The Jack & Jill Series

by Ann, Jewel E

  He took a long pull, unaffected by the cold and appearing bored with her stating the obvious.

  “You trashed my heart. You and your relentless pursuit of me have completely wrecked this life I’ve fought so hard to get back. I didn’t want to love you, but I did. I didn’t want you to promise me forever, but you did, and then you took it back. Now I’m left with what? What’s left when someone takes back forever?”

  “Don’t cry.” His brow furrowed.

  “I’m not crying!” She wiped her cheek. “Dammit,” she whispered to herself, making haste to dissolve the rest of the evidence. Her frayed nerves and uncooperative hormones deserved reprimanding with a full bottle of wine as soon as she got home.

  The lines on his forehead deepened with her outburst.

  “For God’s sake.” She fisted her hands at her side, her voice escalating despite her effort to stay calm. “You asked me to marry you. I said yes. I. Said. Yes!”

  He took another pull of his beer, leaning his back against the door to keep it open.

  “You’re supposed to fight for me. You’re supposed to get down on your knees and beg for my forgiveness because you were a complete jerk. Instead, you seem hell-bent on teaching me some lesson about not letting men step all over me, as if having the shit beat out of me for years wasn’t enough of a lesson. And that crap about you acting like the only thing you’re good at is fucking random women … that hurt! What is wrong with you? Why …”

  Fuck the tears. It no longer mattered.

  “Why can’t you just love me?”

  *

  It happened. She broke him.

  He always imagined it would be his sister. Both Jessica and Jillian had tried over the years. Somehow he knew his sister’s strength would allow her to persevere.

  Not Ryn. She wore a brave face over the hollow shell of a woman she used to be. Jackson never knew that woman, but he saw glimpses of her. It made him want to end Preston Iverson’s life for beating it out of her. It made him want to shake some sense into Maddie for not seeing the amazing woman before her.

  “So that’s it? You don’t have anything to say?” She sucked in her quivering lips, tipping her chin to her chest. “It would hurt less if you hit me.” Her words were nothing more than a soft murmur to herself, but Jackson heard every single one.

  He turned, letting the storm door close between them as he set his beer on the table. When he walked back toward the door, the woman who owned him had made it halfway to her car, head down, sobs racking her body.

  He was a jerk. He didn’t deserve her. And if he could live without her, he’d let her get in her car and hate him forever. If he could live without her. But he couldn’t.

  “You’re going to regret loving me.”

  She jumped, gasping for a breath, as he scooped her up in his arms and hauled her inside the house.

  “But that’s just too fucking bad.” He deposited her on Jillian’s bed, smashing his mouth to hers before she could protest or speak any words for that matter.

  There were so many things left to say, but he needed her physically before he could even think of articulating the vulnerable, emasculating emotions in his mind. Her fingers curled into his arms and he felt them gripping his soul. When she wrapped her legs around his waist, he moaned like a wounded animal.

  They became a tangle of limbs, ripping off clothes. He peeled away from her body. Standing to remove his jeans, he left her breathless on the bed. Her tongue eased out to wet her lips while her fingers traced the C-section scar before resting a hand over it. He’d seen it many times before. Her insecurities saddened him.

  “Don’t,” he whispered, kneeling between her legs.

  Keeping his eyes fixed on hers, he pushed her hand away from the scar. She swallowed hard. It broke him a little more.

  “I love you.”

  Ryn closed her eyes. A lone tear trailed down to her ear.

  “I love your imperfections. I need them. They give me hope that you will love mine too.”

  Could she love him if she really knew him? He prayed to God she could.

  Ryn opened her eyes. Sitting up, she shifted to her knees, facing him. He clenched his teeth, afraid to breathe, as she pressed her palms to his face. Her gentle touch dominated his strength. Ryn’s ineffable beauty stripped him raw, leaving him a slave to her mercy. In that moment only one truth existed: he would protect her with his life, and she would make him human again.

  “There’s nothing about you I couldn’t love … if you’d just let me,” she whispered.

  He kissed her, palming her breasts until she moaned, opening her mouth wider to him. The slide of her hand from his face to his chest ended wrapped around his cock, annihilating his last bit of control.

  “God, Ryn …” He thrust into her touch, biting and sucking at her lips. “I’m so fucking sorry … this isn’t going to be gentle.”

  She answered by curling her fingers into his hair, yanking hard while plunging her tongue into his mouth. Jackson slipped his hands behind her legs and lifted her up. When she wrapped her legs around him, he pushed inside her, swallowing each other’s groans.

  He fucked her. He loved her. He drowned in the sensation of being lost inside her. And when Jackson Knight emerged … he was one. His duality vanished under her touch. Jackson loved Ryn to the depths of eternity, and so did Jude Day.

  Chapter Seven

  “Why are we in Jillian’s room?” Ryn lifted the sheet, peeking down at Jackson, who seemed content sprawled out on his stomach between her legs, head resting on her stomach. She combed her fingers through his hair in a lazy rhythm. The look on his face led her to believe he could start purring.

  “My ex-cleaning lady went berserk.”

  She stopped her hands, fisting his hair. “Ex?”

  He chuckled. “Yes. I feel her attention to detail isn’t what it used to be.”

  Her smile faded, washed away by the memory of his parting words. “Can you be honest with me?”

  His answer took its time. It bothered her that he needed to consider his ability to be honest with her.

  “Yes,” he said, turning his head until his lips pressed to her C-section scar.

  “Were you just angry or were you serious when you implied that all you’re good at is … ‘fucking.’”

  A slow breath escaped his lips, warming her skin. “Both. I wanted you to show me I’m more than that guy. He’s all I’ve ever known. But then you went off about foot rubs, porch swings, and paint swatches. I knew I would never be that guy. I felt like the guy who helped you see what you want, but it wasn’t me.”

  “Jackson …” Ryn’s chest ached beneath the weight of his words. “I fear you more than I’ve ever feared any man.”

  He turned, resting his chin on her stomach. Confusion lined his brow.

  “Preston hurt me. He broke my skin and even a few bones, and I survived. But you … you could do something Preston could never do. You could break my heart, and I don’t know if I would survive that.”

  “I’m going to hurt you,” he murmured over her skin, inching up her body. “I’m going to do everything wrong nine times out of ten.” He rested his lips between her breasts for a long second then looked up at her. “But I will never cross that line. I’ll never break your heart.”

  Ryn nodded once. Her dreams clung to his words … to his promise.

  “What happened?” She traced the outline of the large adhesive patch on his shoulder.

  “Jillian.”

  “Sibling feud gone wrong?” She smiled. He did not.

  “Were you serious?” he asked.

  Ryn continued tracing the patch on his shoulder. “About?”

  “About there being nothing about me that you can’t love?”

  Her heart raced just from the tone of his voice, as if she somehow knew what he was about to say would forever change her life. But if given a thousand lifetimes to contemplate the possibilities, she never would have imagined his next confession.

 
“Yes,” she whispered past the asphyxiating fear in her throat.

  “The glass on the floor at AJ’s?”

  Ryn nodded slowly.

  “She stabbed me with a long shard of it.”

  “What?” She shook her head. “Why?”

  “I took AJ’s …” Jackson laced his fingers with hers, holding them next to her shoulders as if his words required her to be restrained.

  Her body tensed beneath his, preparing for impact. Of what? She didn’t know. “You took AJ’s … what?”

  “Life.”

  He didn’t say that. She knew that’s not what he said, and if he did there was no way it’s what he meant. It had to be metaphorical.

  “W-what do you mean?”

  “He was in a lot of pain. Jillian was in denial.”

  Ryn shook her head, trying to wriggle from his grasp, but the more she tried, the harder he held her down.

  “What are you saying? You … you killed him?”

  “Yes.” The firm resolution in his answer held no regret.

  Jackson killed AJ. Jackson. Killed. AJ.

  “It was his decision, not mine.”

  “What?” She tugged against his grip. “Let me go!”

  He released her. She flailed to sitting then scrambled to collect her clothes, tripping on to her face.

  “Are you okay—”

  “I’m fine.” She yanked away from his hold, skidding back onto her butt with her clothes hugged to her chest.

  “Whoa … what the hell?”

  “You killed AJ! You took someone’s life. How can you stand there like it was nothing? That’s … that’s … something. Like illegal and immoral and … and wrong on so many levels. It doesn’t matter that he asked you to do it. He wasn’t in his right mind. I mean … for God’s sake, if I get embarrassed and mumble the words ‘kill me now’ are you going to put a gun to my head and pull the trigger?”

  “What?” He jerked his head back.

  She wasn’t crazy. Okay, she had a little crazy going on, but nothing to warrant the shocked look on his face.

  “Ryn, stop. Just stop. I didn’t put a gun to his head. He. Was. Dying.” Jackson moved toward her.

  She retreated until her back pressed against Jillian’s armoire. “What if his family finds out? You could be charged with murder.”

  “They won’t find out. I know what I’m doing.”

  “You know what you’re doing? H-how? Did you Google euthanasia?”

  He chuckled. That fueled her fire.

  “Oh my God. You’re laughing about this?”

  Jackson shook his head, lips twitching as he tried and failed to hide his smirk. “No. I just didn’t expect this reaction from you.”

  “Oh …” She shoved him out of her way, dropping the wad of clothes onto the bed. She sorted through them to find her bra and panties. “Do share. What reaction did you expect from me?”

  “Stop!” He grabbed her arms and forced her to sit on the edge of the bed as he knelt on the floor in front of her. “I know you don’t know what to do with this information right now. You’re in shock. I get it. AJ had terminal cancer. He couldn’t control his personality and he began to get violent with Jillian. He was going blind and losing his ability to even form words. He couldn’t eat. He was having seizures. He was suffering, Ryn. Can’t you see that?”

  She couldn’t see anything. There was a reason behind the term blindsided.

  Blink. Blink. Blink. She stared, searching for reason.

  “How?” she whispered.

  He sighed. “How what?”

  “How did you kill him?’

  Jackson flinched. A barely noticeable flinch, but she saw it.

  “Does it matter?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “It just does.”

  His hands slid from her arms to her legs as he sat back on his heels and stared at the floor. “I did what I did to Preston in the restaurant. After AJ passed out, I broke his neck.”

  Who was this man?

  “How did it make you feel?”

  “Confused.”

  “Why?”

  Jackson’s response came without hesitation. “Because he didn’t deserve to die.”

  Jackson was right. Ryn didn’t know what to do with his confession. She stared at his hands and tried to imagine him using them to kill another human being. Her hands rested on his, squeezing them. He looked up and she gave him a sad smile.

  “I still love you … all of you.”

  His whole body deflated with relief.

  “Ryn?”

  “Hmm?” She rested her hands on the back of his neck and leaned forward, kissing his forehead.

  “It’s … nothing”

  *

  Jackson plotted a four-step, fool-proof process.

  Step One: Confess the mercy killing first.

  Step Two: Wait for Ryn to acclimate to Jackson’s ability to take another’s life.

  Step Three: Make her fall so deep in love with him that not even the assassin confession could drive her away.

  Step Four: Be prepared to gently hold her in captivity until she snaps out of her inevitable conniption fit because realistically there is no way Step Three would ever fly.

  “Done.” Ryn sighed, tying the last trash bag.

  Jackson nodded from the seat of Black Beauty, where she put him in timeout when he tried to help her clean up the disaster she made hours earlier.

  “You can come out of timeout now.” She smiled, tilting her head to the side, much like Gunner.

  Jackson continued to play a Bach piece, looking only at her. “I’m good. I rather like watching you work, especially when you’re on your hands and knees, scrubbing my kitchen floor.” He twisted his lips to the side, making a quick downward glance as his hands made a transition. “Does that make me a pervert or an attentive boss?”

  Ryn narrowed her eyes. “A pervert since you fired me, therefore you’re no longer my boss.” She picked up both bags, lugging them toward the back door. “Nice knowing ya, Mr. Knight. Thanks for the opportunity. Sorry it didn’t work out.”

  Jackson grinned. “I’d like to rehire you, but just to dust the pedals of my piano, in a low-cut shirt—sans bra. And maybe to do a little spit shining of something else while you’re under there.”

  The door slammed shut. He chuckled to himself. A few moments later she returned, hands on her hips that swayed gently as she walked toward him with a newfound confidence. Or maybe she’d always had it, he just brought it out of her again.

  “I need to go take Gunner for a walk before it gets too late.”

  Jackson nodded as he kept playing. “Show me your tits one more time before you go.”

  She walked behind him, draping her arms over his shoulders. Her teeth tugged at his earlobe. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that because I’m forty, you’re thirty, and we need to meet at a thirty-five age level of maturity if this is going to work. I don’t know too many thirty-five-year-old men that say ‘show me your tits.’”

  “Clearly you don’t know too many thirty-five-year-old men. Or really any men for that matter. We come out of the womb in search of a woman’s tits. That desire never goes away. Our use for them simply changes as we age. I guarantee you every man that you encounter thinks, at least subconsciously, ‘show me your tits, Ryn.’”

  “So every woman you encounter, you want to see her breasts.”

  “Tits. And yes. It’s genetic, sweetheart. So you can’t be pissed. Well … I stand corrected. There are a few women in this particular development whose ‘breasts’ best stay hidden.”

  “I bet Greta would go all Mardi Gras on you in a heartbeat.”

  “No! No. No. No. That’s what I’m talking about. Don’t say that.”

  Ryn laughed. “Goodnight, Jackson,” she whispered in his ear.

  He stopped playing and flipped his legs over the bench to face her. “Goodnight? You’re not coming back?” Hooking an arm around her waist, he
yanked her onto his lap.

  “I don’t live here. Besides, I’m exhausted. Physically and emotionally it’s been the most draining day ever. Anyway, I need a shower.”

  “I like showers.” He bit back his grin, wondering if she would remember the last time he said that.

  Her eye roll and soft laugh confirmed her memory was still intact. “When is Jillian coming home? I heard you tell Greta she’s taking some time for herself. Did she stay in Portland with AJ’s family?”

  Good question.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, have you talked to her since the funeral?”

  “No. She left her phone here. Symbolically, it’s the biggest fuck off she’s ever given me.”

  Ryn brushed her lips against his a few times before kissing the corner of his mouth. “I didn’t love AJ and I flipped out. You’re going to have to give her time and space to grieve, not only AJ’s death but also the trust she had in you.”

  Jackson wasn’t sure if Jillian would ever forgive him. She left having hit a new level of rock-bottom in her life. He had to believe a spark of life would eventually resurrect her. He used to be that spark, but he was no longer.

  His hands slid up the back of her shirt. “Don’t go.”

  “I have to.”

  He let her wriggle out of his hold, righting her shirt when she stood. It was for the best. He needed an outlet and if she stayed, her body would’ve been that outlet. It took considerable strength to not bend her over Black Beauty and fuck her into another dimension. But he knew that would not sate him. He would physically break her before his own body reached the exhaustion it needed to calm his nerves and numb his worries.

  “Drive safely.”

  “You okay?” She cupped the side of his neck. Her fingers played with the hair at his nape. “Your pulse is racing?”

  Jackson swallowed then cleared his throat. “You’re touching me. My dick is hard with a racing pulse as well. You’ve got ten seconds to get your sexy ass out of here before I have you face-down ass-up on my piano.” He gave her a cocky grin to hide the dim reality of his true intentions.

  Ryn’s eyes widened a fraction before settling into their own smile that matched lips he imagined wrapped around the aforementioned pulsing erection. She needed to leave. Stat.