging a hand down my cheek. My eyes fly open and my heart begins to pound.

“Dax!”

He gives me a crooked grin, yet his eyes look wary, as if he’s waiting for me to scream or yell at him. I fling myself at him, wrapping my arms around his broad shoulders and tucking my face against his neck.

“You scared me half to death!”

His large arms surround me, squeezing me into his chest.

“Sorry angel. You didn’t answer the door, so I let myself in,” he whispers into my hair. I gave him a key a while back so he could come over after a late gig or recording session and not bother Abby.

“I missed you so much.” I try not to choke up or cry. I don’t want to ruin this moment with my tales of horror with the media.

“Me too, angel. Me too.” Dax leans back, cupping my face in his hands. Despite his determination to keep everything shuttered up behind a strong front, he seems on the verge of breaking down as well. I’m about to ask what’s wrong when his mouth crushes against mine and all rational thoughts fly right out of my mind.

Dax

I didn’t realize how worried I was that Kate would never talk to me again until I had her in my arms, my tongue sweeping into her mouth for that familiar taste. After six weeks of tense phone calls and moments where I thought she’d get sick of the bullshit with Lila and the other photos and chuck me for good, I’ve got my girl where she belongs. With me.

Mine. I won’t let Lila or any of my shit hurt her.

Rule 5—Defend what’s yours.

The thought of losing Kate sends fear skittering down my spine. Desperation takes over and I push her back on the bed, covering her with my body as I devour her sweet mouth. In between moaning, sloppy kisses, and frantic pawing, we manage to strip off our clothes.

“Jesus, I missed this,” I groan into her mouth as our naked skin comes together. We grind against each other, reveling in the reconnection after time apart.