The Jack & Jill Series

by Ann, Jewel E

  “Did you wait?”

  A million words jumbled into so many questions. Why? How? Are you for real? She shook her head.

  “You didn’t wait for me?” Jackson’s eyes widened.

  Ryn shook her head again. “I couldn’t. Once you left there was a line of guys waiting at my door.”

  “Young, no doubt?” His eyes narrowed a bit.

  “Mere babes in the cradle.” She smirked.

  “Jude died. For good this time.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not. He stood in the way of me being with you.”

  Ryn blinked back tears, swallowed hope, and waited for the unknown. At some point in her life she forgot how to dream … how to imagine having any sort of lasting happiness.

  But … there he stood.

  “Are you?”

  With just a few slow steps, his larger-than-life presence swallowed the space between them. The pad of his thumb caught her first tear.

  “Are you with me?” she whispered, desperate for him to pull her out of the shadow of doubt that loomed over her.

  “Forever.”

  “Jackson …” Her arms flew around his neck. She held him with all her strength, daring life to try and take him away again.

  His hands cupped her face and he kissed her. She didn’t care how many people died for him to be with her. His touch made her selfish. She didn’t care why he was there. His past didn’t matter. He was her future.

  Fuck the past.

  “You hacked into my Pinterest account and hired an army of help,” she murmured.

  His lips devoured every inch of her neck as one of his hands laid claim to her ass and the other to her breast.

  “I did.” He unfastened his pants.

  “Are you going to invade my privacy for the rest of our lives?”

  He bit her shoulder, a grin playing along his lips. “Yes. There’s not a single part of you or your life that I’m not going to invade, dominate … claim as mine.” He stood.

  “What if—”

  He kissed her, swallowing her words of protest.

  Taking her into his arms, he backed her against her new stainless-steel refrigerator. Then leaving her breathless, he stepped back.

  “Take off your clothes.”

  The familiar flush surfaced along her skin. She used to hate it, but no longer. It meant the beautiful man before her wanted to see her body. It was crazy, improbable, and utterly flattering.

  “You first.”

  Jackson grinned. He reached for his tie.

  “Leave on the tie … and your glasses.”

  He raised a brow, his cocky smile taking over his face.

  Ryn melted to a puddle on her new floor as he undressed for her. He widened his stance and crossed his naked arms over his naked chest, with the exception of his black tie.

  “Your turn.”

  It took a few seconds for her mind to stop chanting, mine, mine, mine … The tattooed specimen before her was hers. That … she would never completely understand, but for women over forty everywhere—and the greater good—she would spend the rest of her life trying to figure it out—figure him out.

  Fuzzy socks, skinny jeans, a pink V-neck T-shirt—she stripped for him. He made her feel sexy, something no other man had ever done. Letting her bra drop to the floor, she slid off her panties, leaving them next to her bra at her feet.

  “Pick your panties up.”

  She stood still, only her eyes shifting with a bit of confusion.

  “Do it.”

  Keeping her eyes on him, waiting for further explanation, she bent down and picked them up.

  He stepped closer, so close she could smell his minty breath and intoxicating body wash. Ryn was certain she smelled like lemon furniture polish, but she didn’t care in that moment.

  “Wad them up in your fist.”

  “Uh—”

  “Just do it.” He ducked down and sucked her earlobe, biting it as if to accentuate his demand.

  It had to be a fetish he hadn’t revealed to her, she just knew it. Jackson would make her stuff her panties in her mouth to muffle her screams while he fucked her. She took a hard swallow and wadded them up, accepting her new life, a sacrifice for his body inside of hers.

  The expectant look on his face said he was done talking. She knew what to do and he waited for her to do it.

  Slowly … she brought her panties to her face and parted her lips.

  He narrowed his eyes. “What are you doing?”

  “Um … what you want me to do?”

  He grabbed the handle to the refrigerator and jerked it open a few inches, forcing her body flesh to his. “I want you to toss them in the refrigerator, hot pants.”

  Ryn’s eyes widened in realization while her skin crimsoned with embarrassment. She tossed them inside the refrigerator, attempting to act like she didn’t just taste her own panties.

  Jackson knew otherwise. He palmed her ass and hiked her up his body. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he kissed her.

  “You were going to…” he mumbled over her mouth between kisses “…stuff your panties in your mouth for me.” She couldn’t respond. She would never acknowledge any such thing.

  “That’s so fucking hot.”

  *

  Ryn found her sexy and owned it. Jackson Knight was the lucky recipient of it, and nothing compared to a woman hell-bent on making up for missing out on two decades of not feeling loved, not feeling desired, not feeling alive.

  He “effed” her in nothing but a black necktie and black glasses. Then he carried her to her new bed and made love to her.

  “Tell me you’re staying.”

  He chuckled into the pillow, his arms stretched over his head. Ryn’s body cloaked his back, her cheek resting on his shoulder as she traced his inked skin. Naked Ryn touching him—he never wanted to leave her bed.

  “I think we’ve been over this.”

  “I know, but I asked you on the verge of an orgasm and you answered with half my breast in your mouth. Maybe we should go over it again now that we’re sexually sober.”

  “You’re naked, on my back, and tracing my ass with your fingernails. I’m not sure this qualifies as ‘sexually sober.’”

  “Did you just wake up one day and think, ‘Hmm … I’m going to get a dragon tattooed on my ass today.’?”

  “No. It was more of a premonition. I knew someday it would tempt Ryn Middleton into touching my ass.”

  She buried her face in his neck and giggled. “Is that so?”

  “Yes.”

  Her lips brushed the back of his neck. “Tell me you’re staying,” she whispered.

  “Forever.” He rolled over, dragging her on top of him. “Tell me you like your Pinterest house.”

  Her hair tickled his face as she kissed the corner of his mouth. “It’s too much. It took my breath away.” Ryn’s soft blue eyes gazed into his. “You take my breath away. You make all my dreams come true … and it has nothing to do with any of this. It’s just … you.”

  Jackson threaded his fingers into her hair, holding her to his face, nose-to-nose. “I hope our baby has your freckles.”

  Her eyes filled with tears. “What if I can’t—”

  “Shh …” He kissed her, his hands gliding down the perfect curves of her beautiful body. “Don’t worry about it. I can do this. I used to find all the eggs on Easter before Jessica.”

  Ryn laughed through her tears. “Just don’t drown in my pond before you find the eggs.”

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Brother dearest called to share the news of his reunion with Ryn. He had been away from her for less than a week. Did he really think she was going to have moved on already? In his words it was the season of miracles. However, Jessica had yet to witness one. After ten days of living like roommates with Luke, she felt something inside of her begin to die: hope.

  His kindness and patience made it worse. He cooked her meals, took her to dinner, joined her for walks with Jones,
and talked about everything and yet nothing. But he didn’t touch her. They hadn’t made any sort of physical contact since the night he held her in the hospital.

  Every night he told her goodnight and walked to his bedroom—their bedroom—and shut the door. He told her to “stay as long as you want;” he didn’t say “stay forever.” At first it felt like he was giving her space to grieve, space she needed, but that space seemed to grow with each passing day.

  “My family is dying to see you. No pun intended.” Luke smiled as they pulled out of the building, heading to Tahoe for Christmas.

  Jessica hadn’t seen any of his family except Lake. Luke told them about her year as Jillian Knight, but he asked them to wait until Christmas to see her. Once again, to give her time to grieve and acclimate back into her life.

  The trip to Tahoe was bittersweet because he asked if she’d like to come for Christmas with his family. Jessica remembered a time when they considered her part of that family.

  “Well, I’m living to see them,” she replied to his dying comment.

  “I’m surprised you didn’t decide to go to Omaha for Christmas. Don’t get me wrong … I’m glad you’re here.”

  “Thought I’d give them some privacy on their first Christmas together. Apparently he’s working round the clock to knock her up. His words not mine. But I’m glad that you’re glad I’m here. It would be even more awkward if you weren’t.”

  “More awkward?”

  Staring out her window, she felt his sideways glance, but chose to ignore it. “I didn’t mean ‘more.’” She lied. Then she acquiesced to his attempt to engage her in more small talk for the rest of the way to Tahoe.

  “I’ll let Jones do his thing and then bring our bags.”

  “K.” Jessica found her best smile when his family tackled her at the door.

  Hugs, kisses, smiles, and even a few tears. For a moment she felt like family.

  “I have you guys in the same two rooms as your first visit.”

  Two rooms.

  “Thanks, Mom.” Luke gave Felicity a kiss on the cheek.

  “I’ll take our bags upstairs.”

  “I’ve got mine. I might need to reapply some makeup to my skeleton face.” She gave his family a toothy grin as she took her bag from Luke.

  “You look lovely. Don’t even think twice about us,” Felicity said.

  Luke told them everything—almost—and truthfully she didn’t feel an ounce of judgment.

  “That’s why I love you.” She winked. “I won’t be long.”

  Fleeing for her room, she shut the door and leaned back against it. Before she could let her emotions settle, a knock came at her back.

  “Yeah?”

  “It’s me.”

  Jessica opened the door. “Hey, Lake.”

  She stepped inside and took a seat on the bed. “Luke told me to check on you.”

  “I’ve been up here like … five seconds.”

  Lake shrugged. “I know … and hello…” she pointed to her leg “…girl with the fake leg doesn’t love going up the stairs. He’s been so weird lately.”

  Jessica shut the door. “How so?”

  “Since your kidnapping he’s just been on edge and paranoid.”

  “Really?” Jessica had yet to see that side of Luke, which meant he’d put on an act with her.

  “Yes. I’m not trying to compare it to what you went through, which was just … horrifically unimaginable. But I think the whole ordeal messed with his head. Do you have any idea how hard it is to mess with the head of a shrink?”

  She did, at one time. Since their year apart she wasn’t sure if she knew anything for certain about Luke.

  “Has he said anything to you?”

  “Probably nothing he hasn’t said to you.”

  Luke hadn’t said anything to Jessica.

  “Like?”

  Lake twisted her lips. “Like how hard it is to be with you when you’re not ‘together.’”

  “He said that?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure it’s the same for you too.”

  Jessica nodded.

  “Come downstairs.” Lake stood. “You don’t need any makeup. You should have seen me after three months in a coma. Besides you already look better than when I saw you last week. Food looks good on your bones.”

  *

  “Dibs on licking the beaters,” Lake said when she and Jessica walked into the kitchen.

  Felicity rolled her eyes as Lake snatched it from the bowl of whipped cream. “Some things never change.”

  Lake moaned. Her eyes rolled back in her head as she licked the whipped cream. “So good. Where’s Luke?”

  “He took Caleb upstairs to rock him to sleep.” Lara smiled. “He thinks he’s the baby whisperer.” She shook her head.

  “He’s going to be an amazing dad,” Anne added. Her heartfelt smile faded to a nervous one when she looked at Jessica. “I didn’t necessarily mean your kids.” The smile was a full on grimace. “God … I didn’t mean that either … I just meant if he has kids with …”

  “How’s your foot taste?” Lake laughed.

  Jessica welcomed Lake’s attempt to lighten yet another awkward situation.

  “It’s fine, Anne.” Jessica smiled. “I agree. Luke will be a great father someday.” Her nightmare replayed in her mind of Luke, Jones, the baby, and the woman who was not her.

  “Gather the troops. Everything is ready,” Felicity announced, carrying the Martha Stewart-worthy turkey to the table.

  They took their seats. The baby whisperer slid into his chair next to Jessica as Tom said the blessing. After murmurings of Amen, Lane stood, holding his glass in the air.

  “To Jessica. I think we can all agree you are the greatest gift this Christmas.”

  Jessica looked around the room, fighting back all the emotions. “Thank you. I feel the same way about every one of you.”

  Luke’s hand rested on hers for a moment. She blinked and it was gone, but the way his touch lingered paralyzed her.

  They passed around the food. Chattering about kids, the weather, and football ensued. Jessica focused on her mashed potatoes as if she’d never seen them before.

  “So, Jess, are you planning on staying in San Francisco or going back to Omaha?” Tom asked.

  And just like that … all her illusions vanished and reality hit her as cold as the still familiar five-gallon buckets of ice water. Luke let her stay. He wasn’t taking her back. They weren’t “together” and everyone knew it except her.

  The potatoes demanded her attention again. She pushed them around on her plate, knowing she’d never be able to take a bite of them with her heart lodged in her throat.

  “Um … I guess I haven’t … I mean …”

  “It’s fine. I was just asking. I’m sure it’s too soon to know what you want.”

  She risked a glance. “I guess.”

  Not even bound and beaten had Jessica ever felt so weak. The thought of a future without Luke sucked every bit of life from her existence.

  She gutted down the food on her plate, which was a shame since Felicity’s skills rivaled her own mother’s cooking.

  “Keep eating,” Luke whispered for the millionth time.

  “If you say that to me one more time I’m going to jab this fork in your eye.” She gritted between her teeth with a fake smile to everyone else still sitting at the table. Half of the family had excused themselves to fall into a holiday coma in the living room.

  “Dessert?” Felicity asked.

  Jessica ignored Luke’s yes-you-want-dessert look. “Can I wait a little while?”

  “Certainly. I think the kids are antsy to open their presents anyway … and by kids I mean Liam and Lake. I think they’re more excited than Gina, and Caleb is too young to understand.”

  Jessica pushed back in her chair. Luke stared at her.

  “Don’t give me that look. I’ll eat the whole damn pie later, just …” She sighed.

  He grabbed her wrist before she co
uld get away. “You’re upset with me.”

  No. She wasn’t upset. Fucking livid and emotionally broken beyond the destruction of an atomic bomb was a more accurate description.

  “I just want to see you get healthier.”

  “I am. I’m not upset. I’m just full. Okay?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t.” She didn’t intend to have an edge to her tone, but she did. “If I’m not allowed to apologize, then neither are you.”

  “Fine.”

  “Fine.”

  *

  They’d planned on staying three days. Luke questioned if it was too long. Jessica seemed distant and angry, but only with him. He couldn’t figure out what he’d done to upset her.

  “Would you look at this?” Tom said, staring out the back window.

  Luke yawned, pouring a cup of coffee, desperate for a jolt. It was only six in the morning, but he couldn’t sleep with Jessica on his mind. He hadn’t slept much since she showed up at his door.

  “I told her I planned on chopping some wood this weekend. She’s about finished a day’s worth of work in … hell, I’m not sure. What time do you think she got up?”

  Jessica brought the large ax behind her then swinging it over her head, she killed the log in front of her.

  “Think she’s cold?”

  A pair of faded jeans hung too lose from her thin frame. A black T-shirt clung to her sweaty torso. She wore work gloves and a red beanie too. The still unfamiliar blond hair hung in a low pony tail over her right shoulder.

  “I doubt it, but she shouldn’t be doing that. Her shoulder isn’t ready.”

  Tom chuckled. “There’s a six-foot stack of chopped wood out there that says otherwise.”

  “You should tell her to come inside.”

  “Me?”

  Luke sipped his coffee. “Yes. She won’t take it well coming from me.”

  “Bad?”

  “Not good. I don’t know how to talk to her or what to say. I’m so damn afraid she’s going to leave.”

  “She should talk to my son. I hear he’s a brilliant psychiatrist.”

  “Some days I think I’m the one who needs a psychiatrist.”

  “Why don’t you?”

  “I’m not ready to think about me yet. I need to know that she’s going to be okay.”