End of Day (Jack & Jill #1)

by Jewel E. Ann

  “Where are you, dick face?” she yelled as the door slammed shut.

  And so it began. Her love for him was so touching.

  He pumped through pull-ups in the doorway to his bedroom. There was no need to answer. She’d smell his sweat and pain like a bloodhound.

  “Mother fucker!” He fell from the bar, landing on his side in fetal position, gasping for his next breath through the intense pain radiating in his stomach and groin. “Below the belt…” he gritted through his teeth “… not … cool.”

  “Yeah, well lucky for you, once you stop gagging on your testicles you’ll be fine. AJ’s ribs are going to be sore for weeks. What is wrong with you?”

  Every nerve in a guy’s body connects to his balls. It was both a blessing and a curse. Once the nausea and lightheadedness faded, all that was left was the dull ache.

  Jackson fought his way into a sitting position against the wall. “For reasons that have somehow slipped my mind at the moment…” he continued to grimace “…I feel responsible for the evil demon that is my sister.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned forward, looking down on him with said evil demon’s glare. “AJ has PTSD and suffers unimaginable migraines. I’ve hit him in the nose twice, broken it once, and left an embarrassing and most regrettable collage of claw and bite marks tattooed over his body. I think it’s best we refrain from any more bodily harm before he slaps a restraining order against both of us. Agreed?”

  Jackson nodded. Jillian turned to leave.

  “Jill?”

  “What?”

  “I think you’ve had enough too. Don’t let him hit you again. Agreed?”

  “Agreed,” she whispered.

  Jackson’s phone rang. It was on his bed, ten feet away. A long ten feet. He crawled through the pain to answer it.

  “Yes?” he groaned.

  “Hey, pookie. My mom’s out of town. Want to have a playdate?”

  It was a good possibility that any girl inviting him over for a playdate might be too young for him. That and Mr. Snuffelupagus was not feeling so pookie that night.

  “Sorry, Dahlia, I’m a little under the weather right now.”

  “Oh dear … need me to come over and take care of you?”

  “No, no, no … I’m good. I’ll call you.” He ended the call and rested his head against the bed. “Dammit, I’ve got to keep my dick out of that girl’s mouth and cut her loose.”

  *

  Hallmark really needed to make a Sorry I Beat the Shit Out of You card. The Knights would have purchased them in bulk. In lieu of the nonexistent poetic gesture, Jillian opted for breakfast in bed delivered to AJ, at the ass crack of dawn since that’s when he awoke.

  She retrieved the well-hidden key under his planter and let herself inside.

  “Your lack of conscience or morals when it comes to breaking and entering is disturbing,” AJ mumbled from behind the morning paper. At five a.m. he was already showered and dressed.

  “I brought you breakfast in bed as a peace offering for Jackson’s irrational behavior. So if you wouldn’t mind getting naked and under the sheets, I’ll set this on a plate and surprise you with it in about two minutes.”

  AJ folded the paper and tossed it aside. Taking a sip of his coffee he made a quick assessment of her attire—black lace panties, a grey and white polka dot tank top, and her favorite red rain boots.

  “I’m fairly certain whatever you managed to throw together for my breakfast is the opposite of a peace offering.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  “You’re welcome.” He couldn’t keep his eyes from wandering over her body.

  “If you don’t stop looking at me like that, the only thing you’ll be eating for breakfast is me.”

  He raised a brow like a sexy accent to his sly smile. “I already know you taste better than anything in that bag.” He shoved the newspaper on the floor. “Hop up and spread ’em.”

  She sighed. “Nice job calling my bluff. Actually, it’s cinnamon coffeecake—”

  “Oh Lord … I bet you actually put coffee grounds in it, didn’t you?”

  She set the bag on the table and straddled his lap. He tensed, bending as far back into the chair as he could to keep a safe distance between her and his ribs.

  Pinching his lips together like a duck’s, she narrowed her eyes. “As I was saying … it’s cinnamon coffeecake that Greta made for Jackson while I was gone. Apparently she was under the impression I do the cooking and therefore he was going to starve if she didn’t offer him sustenance until I returned.

  AJ jerked his head to the side, freeing his mouth from her grip. “I’ve had Greta’s coffeecake, it’s the best. Now…” he grabbed her hips and lifted her off his lap with a small, painful grimace “…move your rump so I can have some.”

  “Rump?”

  AJ pulled the foil off the coffeecake. “It means ass or buttocks.”

  Jillian leaned her hip against the table, arms crossed over her chest. “I know what it means. You sounded like an old man using that term. It wasn’t sexy.”

  He shrugged then hummed—that sounded sexual, but it wasn’t about her rump … it was Greta’s food porn. “Need I remind you that I am older than you, but I’d rather you not call me an ‘old man.’ And I’d imagine you don’t come across the word rump much in the fake meat aisle at the store, but it’s a meat term, like rump roast.”

  Jillian picked off a chunk of the crumble topping and popped it in her mouth. It was orgasmic. “So you like rump roast?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Well then, I’m going to take rump as a compliment coming from you. I do believe in your older-man way you just told me I’m a fine piece of ass.”

  AJ grinned around his fork as he slid it from his mouth. Sexy. As. Fuck. Jillian’s panties fainted to her ankles.

  “Did you hear about Matthew Green?” AJ nodded toward the newspaper.

  Jillian froze. “Who?” She cleared her throat to mask the shakiness of her voice.

  “Edwin Harvey? He died over a decade ago, but surely you’ve heard the name. He was a serial killer from San Diego. I think he killed over fifteen young women—stalked them on the internet. Anyway, he had an accomplice, Matthew Green, who disappeared. He’s been on the FBI’s most wanted list for years. He was found dead at a rest stop in Wyoming. It was the rest stop we stopped at late Wednesday night. His body was found early Thursday morning.”

  “W-what are you saying?” She swallowed hard.

  AJ chuckled. “Just that it’s crazy. What are the chances that we were so close to crossing paths?”

  Jillian shook her head. “Yeah … crazy.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Day

  Luke and Jessica looked at the two queen beds and then each other.

  “What’s my safest bet?” Sleeping in the same room with the woman he desired to the point of physical pain was not going to be an easy feat for Luke.

  She pursed her lips to the side. “Hmm … I’d say the one closest to the door. If you get up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom you won’t accidentally bump my bed and startle me. That might not end well.”

  “My prostate’s not sixty years old, but good plan anyway. What about in the morning? I didn’t pack a pool stick.”

  She laughed. “I wake fine to alarms, voices, serenading … just don’t touch me.”

  “Serenading?”

  “Yes.”

  “Any requests?”

  “Tony Bennett, I Left My Heart in San Francisco will do just fine.” She grabbed her toiletry bag and squeezed past him to the bathroom.

  His dick twitched just from the brief brush of her arm against his. He. Was. In. Trouble.

  “So if you could live anywhere in the world you’d choose San Francisco?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  She mumbled over her toothbrush. “I’ve lived there my whole life and it feels like a physical part of me. If I ever l
eave it will not be willingly and my heart will seriously be ripped from my chest.”

  Luke loved the city by the bay too, but he’d never felt a physical connection to it beyond his address … until he met Jessica.

  “What about you, Jones?” She stepped out of the bathroom wearing lacy panties and a pink camisole top that hid absolutely nothing.

  Not good.

  “If you could live anywhere in the world where would you choose?”

  Her bed.

  “Uh … it’s hard…” he was hard “…to say. I haven’t traveled the world. I probably haven’t been to paradise yet.”

  Her bed.

  “Well, let me know if you find it.”

  He wouldn’t have to tell her, she would know.

  She slipped under the covers. “You’re staring, Jones.”

  “You’re half naked, of course I’m staring.” He gripped the back of his neck and groaned while grabbing his bag and escaping to the bathroom.

  He prayed for her to fall asleep so he wouldn’t have to deal with an awkward goodnight situation, but … no such luck.

  “Pajama pants? Really?” she teased.

  “They’re lounge pants and I don’t usually sleep in them, except when I’m traveling.”

  “What do you sleep in at home?”

  He climbed in bed and shut off the wall light between them. “I don’t wear anything in bed at home.”

  A soft whimper came from her side of the room. His heart hammered in his chest but not nearly as hard as it was in another area of his body.

  “I can’t get to sleep. I’m too …”

  He swallowed. “Too?”

  “Turned on, horny, in need of a release.”

  “I don’t want to know that.” He gritted his teeth, willing his hand to not slip into his pants.

  “Well I didn’t want to know that you normally sleep in the nude.”

  “Then you shouldn’t have asked.”

  “I need my sleep, Jones, or we’re both out a grand tomorrow.”

  He massaged his temples. “Well what do you want me to do about it?”

  “Ugh … I don’t know. Let’s just do it. Let’s have sex.”

  It was a brilliant idea. She read his mind.

  “Good night, Jessica.” His conscience was an evil, blue-balling bastard. “What the hell?”

  “I need it, Jones,” she whispered in his ear while climbing on top of him.

  His dick was so hard she nearly snapped it clean from his body while grinding her pelvis into his. The situation was volatile and extremely time-sensitive. Four layers: her barely-there lace panties, the cotton sheet, his pants, and his briefs that were wearing thin against his erection and the rowing motion of her hips.

  “N-not a good idea,” he lied.

  She thrust her tongue into his mouth and clawed at his chest. “Mmm … do you have a better idea?” she murmured against his neck, working her mouth down to his shoulder.

  He didn’t.

  Starting at her hips, he slid his hands up her body, stopping at her breasts, squeezing them as she moaned in response.

  “Oh God, Jones … I need this so bad.”

  It was impossible to abandon a woman in need. Luke shoved her top above her breasts and sat up with a desperate jerk as his mouth devoured her. She cried his name, arching her back, as his tongue slid across her nipple. The desire to crawl inside her body and never return sucked every last coherent thought from his brain.

  The sensible doctor was nowhere to be found. A man with his own needs clenched her small waist and guided her body over his, cursing all four of those damn layers. Her head dropped to his shoulder as her hands clutched the muscles along his back.

  It happened so fast—without warning.

  Luke flipped her over and kissed her, pinning her to the bed with the weight of his body.

  A deep grunt that sounded like an animal catching the fatal end of an arrow vibrated from Luke’s chest as he rolled to the side.

  “Oh my God!” Jessica flipped on the light. “I-I’m so …” she stuttered with her hand cupped over her mouth, kneeling on the bed beside him. Tears sprang from her eyes as her words lodged in her throat. The regret on her face cut so much deeper than the bite on his shoulder and the torn skin on his back.

  She broke down before his eyes because he couldn’t control himself. Him … not her.

  “Jess.” He pulled her into his arms.

  “Not you…” she sobbed “…I w-wasn’t supposed t-to do that … n-not to you.”

  “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

  She pushed away from his grip—blood on her lips, blood on her fingernails. “It’s not okay! You rolled over on me, pinning me down, and … and I-I lost it because I’m a fucking psychotic monster.”

  “Jessica,” he said in a reprimanding tone.

  She shot out of bed and ran to the bathroom.

  “Jess.” He knocked on the locked door, unable to hear anything but water running. “Open up.”

  “I just … just … give me a minute.” Her words, a mournful plea, gutted him.

  He sat on the end of the bed and waited. Every accolade he’d ever earned weighed heavily on his conscience. He was a fraud and the broken woman behind the door was proof. They couldn’t go back to a doctor-patient relationship, yet every step forward felt like a detour.

  She opened the door. In that moment he knew it would be his life’s purpose to give her everything—his body, his mind, his soul, his very. Last. Breath.

  “I’m so sorry.” She sucked in a shaky breath, holding it together, once again proving her immortal strength. Crawling on the bed behind him, she pressed a warm wash cloth to the cuts.

  He held his breath, stopping time to commit to memory the way his heart ached for hers. It was the most incredible feeling in the world. He’d never felt more alive. She eased off the bed and stood between his legs, cleaning the bite mark on his shoulder.

  “I don’t expect you to forgive me.” She kept her eyes on his shoulder.

  His hand covered hers. When she looked at him, nothing else in the world mattered. “Jessica Day …”

  She bit her lips together, a new round of tears swelled in her eyes, her breath captive in her chest.

  He took the washcloth from her and brought her hand to his lips, kissing the inside of her wrist. “I’m so … very … one-hundred percent … madly in love with you.”

  Relief flooded from her eyes in uncontrolled tears. He pulled her into his arms and held her like his life depended on it.

  “What if—”

  “Shh.” He kissed her just below her ear then whispered, “No what-ifs. I’ve got this. I’ve got you—I’ll always have you.”

  *

  The good news? Luke loved her. The bad news? Luke loved her. It had been the most emotionally draining and romantic night of Jessica’s life—until they crawled into separate beds and went to sleep. Maybe they could live like a ninety-year-old couple—forego the sex, sleep in separate beds, but eat together and hold hands on long walks.

  At two a.m. the alarm sounded. She crawled out of bed and grabbed their two fruit smoothies from the small refrigerator. Luke didn’t even open his eyes when she nudged him to wake up, but he followed her orders: drink this and go back to sleep. Her regimen for race day started with breakfast at two, sleep, wake, hydrate, and kick ass.

  Several hours later, Tony Bennett serenaded her in her dreams about hearts being left in San Francisco. It was so real, as if her mind had a volume button allowing each word to get louder and louder until she opened her eyes.

  “Good morning.” Luke grinned, sitting on the edge of his bed at a safe distance. His phone was on the nightstand beside her and Tony Bennett was indeed serenading her, but not in her dreams. “I called Tony and told him it was a big day for you so he agreed to be your alarm clock.”

  Jessica smiled. “But he had a prior engagement and couldn’t fit me into his schedule so you downloaded his song from iTunes.”

 
“Are you going to call me out on such inconsequential details for the rest of our lives?”

  Her heart stumbled over its next few beats. The rest of our lives? She sat up in bed as he moved over to her, cupping his hand behind her head and pulling her to his lips.

  “Oh, uh … wait.” She ducked out of his hold and crawled out of bed.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Brushing my teeth,” she mumbled over a mouth full of suds while internally frowning at the puffy eyelids in the mirror.

  He peeked around the corner. “Really? You won’t kiss me until you’ve brushed your teeth?”

  “Really. That shit’s only sexy in movies and books.” She wiped her mouth with the towel then wrapped her arms around his neck.

  “So you wouldn’t kiss me if I had morning breath?”

  “As long as I didn’t then yes.”

  “That makes no sense.”

  “It does. I’m human. My shit stinks and my mouth tastes like rotten mothballs in the morning. You, however, always smell like sin and sex mixed with some expensive soap. I think you could bottle your sweat and sell it for a hundred dollars an ounce.”

  “Shut up and kiss me.” He plunged his tongue into her minty-fresh mouth confirming his sinfully sexy appeal that left her feeling tipsy and breathless.

  He released her and she grabbed the vanity to steady herself.

  “I’m going to go a week without showering or brushing my teeth to see if you change your mind.”

  “You do that. I bet you’ll have a harem trailing you as your pheromones multiple and age like a fine wine.”

  He shook his head. “Get dressed. We’ve got some money to win.”

  *

  Kelly texted Jessica that they’d meet them in the lobby after she and Gabe grabbed breakfast. They didn’t follow Jessica’s well-researched nutrition plan for race day. Their loss.

  “You need to tell Kelly that we went to Tahoe together,” Luke said in the elevator on their way to the lobby.

  Jessica pulled the bottle of Smart Water she’d been nursing away from her mouth. “Why?”