by Jewel E. Ann
She showered and packed. Almost an hour later she swallowed her pride, which was virtually non-existent by that point, and headed downstairs. The soft voices faded into silence as she rounded the corner.
Luke and his parents were sitting at the table with coffee mugs and kind smiles.
“Good morning,” Felicity shot Jessica a quick wink.
“Hi. Sorry I overslept. Kinda rude on my part.”
“Not at all. It’s the weekend and you worked your butt off yesterday.” Tom nodded to the empty chair by Luke. “Have a seat, we’ll get you some breakfast. Coffee?”
Jessica nodded. “Thank you.” For the first time that morning, she allowed herself to look at Luke.
“Good morning,” he said without a single inflection in his voice or the slightest clue on his face that the previous night ever happened. “I think we should head out after you eat. I have a few things to attend to when I get back.”
“Yeah, sure.” She smiled, letting her eyes linger on him as she sat down.
She ate while Luke and his parents talked about the renovation, his siblings, and other random topics. The hey-so-you-two-almost-had-sex-last-night topic never came up. She couldn’t keep her eyes off him. Had she dreamed it? How could he not give her the tiniest hint of acknowledgment?
“I’ll grab our bags.” Luke deposited his coffee cup in the sink as Jessica finished the last bite of her omelet.
“I packed some goodies for you two to take on the road.” Felicity held up a bag.
“Thanks, Mom.” Luke took it from her and kissed her on the cheek.
When he took the bags out to the car, Felicity drew Jessica in for a hug. “He adores you.”
Adore. It was an interesting word choice. Could Dr. Mind Fuck adore her? Unlikely.
“Thank you for everything.”
“You’re welcome. I hope you come back.”
Another unlikely.
“The sailboat offer still stands.” Tom lifted his coffee cup toward Jessica and grinned.
“Absolutely.” She smiled past the lie.
They pulled out of the drive with his parents waving at the front door. Jessica waited for Luke to speak as the GTO tore down the paved road. When the silence became too torturous, she broke it.
“About last night …”
“Yeah, there’s nothing to say. It was an error on my part. I apologize.”
It felt like a knife being lodged into her stomach. How could he say that? If almost having sex was an error, she hated to think of what having sex would have been in his mind. Then there was the whole professing her love to him.
“I wanted to make you bleed as much as I didn’t want to make you bleed.”
“I know.” He kept his focus on the road.
“I can’t remember the last time I didn’t want to make a man bleed. It felt like progress in a very painful way.”
He nodded. One. Cold. Single. Nod.
Jessica wasn’t in the mood to beg. Groveling was a pathetic behavior she saved for extreme circumstances. She tipped her head back and enjoyed the best part of the trip—the cherry red GTO.
Luke wasn’t kidding when he said there was nothing to say. Neither one spoke a solitary word the rest of the way back to San Francisco. She unfastened her seat belt before the car came to a complete stop in front of her place.
“See ya around.” She jumped out and waited with her arms crossed over her chest as Luke retrieved her bag.
“Jess—”
She snatched the bag from him. “No … don’t start now. If there was nothing to say three hours ago, there’s even less to say now.” Taking the stairs two at a time she fled to the safety of her home.
Jessica slammed the front door shut and waited. Waited, of course, for Luke to knock on it because she was certain he would … but he never did.
*
A sleepless night expedited the delivery of Monday. Jessica worked until noon, grabbed lunch, and made a quick dash across town to take another test. Some days her quest to become an actuary seemed insane, and the Monday after the Jones’ weekend qualified as one of those days.
Exiting the building, brain exhausted, she checked her phone, coming to an abrupt halt which earned her a few expletives from the person who bumped into her back.
Jones: My place, 7:00.
Jessica: No thank you.
There was a less than zero percent chance of her showing up at his place that night. She got her laps in at the pool and met with Jude to spar for an hour before grabbing dinner on her way home. Climbing the stairs to her apartment, she glanced at her watch: 8:15. A deviant smile tugged at her lips. OCD Jones was getting a taste of his own bitter medicine.
“Good evening.”
Jessica looked up as she reached the top of the stairs.
“Mind telling me what you’re doing?” She fished out her keys.
Luke stood by her door, ankles crossed, smug bastard mask in its usual place, and a bag slung over his shoulder. “I wanted to apologize again about the other night.”
She turned the key and shoved the door open like she wanted to shove him down the stairs. “Oh for the love of sex-deprived women everywhere, please don’t.”
The door shut behind him. “I was out of line.”
Jessica whipped around. “Yes, you were out of line for pretending that nothing happened. You were out of line for sitting in the driver’s seat the whole way home acting like a freaking iceberg. And you were especially out of line…” she narrowed her eyes as her chin jutted out “…for not letting me drive your car.”
“I—”
“No…” she shook her head “…I’m not done.”
Luke closed his mouth.
“But if you try to tell me you were out of line for what happened or almost happened in the shower, then I’ll count to five and you’d better get your ass going otherwise you won’t be leaving in one piece.”
His brows peaked while humor twisted his lips. “Are you done?”
She huffed, nodding to the black duffel bag. “What’s in the bag?”
“You’ll see, but only if you trust me.”
Jessica grabbed the sandwich from her bag and unwrapped it, attacking it like a shark. “I shouldn’t … but I do,” she mumbled over the massive bite. Wiping the corners of her mouth, she swallowed. “I just don’t trust myself.”
“That was the reason for my apology. I want you to trust yourself with me—not for me, for you.”
“That’s funny, coming from the guy who threatened me with a muzzle and straitjacket.”
Luke shrugged as he dropped the bag on the floor with a thump and a rattle. “I also said there was a less than zero percent chance of us having sex.”
Jessica stared at the bag. “We didn’t have sex.”
Luke moved closer with the calculated moves of a predator. “But we kissed,” his gaze locked on hers holding it hostage.
“So,” she whispered.
He ducked to her neck and teased his lips along her skin, landing on her ear. “So, a kiss is an RSVP to your vagina that says: I. Will. Be. There.”
The sandwich in her hands fell to the ground as her heart stopped and all the air evaporated from her lungs.
“Close your eyes.”
Jessica blinked. It was the only part of her body that could move.
“I said … Close. Your. Eyes.”
She did and he kissed her cheek. “Good girl. Now don’t open them until I say.”
She nodded. “I don’t like surprises.”
“It’s not a surprise.”
“Then why do I have to keep my eyes closed?” She shivered feeling his nearness again.
“It’s therapy.”
“Are you going to hypnotize me?”
“No.”
“Have you done this before?”
“No.”
“Have any of your fellow shrinks?”
He chuckled. “I highly doubt it.”
“Then how do you know it will work?”
/> “Shh … we’re done talking.” He kissed her the same way he had before—patient yet commanding, never letting her take more until he was ready to give it.
She gasped for air when he released her mouth. He brushed his thumb over her breast, pebbling her nipple beneath the thin material of her dress and lace bra. Then his hand slid lower. She reached for him.
He tsked her several times. “You can touch anything … but me.”
“Luke,” she pleaded, squeezing her eyes shut even tighter while balling her fists at her sides. “I can’t do this.”
His hand slid between her legs and her breath caught in her chest as her nails made claim to her palms.
“Do you want me here?” He massaged her clit over the cotton skirt of her dress.
She jerked her hips toward him. “Y-yes.”
“What will you sacrifice to have me here?” He continued with firm small circles.
“Any-anything,” she breathed as her hips circled with his touch.
He kissed her again, easing her hands behind her back. She tensed a bit until his tongue dove deeper making her moan. He broke the kiss, leaving her feeling weak and dizzy. His tongue trailed down her neck.
“I want to taste you here.” His thumb brushed over her nipple.
“Yes …” she breathed.
“Then I want to taste you here.” He pressed harder against her clit until she whimpered.
“Luke … please …” Her hands clawed at his shirt.
He grabbed them, pushing them behind her back. They stared at each other—her breathless and fighting fear, him focused and taunting.
“Call me when you’re ready.” He pressed a soft kiss to her cheek before he released her wrists and walked out the door.
Once again, her mind was thoroughly fucked. That wasn’t the part of her body she’d hoped would feel thoroughly fucked when he left. If anything, yes, and please didn’t say she was ready, then what would?
Homing in on the black bag he left behind, she squatted down and unzipped it. “What the hell, Jones!”
Chapter Thirty
Knight
It rained for four hours straight when Jillian and AJ left his parents’ house in the truck. She was surprised that AJ let her drive, but after he slept for the first three hours it was obvious what a physical toll his migraine had been on his body.
“Hungry?” he asked as they stopped for gas and to switch drivers.
“Yes. You fill up and I’ll grab some grub.”
AJ nodded as he got out. Jillian used the bathroom and bought a variety of junk food. Climbing in the passenger seat, she handed him the bag.
“For Chrissake, you call this shit food?” He tossed the bag in her lap and started the truck.
“Uh … it’s a gas station not a farmer’s market.” She looked in the bag. “Peanuts?”
“Too much fucking salt.”
She mouthed a silent okay. “Twizzlers or M&Ms?”
“If I want to be a diabetic by the time we reach the next state.”
Jillian sighed. “Water?” She held up a bottle.
“You paid for bottled tap water?”
She gritted her teeth. “No … I paid for the bottle since we’re not camels.”
AJ shook his head, murmuring something indecipherable.
“Well, then you’re out of luck, buddy. Because all I have left to offer is a sack of suck your own nuts and a spray can of fuck off.”
Keeping out a bottle of water, she tossed the bag into the backseat, then she Googled PTSD on her phone. Her instinct was to beat the crap out of him, but he was driving so that seemed like a suicide mission. Instead, the confines of the truck held her captive to his abuse for the next several hours until they reached their hotel.
If there was a record for most car trips taken, least words spoken, then the Day/Knight duality that encompassed Jillian held the record. What was it with the ride home after meeting a guy’s parents for the first time?
They parked the truck for the night and checked in at the front desk of the hotel.
“Reservation for Monaghan.”
The lady behind the counter glanced at the computer screen. “Yes. Two double beds?”
“Actually. We’re going to need another room,” Jillian smiled at the lady.
“No, we don’t,” AJ growled.
“Yes, we do.” Jillian handed her a credit card.
The lady’s eyes volleyed between them as she took the card with hesitation. After a few moments of Jillian refusing to acknowledge his crabby scowl, he huffed off toward the elevators. The tension coiled between them as the elevator made its accent to their rooms on the fifth floor. AJ could have pissed all over Jillian, the lobby floor, and the mirrored walls of the elevator and she still wouldn’t have given him the satisfaction of a single quick glance.
She shot out ahead of him the second the elevator doors opened, dragging her suitcase like a hostage behind her.
“Stop!” He grabbed her arm and swung her around.
Her eyes shot to his hand. “Let. Go. Of. Me. Now.”
He released her, but the anger that rippled his muscles and burned in his eyes remained. “I warned you.”
Jillian felt her own jaw tick as she envisioned him bleeding. “Good night,” she said with a stiff voice. Drawing in a quick breath, she turned. AJ out of control was enough. One of them had to keep it together. His game was to draw a reaction from her, maybe to lessen the burden of guilt. She refused to play it as her brain chanted: walk away, walk away.
She slipped the keycard in the door and hurried inside. The door slammed, but not shut—it slammed open against the wall before she made it halfway inside.
She closed her eyes for a brief moment then turned. The man before her looked like AJ, but the vacant look in his eyes and hardened features of his face were those of a complete stranger.
“I don’t recognize you right now, therefore my natural instinct for self-preservation will kick in and you’ll be taken out of this hotel on a gurney.”
The wrathful smirk he tossed her would have made anyone else cower.
“Go to bed.”
His eyes narrowed. “Don’t tell me what to do. I’m not afraid of you. I’ve looked fucking psychopaths in the eye and not blinked. You and me…” he tipped his chin “…let’s see who’s left standing.”
“You hate yourself right now, don’t you?”
“Stop…” He shook his head.
“Are the voices in your head fighting? Do you want to tell them to just shut up?”
“Don’t act like you know how I’m feeling,” he seethed, taking a step closer.
Jillian stayed rooted to her spot. “You want to hit me right now, don’t you? But not for the same reason I’ve made you bleed; you want it because the messed-up person inside your head is pissed that you ever let me make you bleed. For God’s sake, you let a woman break your nose. Senior Master Sergeant let a little woman break his nose.”
He balled his fists and clenched his jaw, taking yet another step.
“So here’s how I see it. You can tell that voice to fuck off and kiss me because even after that ridiculous episode in the truck … I’m still here. Or, you can hit me and I’ll even let you draw first blood.” Jillian held up her index finger. “But that’s all you’ll get. One. Shot.”
It was a risk that could have gone either way. Jillian once had Luke to teach her mind-body control and it was a conscious battle she fought everyday of her life. But AJ had nobody so Jillian would be that somebody even if it left a mark … which it did.
The blinding pain was bearable—just—and the blood was minimal as she tasted the familiar metallic tinge that pooled on her lip. She hid her smirk. Jackson treated her as an equal when they sparred. Backhanding was something men with small dicks and overinflated egos did to women they wanted to control. She expected more from someone with AJ’s experience and dick size.
“Fuck!” he yelled, holding his fisted hands to his head.
S
he didn’t touch him. She didn’t have to. The sacrifice was for the impact and with one slap, it was done. Her heart broke for him as realization pooled in his eyes. Nothing bled quite like regret.
“Oh, God … I-I’m sorry.” He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head.
“Good night, AJ.” Jillian kept each word steady like walking across a tightrope.
His Adam’s apple bobbed as if he was choking on something. Pride? Turning, his shoulders curved in as he drudged through his self-made pit of misery to the door.
“Aric James.”
He glanced back over his shoulder.
She dabbed the blood at her lip. “I forgive you.”
AJ winced as if forgiveness was a burden—sometimes it was.
*
AJ wrung his hands together as he sat on the edge of the bed, feeling nauseous, dizzy, and plagued with shame and regret. Never in his life had he hit a woman. He despised the PTSD label. It was an excuse and he didn’t want an excuse. There was no excuse for the razor edge to his words or the lash of his hand against Jillian’s face. Who the fuck was that person?
Why would she offer to let him hit her? Why would she forgive him? Why would she stay? The questions were infinite and the answers were enigmatic. He’d caused pain to the one person who took his away. Glancing at his watch he thought of two skipped meals and Jillian’s petite body that couldn’t keep fat on it for anything.
Twenty minutes later he knocked on her door, holding the biggest bouquet of flowers he could find in a ten mile radius. It was pathetic and an ocean short of the grand apology she deserved, but it’s all he had at the time.
She opened the door, her face stone … her lip swollen. The dagger of regret twisted. Without a second thought he fell to his knees. Jillian had said she’d bring him to his knees and for the second time that’s where he landed.
“The flowers are overkill for a slap on the cheek.” Jillian rolled her eyes. “And get up off your knees unless you’re proposing, in which case the answer is no.” She grabbed the flowers.