The Jack & Jill Series

by Ann, Jewel E

  Until …

  “Sex. Fine. I said it. We haven’t had it since the whole Fran thing. You’ve been wearing a full suit of armor to bed every night.”

  “A full suit of armor?” After hours of nothing but her side profile as she stared out the back window, because, yes, she was sitting in the back seat with Jones, Jessica relinquished a wide-eyed look in the rearview mirror at Luke. “Your definition of a full suit of armor is a tank top and panties?”

  Years of practiced patience and complete self-control had given Dr. Jones the reputation of having an unbreakable focus—until Jessica Day. She could bring Hercules to his knees with words alone.

  “Everything is relative, Jessica. So yes, going from masturbating in the nude on my bed to a tank top and panties, curled into fetal position with your eyes closed, would be equivalent to a full suit of armor.”

  With an easy nod, lips twisted, she turned back toward the window. “Interesting.”

  The steering wheel vibrated beneath his white-knuckled fists. His mother’s keen observation skills would have him under interrogation within minutes of arriving if he didn’t get things worked out in the next five minutes. No pressure.

  A mile from their house he down shifted and pulled to the side of the road. Amber eyes met his in the mirror again.

  “I’m going to let you drive the rest of the way.” As sure as her naked body distracted him, he knew his GTO would erase whatever grudge she’d been holding.

  Luke grinned as she opened the door, but it quickly faded when she hooked Jones’s leash to his collar. “What are you doing?”

  “Come, baby,” she said, leading Jones along the side of the road.

  “Jess … I’m letting you drive my GTO.”

  “Pfft…” she kept walking “…letting me drive down a road that won’t take it out of second gear is a fucking insult and you know it.”

  *

  Asshole. The good doctor didn’t want to be called Jones. Well Jessica decided he wasn’t worthy of the biblical name, Luke, either. Asshole seemed much more fitting as she walked the last mile to Felicity and Tom’s house. She really hadn’t been mad at him. Luke loved Fran at one time and she knew he loved too hard to just let all those feelings vanish. Four bottles of Heineken proved it. Jessica would never find complete closure while Matthew Green still drew air in his lungs, but Luke could find it with Fran.

  However, the humming idle of the GTO crawling behind them … that made her mad. The “full suit of armor” was a sign of respect, an understanding that Luke needed time to work through his feelings about the news of Fran. Sex was Jessica’s drug of choice to drown out painful emotions, but it had always been temporary. She didn’t want to be Luke’s drug, even if he was hers. If Dr. I-don’t-have-to-admit-I-have-human-emotions Jones wanted to psychoanalyze their sex life, then she had only two words: game on.

  “Jessica!” Felicity called from the front porch.

  Jessica held out her hand to block the setting sun. Jones bucked against his leash, going into his spastic mode. New people with high-pitched voices had him going berserk like a dog on speed. Her arm worked best in its socket so she released the leash about twenty yards from the porch and prayed Felicity was a dog person who didn’t mind the occasional tackle and a lick down equivalent to a carwash.

  “Jess?” Luke grabbed her arm before she reached the porch.

  She turned, ripping her arm from his grasp. “Asshole.”

  Luke sighed. A look of defeat stole his beautiful features. “Please don’t.”

  “Don’t what?”

  “Don’t do this in front of my parents.”

  “Why can’t we just be ourselves with your parents, huh? Why do we always need a plan or script?”

  “We don’t. I’m just saying—”

  “Good.” Jessica turned and marched to the porch. “Hi, Felicity.” They embraced.

  “Hi, honey. How’s my boy treating you?”

  “He’s whining about not getting enough sex and he’s jerking around my emotions for his car … but other than that, I can’t complain.”

  “Oh for God’s sake,” Luke mumbled, taking the last step to the porch.

  Felicity released Jessica then gave Luke a firm, motherly glare. “Sounds like his dad. When Tom had that car he never let me drive it. Not. Once. And don’t even get me started on the whole sex deprivation speech.”

  “My over-educated son should know better than to bring a bitter woman to spend the weekend with his mom.” Tom pushed open the screen door.

  Felicity turned, lifting onto her toes to give Tom a quick kiss. “You know I’m a peacemaker.”

  He hugged her. “Except when you’re stirring the pot.” Tom smacked her ass.

  Luke rolled his eyes, proving even grown children get embarrassed with their parents’ PDA.

  “We have two other couples staying this weekend, so I have you both in the purple room. That is … if you’re still okay sleeping in the same bed?”

  “We’re fine, Mom.” Luke slung both bags over his shoulder and grabbed Jessica’s hand, dragging her toward the stairs.

  “Dinner’s in an hour, lovebirds. So get your kissing and making up done before then. Tom will take Jones for a walk.”

  Jessica squeezed Luke’s hand so hard he grunted by the time they reached the purple room. Releasing both her and the bags, he shut the door. The pleading look of a truce or forgiveness he’d given her just moments earlier had been replaced with a look of rage. Other women would have cowered to such an intimidating glare, but not Jessica. It turned her on because truthfully she did need sex with Luke. She craved it more than food and some days more than air.

  “Take off your clothes, now.”

  A smirk played along her lips. She loved it when Luke went all alpha on her. Even she’d been shocked how much she loved submitting to him. Some days it felt like a need, a confirmation that he was the one person she could trust with every part of her being. He promised surrendering to him would give her the greatest sense of control. And he was right, but not on that particular day.

  When her clothes were nothing more than a pool of cotton on the floor, she stepped toward him, shoving him back on the bed. His eyes grew wide for a second before narrowing into dark pools of blue ink. He started to sit up as she straddled his legs.

  She shook her head, shoving him back again. “You know I love every inch of your hard, lean, muscled flesh. And your mind … God I love your mind. But you know what I’ve come to love most about you, Dr. Jones?”

  He swallowed hard as she positioned her knees on either side of his head.

  “Your mouth.”

  Luke dug his fingers into her hips, pulling her down to him.

  “Fuck,” she yelled as he parted her with one slow stroke of his tongue. Who was she kidding? It had been too long and she wasn’t going to last long with his greedy tongue spearing into her then lapping over her clitoris. The goal was to take what she needed then leave him. Desperate. Blue-balled. Angry.

  She was on top in a place of control, yet every ounce of it began to slip.

  “Pinch your nipples,” he said with each word vibrating against her hypersensitive sex that felt seconds from exploding.

  “No.” She shook her head. He wasn’t in charge, she was. Her terms. Her control. It was his lesson, not hers.

  He turned his head and bit the inside of her leg.

  “Ow!”

  “Pinch. Your. Fucking. Nipples.”

  Like a dog chasing a rabbit, all she could think about was the orgasm. It was so close yet just out of reach. He wasn’t going to win, but as a trade for the release she needed so desperately, she cupped her breasts, pinching her nipples. It felt good but not enough to push her over the edge.

  “Luke …” She couldn’t remember when his hands left her hips, but it didn’t matter. She lowered to his face again, but he just kept kissing and nipping at her inner thigh. “Luke …” Begging was not part of the plan. He would pay for making her beg—just
as soon as he put his mouth back where she needed it. One more slow lick and she’d be there.

  “Oh … fuck … fuck … fuck …” His eyes rolled back in his head.

  “What the …” she stilled, staring at him. Luke had the look, made the sound. Jessica looked over her shoulder.

  “You did not—”

  “Oh you bet your sexy ass I did. Now up you go.” He lifted her off him and sat up, wadding the front of his cum-covered shirt before pulling it over his head and tucking himself back into his jeans. “I’ll grab a clean shirt and give you a few minutes to … finish up.” He smirked while zipping his jeans.

  Jessica’s urge to make Luke bleed had been in remission until that moment. A broken nose and busted testicle seemed like the most fitting punishment.

  “Oh…” he stopped at the door after shrugging on a clean shirt “…you have my permission to tell my mom that you’re pissed at me because I wouldn’t let you ride my face to the finish.”

  “Asshole.”

  “I adore you too.” Luke shut the door.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Knight

  Lilith respected Jillian’s wish to not talk about AJ, yet she knew if—when—he died she’d know. Even if Lilith and Dodge didn’t say anything, Jillian knew Cage or AJ’s parents would contact her. Missing two men who were still alive felt like a knife continuing to carve at the empty cavity that once housed her heart.

  Luke. She imagined him with someone else by then, maybe even in love. He deserved that. The part of her that wanted that for him felt equally loving and masochistic.

  AJ. No news was good news, unless he suffered. Jillian couldn’t go there.

  Radiation.

  Seizures.

  Migraines.

  Memory loss.

  It was too much—until she received a text that crippled her emotions to the point of questioning her own will to survive.

  Sarge: Fly to Portland and rent a car. Then wait for my instructions. But DO NOT come to my parents’ house.

  “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Jackson said as he climbed the last step, flinging his sweaty towel over his shoulder.

  Jillian nodded, eyes fixed to her phone.

  “Shit. Not another message.”

  She shook her head slowly.

  “Then what?” He slipped her phone out from her hand. “No.” He handed it back to her then brushed past her to the kitchen.

  “I have to go,” she whispered, feeling dazed and maybe a little in shock.

  “No way. Need I remind you what happened the last time you made a trip to the West Coast?”

  “He needs me.”

  “So do I.” Jackson chugged back a glass of water.

  “Then come with me.”

  Jackson shook his head.

  “Because of Ryn?”

  “Because I have students, and a house, and a life here now. Because we’re not supposed to leave this state without notifying G.A.I.L, because—”

  “Because you’re in love.”

  “No.” He glared at her, continuing the adamant shake of his head.

  “I don’t blame you for staying for her, but don’t blame me for leaving for him.”

  “Not the same thing and you know—”

  “You’re right, it’s not! You’ve been here with Ryn and I’ve been a fucking miserable mess for weeks, but you wouldn’t know it because I’ve done what I do best—ignore the worst Goddamned hand of cards anyone has ever been dealt.” She sucked in a shaky breath. “But I’m tired of missing him and wondering why he’s there and I’m here.”

  Jackson sighed. “Fine, then call McGraw and if he approves your little trip then you have my blessing.”

  “I’m going and you’re not going to say anything to McGraw,” Jillian said each word with slow precision.

  “You can’t do this to me again.”

  Jillian drew her brows together. “Again?”

  “Claire.”

  “Don’t,” she warned.

  “You told me you were going to San Diego with Claire and I wasn’t supposed to say anything to anyone.”

  “That’s not—”

  “What?” Jackson rested his hands on his hips and leaned forward. “Fair? Is that what you were going to say? Because you’re right, it’s not fair. It’s not fair that you make me feel responsible for everybody’s fucking life. It’s not fair that I have to keep your secrets and keep you alive.”

  He was right and every cell in her brain knew it. A downside to being Jillian Knight was the tendency to ignore all reason. She did everything one-hundred percent or not at all. AJ was unfinished business.

  “I absolve you of your brotherly duties because I’m going. I have to.”

  Jackson looked at the ceiling. “You’re so fucking stupid.”

  Passionate. Jillian lived her life with an intensity born of deep passion. Jackson did too, he just refused to see their shared reflection in the mirror.

  *

  McGraw didn’t stop Jillian from making her first trip to Portland. Jillian had no reason to believe he’d stop her from making a second trip. Although Jackson didn’t like him, he still referred to McGraw as Jillian’s other big brother. She retched a little every time Jackson made the comparison.

  After landing in Portland, she rented a Jeep and texted AJ.

  Done

  Her nerves were frayed from the opposing friction of fear and anticipation over seeing him. She had no idea why he’d beckoned her and why it seemed to be such a secret. It didn’t matter. He was the only one who mattered as she waited in a Subway parking lot just five miles from his parents’ house.

  Sarge: One hour. 2 blocks north.

  “Calm the fuck down, Jillian.” She rested her hand over her chest. “It’s not like you’re kidnapping him.”

  It had been too many weeks since she’d seen him. A lifetime ago, or so it felt after resigning herself to the fact that she would never see him again. She held her breath as a figure moved toward the Jeep, a dark shadow in the night.

  He opened the door and slid in the gray leather seat. Jillian continued to hold her breath. He didn’t even look at her.

  “Go.” The profile of the man beside her barely resembled the man she’d been with in Omaha. He’d lost weight, mostly muscle weight, and his cheekbones were more prominent against his slightly sunken eyes. No hair. No eye brows. No eye lashes.

  Her gaze lingered on the raised burn mark near his left temple. She clenched her hand to keep from reaching for him. Finally, she exhaled, turning on the headlights and shifting into drive.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Anywhere but here.”

  “Home?”

  He shook his head.

  Less than ten minutes later he was asleep. She rested her hand on his. He didn’t move so she just drove. By three in the morning Jillian needed sleep. Somewhere in nowhere Idaho she pulled into the parking lot of a hotel and paid for a room. AJ still hadn’t moved. Jillian found herself brushing her fingers over his wrist, feeling for a pulse. A weak beat, but nonetheless, a beat.

  “AJ?” she whispered several times before he stirred to consciousness. “Let’s go inside.”

  With groggy eyes he surveyed the area and nodded once. Jillian wrapped his arm around her shoulder, doing her best to steady him enough to make it to the room. He collapsed on the bed and just like that, he was out again. Jillian swallowed past the lump in her throat as she looked at the shell of a man that she used to know.

  After pulling off his shoes, she tucked a pillow under his head and tried to move his legs so they both rested on the bed instead of hanging off the edge. Then she sank onto the bed next to his and closed her eyes, hoping when she opened them he’d look different—stronger, more alive.

  *

  A moaning of a wounded animal woke Jillian several hours later. She shot up, disoriented and panicked until AJ came into sight. He coughed a few times then squinted his eyes open.

  “Water,” he said
with a raspy voice.

  Jillian filled a cup in the bathroom and handed it to him as he struggled to a sitting position on the bed. He took it down in three large swallows.

  “More.”

  She nodded and refilled his cup. After drinking the second glassful, he let his eyes settle on her for the first time.

  “You’re stunning,” he whispered, the dryness in his throat still evident.

  Luke had told her everything was relative, so although she felt far from stunning, given her present company, she conceded to the stunning compliment.

  “Thank you. You look like shit.”

  AJ worked hard for a small smile. It was barely detectable, but she saw it.

  “God, I’ve missed you.” He dropped his head back against the headboard.

  “Well, I assumed from the nasty burns that they’ve been frying your brain, but that crazy statement just confirmed it.”

  Another hint of a smile. “Come here.” He opened his arms.

  Jillian stared at him.

  “Don’t act like you’re afraid of breaking me. You’ve already done that … more than once.”

  She wanted, needed, a smart-ass remark to give back to him, but seeing him that way broke something inside of her. So she curled up on his lap and rested her ear against his chest as he wrapped her in his arms.

  “Jackson’s screwing your housekeeper.” She batted away a rebel tear.

  AJ’s chest vibrated with a soft chuckle. “Of course he is.”

  “She’s beautiful and very nice. I can’t believe you didn’t snatch her up yourself.”

  He kissed the top of her head and another tear broke free, but she caught it before it fell to his chest. “I’m not into the pretty, nice girls. I kinda have a thing for evil temptresses who usually have a black eye or busted lip. Flawless beauty is overrated.”