by Jewel E. Ann
Luke grabbed the box, leaving Jessica on the bed with just a lone piece of pizza in her hand. “Out. Now.”
“Don’t have sex with her.”
“Once again…” he gritted his teeth “…none of your concern.”
She scooted off the bed, wincing a bit as the friction irritated the raw skin on her legs that hadn’t had a chance to form scabs yet. Luke’s face mirrored her wince.
“You should be in bed, resting.” He spoke with a softer surrender to his voice.
Jessica slipped on her sandals. “What do you think I was just doing?” She set her half-eaten piece of pizza on the box in Luke’s hands. “Wash your sheets tomorrow. I don’t want to sit on your bed after she’s been in it.” She opened the door.
“It’s just a date.” Luke sighed. “Here, don’t forget your pizza.”
Jessica frowned. “I’ve lost my appetite.”
*
Dr. Luke Jones had a remarkable ability to focus even in the midst of chaos. He could dissect a problem, analyze it, mend it, and put it back together. Then he could walk away and forget about it. This is … until Jessica Day landed in his office.
“Go away!” Jessica yelled at Luke’s incessant knocking on her door.
In spite of the agitation in her voice, he kept knocking. That night was not supposed to play out the way it did. He had a date. A sexy date. An unattached date. A willing date. He wasn’t supposed to be knocking on Jessica’s door. He was supposed to be indulging in meaningless sex.
She tore open the door with a killer’s wrath. “What?”
Luke flinched, but it wasn’t from her words. Jessica stood at the door in a sports bra and tight shorts, literal blood and sweat dripping from her body.
“What are you doing?” Luke stepped forward, struggling to hide a slip of uncharacteristic panic that tugged at his practiced and refined poker face.
“What does it look like, Einstein? I’m exercising.” She turned and grabbed a towel off the couch by the punching bag that hung from the ceiling behind it.
Luke took the towel from her and pressed it to the exposed stitches on her arm, a few that had been ripped back open, then he moved it to dab the smeared blood that ran down her legs. She hissed as he blotted her wounds. Her stomach muscles clenched. This wasn’t his fault and he knew it, but the finger of guilt still tsked at his conscience.
“You need help,” he whispered, more to himself than to her.
“Then help me,” she whispered back, confirming how far in over his head he’d become with her.
He stood and handed her the towel. “Why?”
“You said it yourself. I need help.”
“No, why did you do this to yourself?”
“I was just exercising.”
“Jessica …”
She turned and walked to the kitchen. “I had to burn off some energy and Jude’s out of town.”
“You’re bleeding.”
“I couldn’t feel it past the adrenaline.”
“There’s blood everywhere. Why did you do it?”
“I told you—”
“Tell me again. Where did you get all this energy since you left my house two hours ago?”
“Red Bull.”
“Jessica.”
She huffed. “You! Okay? You and fucking Ellie Lickey!”
“Ellie Liggett.”
“Whatever! I was pissed that you kicked me out so she could do all her slutty shit to you. Is that what you want to hear?” Jessica leaned against her kitchen counter, arms crossed over her chest, refusing to meet his eyes.
“You were jealous?”
Throwing her arms in the air, she groaned. “No! Really, could you be more full of yourself? I’m starting to feel less and less guilty about not paying you for your ‘expertise.’ I said I was pissed, not jealous. I trusted you … your judgement, but dipping your dick in San Francisco’s communal pussy shows complete lack of judgment on your part—”
“Jessica?”
“And now I’m going to have to find someone else and start this whole process over again.”
“Jessica?”
“And it’s going to be a woman!”
“I didn’t have sex with Ellie.”
“But-but she sucked your dick, didn’t she? God! She’s such a man-eater.”
Luke raised a lone brow.
She looked up at him. “Don’t give me that look. I’m not a man-eater. I may take a nibble here and there, but I have discriminating taste. Ellie’s just … gross!”
Luke laughed a little. “Gross? Like … icky or yucky?”
“So help me, Jones … if you’re making fun of me—”
“What? Are you going to bite me?” He knew his words were unprofessional and provoking. But with Jessica, Luke was caught in the crossfire between a man who desired her and a psychiatrist that needed to help her. The psychiatrist reminded the man every day that he could never have her. Most days the man listened, but some days he told the psychiatrist to go fuck himself.
She swallowed. “Why didn’t you have sex with her?” Jessica whispered.
Luke was drawn to her. His body detached from his mind as he moved toward her, pinning her against the counter with his hands on either side. “Because I have it on good authority that she … gets around.”
Jessica risked a glance at him. “I’ll help you find a nice girl.”
“You will?”
He could feel her heart pounding in her chest over and over as her breaths chased one another. Her proximity smothered his ability to think with any sort of clarity. He felt like a masochist in her presence.
“Yeah … I have one in mind.” She trapped her lower lip between her teeth, looking vulnerable without any resemblance to the Jessica Day he’d come to know.
“You do?” Luke’s gaze shifted from her face to her chest, then the rest of her body. She looked like hell, the way she did at the hospital, and maybe it was her vulnerability, but in Luke’s eyes all he could see was her beauty.
“I do. But she’s very particular and I can’t guarantee she’ll like you.”
Luke met her gaze again. “I can’t guarantee I’ll like her.”
“Oh, you’ll like her.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because she’s brilliant, and sexy, and athletic, and just … a real catch.” Jessica nodded with resolution.
“Well then I can’t wait to meet her.” He didn’t recognize the raspy voice that floated past his lips, lips that yearned to touch hers.
“You’re baiting me.”
He squinted. “Baiting you?”
She ducked under his arm and scurried to the opposite side of the kitchen. “Yes, baiting me with your intoxicating smell, and evil sapphire eyes, and perfect skin, and thick dark hair that’s been begging my hands to free it from its orderly confines.” Jessica planted her hands on her hips. “And you show up here flaunting all of your … your … hotness! I’m completely sex deprived and the thought of you with Lickey should repulse me, but it doesn’t! Because I’m SO. FUCKING. HORNY. The thought of you having sex, naked, with anyone, actually turns me on!”
Luke had an exorbitant vocabulary, yet not a single word in the English language came to mind. He felt like Kevin Bacon’s character in A Few Good Men after Lt. Kaffee got Jack Nicholson’s character to admit he ordered the Code Red. Eyes glazed. Mouth agape. Pulse barely detectable.
Jessica sighed on an eye roll. “I know what you’re thinking …”
Luke was impressed. He didn’t even know what he was thinking.
“You think I just need to get laid, and you’re right. But I’m trying so hard to not go all ‘Hannibal Lecter’ on anyone, so it’s not as easy as just an innocent fix-up. If I can’t have sex then I just need to … hit something and get rid of all these emotions that feel so … toxic.”
He stared at her for a few silent moments, dealing with his own inner turmoil. “We’re taking a field trip.”
“Excuse me?”
“If this is a lock-in at the Y—”
He walked past her to the door, stopping for a quick second to press his finger to her lips. “Shh, no more questions.”
She jokingly nipped at his finger. “Just one more.”
Luke sighed before opening the door. “One.”
“Is the chance of us having sex still less than zero percent?”
“Yes.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Knight
Jillian loaded the back of Woody with her plastic containers of sex toys. In a short amount of time she had become the top seller of Lascivio products in her region. She was three grand away from receiving a new car and the bachelorette party she had on her schedule that night was sure to push her past her goal.
No one was more excited than Jackson. He was tired of loaning out Woody so she could haul her products. Jackson looked like sin on her Harley—muscles, tattoos, the whole package. However, he wasn’t a bike guy. Women flocked to him in droves no matter what mode of transportation he used.
“What the hell are you wearing?” AJ’s gruff voice sounded behind Jillian as she loaded the last container.
She smirked, looking back over her shoulder. “You like?”
AJ looked around.
“Relax, the neighbors have seen me in a lot less than this.”
“You look like—”
“A whore?” Jillian shut the back hatch and turned. “You’re such a romantic. Any other woman would be offended by your crass assessment. Lucky for you I know you like it rough and this is just your way of flirting.”
“I didn’t call you a whore and it’s not my way of flirting. I want you to go change your clothes or put on some clothes.”
She laughed. “Cute … Me Tarzan you Jane. Yeah, nice try, big guy, but despite the rumors, I’m not really into roleplaying.
Jillian looked down at her red corset, tulle miniskirt, thigh highs, and stilettos. “I’ll slip on a trench coat for the ride, like Carin with a C.”
“I’m serious.” AJ stepped closer as if he thought he could intimidate her.
Jillian looked up at him, hands fisted on her hips. “Please tell me you see how laughable it is that you’re trying to order me around like one of your soldiers.”
“Jillian,” he growled.
“Don’t come home until you’ve secured that new car,” Jackson said as he walked out of the house and straddled Jillian’s Harley. “Woody’s starting to smell like those girly candles you sell.”
“You’re just going to let your sister leave looking like this?” AJ gave Jackson a pleading look.
Jackson started the Harley. “I told her it was a bad idea to screw our neighbor, and as you know, she didn’t listen to me. So … good luck!” Jackson smiled as he rolled out of the garage.
“Go. Change.”
Jillian rested her palms on his chest. “It’s a themed bachelorette party. I’m pretty sure I’ll fit right in with everyone else.”
Her words didn’t completely calm the beast, but AJ took a step back. “Didn’t you go to college? Isn’t there some other job you can get?”
“Kiss me, fool. I’m leaving.” Jillian grabbed his shirt and pulled him toward her.
“You’re killing me,” he grumbled.
She kissed him with an eager passion, opening her mouth to invite his tongue to dance with hers. When he released her lips she whispered, “But what better way to die?”
*
Jillian drove Woody home for the last time. Her Lascivio party far exceeded even her expectations. The next time she’d be packing her boxes into the back of her new candy apple red Mercedes. Mary Kay reps in their pink Cadillacs had nothing on her.
It was nearly eleven o’clock by the time she got home. Jackson was still gone so she deemed it a good time for a booty call. By the tenth knock she gave up. As she walked back down the drive AJ opened his door.
“Not tonight, Cage is here.” He squinted his eyes against the entry lights.
Jillian clicked back to his door in her stilettos. “You can’t stand there in your shorts with your abs looking like you just did a thousand crunches and that tattooed serpent around your strong, sexy calf begging to be licked—which is weird I know—but I’m not sure I’ve ever seen such sexy calves on a guy before … but anyway, you can’t say no.”
“Cage is out with friends but he’ll be home anytime now and I’m not ready to explain us.”
“He’s almost twenty-one. You’re single and I’m the neighborhood whore. I think he’d be shocked if you weren’t having sex with me.”
AJ frowned. “Don’t call yourself that.”
“Sorry, I didn’t realize that’s just your pet name for me.”
“Jillian … just … I can’t tonight. I need to talk to him first.”
“I’ll be quick.”
“Jillian …” AJ scrubbed his hands over his face.
“If you don’t let me in I’m stripping right here on your stoop.”
AJ gave her an annoyed looking smirk. “I know you’re crazy, but I don’t really think you’re certifiably insane. Good night.” AJ closed the door.
Clearly they each had their own definition of certifiably insane.
“If I get chewed up by bugs it’s going to be your fault,” she yelled.
*
AJ lumbered back to bed thinking about Jillian and how her evil temptress personality was twice as big as her little body. As he stared at the collage of shadows on his ceiling, he wondered what his chances were of getting back to sleep without jerking off first. That made two nearly naked women in one week that he’d turned away at his door.
Eventually he drifted back to sleep with his dignity intact, only to be awakened by Cage.
“Dad?”
“What?” AJ pulled the covers over his head to block the hall light.
“I just got home and …”
“Good to know. Good night, Son.”
“Uh … I think there’s a package for you at the front door … and she’s naked.”
“What the fuuu-dge are you talking about?” AJ threw off his covers and jumped out of bed at fire alarm speed, nearly tackling Cage to get past him and to the front door.
“Oh and, Dad?”
AJ turned before opening the door.
“I’m an adult now, so what the fuck I’m talking about is Jillian. She’s waiting for you naked and I’m not a genius but I think it’s like a one hundred percent chance of you getting laid. And yes, it grosses me out a little and I swear to God if I hear you doing it with her I’ll jab two sharp pencils into my ear drums, but I think you should invite her in for … whatever.” Cage grinned. “You have my permission.”
Stunned into a moment of silence, AJ watched Cage walk up the stairs. Reality was cruel. He couldn’t remember when his boy became a man and sometimes the reminders were less than settling.
“You could get arrested for—” AJ opened the door to an empty stoop. No Jillian. No pile of sexy lingerie. “Oh for Chrissake!” he murmured.
He stepped outside wearing only his shorts and looked to the heavens for an answer. “I’m sorry. Whatever I did to deserve her, I’m sorry. Just … take her back. She’s not the way I want to die.” His words were mumbled to anyone who would listen and while common sense told him to be thankful that she was gone, whatever was malfunctioning in his brain propelled his legs to her front door step.
The lights were off and it was going on midnight, but AJ wasn’t about to demonstrate social etiquette to someone who’d never heard of it.
“What’d she do now?” Jackson opened the door, covering his junk with a T-shirt.
AJ grimaced. “What is it with you two? This isn’t a fucking nudist colony.”
“Dude, I was in bed and you knocked on my door at midnight. You’re lucky I even grabbed th
is T-shirt.”
“Where is she?”
“In the bathroom. Help yourself … not that you’ve ever asked my permission.” Jackson turned giving AJ the full view of his naked, tattooed ass.
He had tattoos everywhere and there wasn’t enough curiosity in the world to tempt AJ into staring at Jackson’s naked ass as he walked to his bedroom. The door to Jillian’s bathroom was closed but he saw flicking light under it and heard music playing.
“Aaron Joshua …” Jillian said with a sultry voice as AJ opened the door. She was soaking in a bubble bath that AJ thought smelled like some sort of floral crap. A folded washcloth covered her eyes.
“Who the hell is Aaron Joshua?”
Jillian smiled. “Stab in the dark. I’ll let you join me if you tell me what AJ stands for.”
He shut the door and leaned back against it, arms crossed over his chest. “I’m clean, I already showered.”
She laughed from deep inside her belly while removing the washcloth from her eyes. “Come on, Andrew Jasper, surely you know my intentions are for us to get dirty … not clean.”
“Wrong again, and I’m not really into bubbles and candles.”
“Then why are you here, Anderson Jenkins? Because if you’re in the tub with me, people would think of you as one lucky bastard. But if you stand there and watch me, I think that classifies you as one sick bastard.”
AJ shook his head. “I’m not even sure why I’m here.”
“Sex? You can just say it. That’s why I knocked on your door earlier. But since I’ve been home I’ve given myself two moderately enjoyable orgasms, so at this point I can take it or leave it.”
AJ pushed his focus past his arousal that was growing more painful by the minute. “How old are you?”
“Thirty. How old are you?”
“How old do you think I am?”
“Forty-two, seven months, and thirteen days … give or take a few hours, minutes, and seconds.” She rested her leg on the edge of the tub and ran a loofa along it.
AJ shot her a blank stare, surprised by her lucky guess. Then he thought about the seven months and thirteen days. “How the hell do you know my birthday? And how the hell did you calculate it to the day so fast?”
Jillian grinned. “I’m psychic and good with math, Abraham Jerusalem?”