by Ann, Jewel E
“And you thought I couldn’t cook.”
AJ shoved half of it into his mouth, leaving a mess of chocolate and marshmallow smeared along his lips.
“Good?” Jillian chuckled, taking a much smaller bite of hers.
“So good.” Graham cracker crumbs shot out from his over-stuffed mouth.
“How can you even taste it with your mouth so jam-packed?”
After some lion-sized chews and a few big swallows he could talk without spitting all over her. “I can’t remember the last thing that tasted this good.”
Every smile felt like the last, like watching the finale to a fireworks display. Jillian captured each one, letting it make a slow burn into her memory.
“You’re staring. My face is a mess, isn’t it?” He brushed his fingers over his lips.
Jillian moved over to his lap. “I’ve met two-year-olds that eat neater than you.” She ran her thumb along his bottom lip then sucked the tip of her thumb.
He grabbed her wrist and pulled her thumb from her lips back to his.
“You should take your pills,” she whispered, feeling a sudden wave of nerves from the intimacy of his touch.
Leaning forward, he rested his forehead on her chest, his hands on her hips. “I’m not ready to stop feeling yet.”
Drawing in a shaky breath, fighting a lifetime of emotions, she kissed the top of his head, pressing her palms to his cheeks.
He looked up at her. “Missing you hurt worse than anything they did to me.”
Biting her lips together, she shook her head. “Loving you feels like torture.”
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“I’m not.” She kissed him, welcoming every emotion: the pain, the breath of life, the uncertainty, the fear, the love. So. Much. Love.
“Aric James … I need us.”
He carried her into the tent and set her down, kneeling at her feet. Their eyes stayed locked the whole time. Jillian didn’t even want to blink, fearing he’d vanish. Life always changed in that one. Single. Blink.
They undressed each other with a slow reverence, letting every touch, every look, every second … every blink matter. With Luke every moment felt like the first, with AJ every moment felt like the last. As AJ moved inside her, she let it be the moment, because it was the only one she had.
“Jillian?” He kissed her neck, rocking his body against hers with agonizing patience.
“Yes,” she whispered, feeling as if her body could float away.
“From this point forward…” he squeezed her breast until she let out a small cry “…every breath I take belongs to you … only you.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him as close as possible to her. “I hate you … I fucking hate you for leaving me.” A strangled sob released into his neck while she continued to find her release. Her entire body wanted to let go of everything, everything except the beautifully broken man in her arms. How was she ever going to let him go?
“I hate me too.” He fisted her hair with both hands and smashed his lips to hers as he released inside her.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Jackson demolished any time record he had ever set running, and then tore through an abs, pushup, and pull-up workout like his whole body defied gravity. Living under the mercy of two women—one infuriating, one frustrating—paid a mental toll on his sanity, and the only way to keep everything in check was to make his body burn until his mind could no longer conjure a worthwhile thought.
Meredith Baker, his ten o’clock lesson arrived an hour early. Most of his students knew each other or were somehow connected because they’d all been referred to him by word of mouth. Meredith said she couldn’t remember who gave her his name and it didn’t matter how they “found each other” all that mattered is they were “together.”
“Jackson.” She batted her fake eyelashes.
“Mrs. Baker, you’re early … like an hour early.” He shoved the last bite of his toast into his mouth as she wormed her way inside without being invited.
“Oh, am I?” The large-busted woman ran her fake nails through her wiry black hair and smiled, revealing red lipstick smudged along her slightly crooked white teeth.
His lungs begged for air as her toxic perfume diffused into the entryway. “Yes.” He coughed. “It’s only nine.”
“Oh, silly me. I still haven’t changed all my clocks since the time change.”
“I see. Well, I haven’t finished my breakfast and I still need to shower so maybe you could come back—”
“I don’t mind waiting. Just pretend I’m not here.” She adjusted her tight top that seemed to be in a wrestling match with her large breasts.
Jackson rolled his eyes behind her back then grabbed his last piece of toast while she surveyed the room as if she hadn’t seen it numerous times before.
“It’s odd that you don’t have any personal pictures on the wall or fireplace mantel. Don’t you think?”
He didn’t respond. After all, she said to pretend she wasn’t there.
“Did you hear me, Jackson?”
“I did, but I don’t really have an answer for you.”
“Where’s Jillian?”
Jackson paused, mid-gulp of his Redbull. “What did you just say?”
“Your sister. I asked where she is.”
“What does your husband do, Mrs. Baker?”
A nervous smile tugged at her thin lips as she ran her fingers over the top of the piano. “He … he died.”
“Oh? Sorry to hear that. When did he die?”
Fiddling with her earring, she cleared her throat. “Two years ago. It was a heart attack.”
“You haven’t remarried?”
Relief washed over her face when a knock at the door interrupted their conversation. Jackson kept his eyes on her until he opened the front door.
“Ryn.”
She smiled but it quickly faded. “Hey, is everything okay. You look—”
“Everything’s fine.” He grinned, hoping she wouldn’t see through it. “Come in.”
“Thanks, I can’t stay long I have an appointment in forty-five minutes. Oh …” She stopped. “Sorry, I thought your first lesson was at ten.”
“Crazy time change.” Mrs. Baker offered her hand. “Meredith.”
Ryn nodded, shaking her hand. “Ryn.”
“Student? Friend?” Mrs. Baker questioned.
Jackson grabbed Ryn’s arms and pushed her toward the bedroom. “She’s nobody. Have a seat, Mrs. Baker. I’ll be right out.”
Ryn jerked out of his grasp the moment he shut his bedroom door behind them. “Nobody?”
“Shh …” He reached for her but she stepped back.
“Are you screwing her?” She gritted her teeth.
“What? No, God no.” Jackson tried to keep his voice low but still get his point across. “Would you just listen?”
Ryn folded her arms over her chest.
“I don’t trust Mrs. Baker.”
“Mrs. Baker?”
Jackson rolled his eyes. “Meredith.”
“I’m not following.”
“Just … it’s complicated. But if there’s any chance that she’s …” he circled his finger in the cuckoo sign “…then I don’t want her anywhere near you or knowing anything about you.”
“You think she’s stalking you?”
More like spying, he thought. The incredulity in her voice and expression held plenty of merit. It did sound crazy. But crazy was his life.
“At very least she’s been lying to me, and until I figure out why, I can’t trust her.”
“Lying to you about what?”
Jackson sighed. He couldn’t have that conversation with her, but the way she kept a safe distance from him led him to think he couldn’t not have that conversation with her either.
“A couple weeks ago she told me about this great restaurant her husband took her to.”
“So …”
“So, today she told me her husband died two y
ears ago.”
Ryn shrugged. “He probably took her there while he was still alive.”
Jackson rested his hands on his hips and leaned forward. “It was the Mexican restaurant we ate at last week.”
“So … oh shit.”
Jackson nodded.
“That restaurant opened like … two months ago.”
“Exactly.” He gave her a see-I’m-not-paranoid look.
She pursed her lips, brow drawn tight.
“I have to take a quick shower.” He kissed her forehead. “Don’t stress. I’ll handle it.”
Jackson hurried through his shower, mind reeling with the mystery of Mrs. Baker. What he didn’t share with Ryn was Mrs. Baker’s knowledge of Jillian … specifically her name. It’s not that it was a secret, he just instinctually felt protective of her so when students asked about her he simply referred to her as his sister—never Jillian.
“Aren’t you worried about her being out there unsupervised, snooping through your personal stuff?”
Jackson dropped the towel from his waist. Ryn’s gaze slipped straight to his cock then it made a lazy ascent back to his face. She blushed a little at the realization that he’d been watching her ogle him. He loved it.
“Done, hot pants?”
“Shut up.” She moved to the window, finding a sudden fascination in the dirty pond out back. “Did you hear what I said about her going through your stuff?”
He pulled on his briefs and his jeans. “I did. She’s not going to find anything.” His phone and computer were in the bedroom. The Knights didn’t exist beyond their address and a few online utility bills. There was nothing for Mrs. Baker to find, which made her presence in his life that much more disturbing.
“I’m always happy to see you, but if you didn’t stop by to look at my cock, then to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure.”
Ryn turned as he pulled on his T-shirt. “I talked to Maddie last night. I told her about Preston and the abuse.”
“Good for you. How did she take it?”
Ryn frowned. “She didn’t believe me. Preston beat me to it. Apparently two years ago he told her I went through a ‘mentally’ unstable time when she was younger. He even told her I tried to commit suicide by over-dosing on anti-depressants and when he tried to help me, I accused him of abusing me. He told her it was best to never mention it unless I brought it up to her.”
Jackson pulled her into his arms.
“It gets worse. Now that she doesn’t have to ‘worry about my reaction’ she’s given me this ridiculous ultimatum that I know her father is behind.”
“Which is?”
“She’s refusing to see me or talk to me again until I drop the restraining order against Preston.”
He held her back at arms’ length. “But you’re not going to, right?”
She shrugged. “She’s my daughter, my only child. I can’t just sever all ties with her.”
“She thinks you’re lying about her father. He has her so fucking brainwashed it won’t matter what you do, she’ll never believe you. But giving into this is going to put you in danger and it will be like admitting you were lying or overreacting about the whole situation in the first place.”
“It’s ten o’clock.” Mrs. Baker knocked at the bedroom door.
Ryn pulled her phone out of her pocket and checked the time. “I’m running late.”
Jackson cradled her face. “Being an example of a strong woman is the best way to love your daughter.”
She nodded, ever so slightly.
He kissed her until her body went limp in his grasp. “See you later, hot pants. Training, dinner, fucking.” He smacked her ass.
She rubbed her hand over it like it stung, and he hoped it did. He wanted her thinking of him the rest of the day.
“Fucking?”
“Sorry. Sexual intercourse? Coitus? The union and rhythm of our genitals?”
“I-I’ve got to get out of here.”
He loved pushing all her buttons, playing her with the ease of Black Beauty. Ryn reacted with her whole body and Jackson couldn’t get enough.
*
Gunner greeted Ryn with a few sloppy kisses after her long day of crawling around on her knees cleaning other people’s homes while hers collected a nice layer of dust. She packed her bag, what she assumed would need to be an overnight bag, then loaded her dog and his food in the back of her RAV4.
“Haven’t seen you around much.”
Ryn turned, an instant smile graced her face. “Drew. How have you been?”
He smiled that crooked smile that eased the stress from her asshole of an ex-husband and her young, naive daughter.
“I’m good, thank you.” His expression sobered. “I know we don’t have an official neighborhood watch, but I’ve noticed someone snooping around your place on more than one occasion. It’s always been when you’re not home and he never got that close to the house thanks to Gunner. I said something to him when he went through your mail the other day.”
She fought to keep her panic hidden. “And?”
“He said he was your brother. When I told him your brother died, he told me to mind my own fucking business, got in his black Escalade, and I haven’t seen him around since.”
“Thank you.” She gripped her keys.
“Do you know who it could have been?”
“Preston,” she whispered.
“Your ex with a restraining order against him?”
“Copper blond hair mixed with a little gray, always in an expensive suit, gold Rolex?”
Drew nodded. “What’s he want?”
“Me always on edge, looking over my shoulder, shunned by my own daughter, and completely miserable.”
“What are you going to do about it?”
She took a deep breath. “I’m going to practice some self-defense, have dinner, and then …” With a shrug she bit her lips together. Drew didn’t need to know about the “fucking.”
“Be safe. I’ll keep an eye out and call the police if I see him again.”
Ryn nodded. “Thanks, Drew.”
Somehow her car made it to Jackson’s, even if she couldn’t remember a single turn or stoplight. The question was whether or not to say anything to Jackson about the information Drew shared. Their first meeting ended in Preston going to the hospital via an ambulance. She could only imagine what Jackson might try to do if he knew Preston had been snooping around her place. He had his own issues with his peculiar and suspect piano student.
“That’s a big bag,” Jackson smirked as she stepped inside the front door. “You moving in?”
“Oh … um, no, it’s just a change of clothes…” she stammered her words “…to wear to dinner.”
He grabbed her bag and tossed it in his bedroom then kissed her so hard she questioned the whereabouts of her tonsils. “I’m just messing with you. My future wife can stay with me for as long as she wants. Forever would be ideal.”
Her heart needed to know why he kept doing that. It was fun until she actually wanted him to mean every word. Even in that moment she shocked herself by thinking that. Did she want him to mean every word?
His smile faltered, perhaps because of the way her jaw hung to her feet. “Ready to kick my ass?”
Regaining control of her mandibular function, she nodded. Ryn assumed he’d teach her more moves, life-saving skills. Instead he had her demonstrate her pathetic endurance through a cardio and strength-training workout. People spent hundreds of dollars on fancy equipment and gym memberships and he brought her to his mercy with a jump rope and pull-up bar. Everything else didn’t require anything: squats, pushups, dips, planks, burpees. The pinnacle of her embarrassment came when she couldn’t even do one pull-up without him helping her by lifting up on her hips. Val would get an ass-chewing for letting Ryn think she was in good shape.
Sagging in the corner, sucking down water like oxygen, she watched him do one-arm pull-ups. Admiring his firm planes of muscles flex in waves along his back, arms, and l
egs, she became primed and so very ready for their post dinner plans. The chances of him feeling the same way after watching her die before his eyes seemed unlikely. Sweaty old lady nose-planting after seven pushups had to have been anti-climatic for his sex drive.
“Ready to shower, hot pants?” Jackson wiped his face and chest with a white towel.
“Just be honest with me. Am I your beard?”
He chuckled. “My beard?”
“Yes, as in you’re gay but you don’t want people to know so you have a woman with whom—”
“I know what the term beard means. You think I’m gay?”
“No. I think you could be having sex with women so hot even I’d consider a night of lesbian love if they offered. Instead you’re with me and I’m certain I don’t look like those fitness models after a workout. I can just feel how my hair surely resembles a drowned rat, and my face beams with heat so I know I must still be red even after twenty minutes of recovery.”
Jackson hooked his towel around her neck and pulled her against him. “Are you done?”
Ryn gave it another moment of thought then nodded once.
“Good. So let’s take my penis and your vagina upstairs and see what trouble they can get into in the shower.”
Ryn rolled her eyes. “When you say it like that it sounds ridiculous.”
“You think?” He lifted her over his shoulder and carried her upstairs. “In that case, maybe I’ll just bury my cock so deep in your pussy you’ll be tasting me every time you swallow. Better?”
“Yes, utterly poetic.”
*
Withholding pleasure as a form of torture? Ryn found out the hard way it’s a real thing. They monkey fucked in the shower in every position possible, stopping each time to find a new position a breath before Ryn climaxed. At first it seemed like a coincidence, after all he couldn’t have known that she was about to orgasm.
Wrong.
By the fourth time she really began to suspect something, but before she could get the words out he whispered in her ear, buried balls deep from behind, “I’ll let you come if you promise to never mention our age difference and always … and I mean always act like the fucking goddess you are, making me barely worthy of even looking at you.”