End of Day (Jack & Jill #1) (10 page)

He wrapped his lips around the tip of his thumb, and Jillian’s golden eyes—the ones that only existed in children’s fantasy books—shimmered in the full light of the moon. There was no way to read into her dubious expression. Did that twinkle in her eyes spell challenge or conquest? Either way he knew for certain it glimmered with the element of surprise.

“Dangerous, huh?” Jillian rubbed her lips together, as if she wanted to savor the taste of him. “To whom?”

AJ pulled his thumb from his lips, rubbing his forefinger over the indentations. “I’m not sure, yet.”

Her gaze faltered. Several thoughtful blinks later she met his eyes again. “Pleasant dreams, AJ.” She lifted on to her toes, but without him bowing, she couldn’t reach his lips. He closed his eyes in a silent prayer for control as she pressed her lips to the hollow of his throat. By the time he opened them and unclenched his fists, she was gone.

*

The nightmares were
rare, one every month or two. And even those were more often flashbacks to the months that led to the demise of his marriage.

The anger.

The fighting.

The reflection AJ no longer recognized.

It was the pain. If not the physical agony of the migraines that came at more frequent intervals, the emotional anguish over his inability to control his temper. One minute he raged out of control over Cage forgetting to make his bed and the next he withdrew, sometimes leaving for days—sleeping on base, or even in his truck. He was never suicidal. There were just times he didn’t want to be found, didn’t want human contact, not even a knock at his door.

“Dad?” Cage whispered.

“Yeah?” AJ answered, his voice gravelly from lack of sleep and muffled from the pillow that covered his head to block out the morning light penetrating his shades like a thousand knives to his brain.

“Um … it’s almost ten-thirty. Are you okay?”

AJ cursed even the dimmest reflection of light as he peeked out from under his pillow to confirm the time. “Dammit!” he mumbled to himself. “I’m fine.”

He wasn’t fine. He was two and half hours late to work and the devil was still drumming in his head. After pulling on a T-shirt and shoving his legs into a pair of jogging pants, he lumbered into the hallway.

“You look like shit.” Cage grimaced as he handed his father a glass of water and a couple Advil.

“Sounds about right.” AJ tossed back the pills.

“Bad one?”

AJ nodded, swallowing the last of the water. “I’ve got to get to work.”

“Take a sick day. That’s what they’re for.”

AJ pinned Cage with a piercing glare. “I’ve never called in sick to work.” He also hadn’t ever had to jerk off twice in less than an hour before going to bed because a certain neighbor had him so painfully turned on. He thought the overdue release would have lessened the severity of his migraine, but it hadn’t.

Cage shrugged. “Whatever. Jillian caught me when I arrived earlier. Jackson’s working until later this afternoon so she asked if I’d give her a ride to Dillion Brothers’ this morning.”

“The Harley Davidson dealership?”

Cage grinned. “Yep. She ordered a bike for herself. Jillian rides a
motorcycle.
Jackson’s one lucky bastard.” Cage shook his head.

“Why do you say that?” AJ brushed past him in desperate need of coffee.

“A wife that looks like a fitness model, wears virtually nothing, and rides a
motorcycle
—not the stereotypical butch-looking broad that you usually see on a bike. I’m talking every guy’s fantasy … times one hundred, and he’s tapping that every day—probably more than once.”

“Cage!” AJ growled with his back to his son, nearly overflowing his coffee cup.

Cage fought to hide his smirk. “Sorry, he’s gently making sweet, sweet love to her every day—probably more than once.” His voice rose an octave.

AJ pinched his temples. “Jackson’s her brother, not her husband.”

Cage’s eyes grew wide. “Really? Why does everyone seem to think they’re married?”

AJ sighed as he glanced at his watch. He needed to get his ass to work and call to let them know why he was running so late. “I don’t know. They’re two grown siblings living together; that’s messed-up enough. I don’t have the time nor the interest to dig any deeper into that situation.” He also didn’t know why he’d fucked her in his head while he got himself off in the shower once and again in bed a half hour later. “Stay away from her …
them
. Got it?” AJ warned as he brought his phone up to his ear.

“It’s just a ride, and I already said I would.” Cage grabbed his keys and waved to his dad.

“Wait—” AJ didn’t get a chance to finish as work picked up on the line and Cage shut the front door. While he explained his situation, he looked out the front window. Jillian slipped on her sunglasses, walking toward Cage’s old black pickup. It was the first time AJ had seen her in jeans. Jeans that hugged her curves a little too much and black leather boots.

Cage held up one finger and jogged back to the house as AJ ended his call. “Forgot my phone.” He took the stairs two at a time.

AJ endured the excruciating pain of the sun to go have a few words with Jillian who was waiting in the truck.

“Sarge,” she said, looking not the least bit surprised to see him as he opened the door. “Playing hooky today?” She eyed him in his casual attire.

“I told you to stay away from Cage.”

“Don’t sweat it, the only thing I’ll be mounting today is my Sportster SuperLow.” Jillian applied lipgloss in the visor mirror. “And even that ride will be cut short since I’m watching Lilith this afternoon.”

“He’s…” AJ grimaced while bowing his head and clenching one hand on each side “…just … a boy.” The Advil wasn’t touching the pain and his coffee threatened to come up as a wave of nausea hit him.

Jillian flipped up the visor. “He’s a young man and—” She looked over at AJ. “Are you okay?”

AJ hissed in a breath as he clenched his jaw. Jillian unbuckled and turned toward him, resting her hands over his. “AJ?”

He held his breath, fighting to keep the nausea at bay, not wanting to vomit or pass out. Jillian slowly wedged her hands under his and with a pressure that wasn’t normal for a woman’s hands, she massaged his head, thumbs digging into his temples with small circles. He left his hands resting over hers as he moaned like a wounded animal.

“Migraine?”

“Yes,” he seethed against the pain.

She continued to massage his head and as much as he wanted to fight it, he let his body begin to relax into hers. The pain was still murderous, but the nausea started to subside.

“Dad?”

AJ jerked away from Jillian and the sudden movement shot daggers through his brain. “Fuck!” He squeezed his eyes shut and stumbled toward the house.

“Here’s some money and a list of things I need from Home Depot for Dodge and Lilith’s bathroom. I’ve got your dad.” She caught up to AJ and wrapped an arm around his waist, guiding him into the house.

“What about your motorcycle?” Cage called.

“Another day.” Jillian helped AJ down the hall.

“Go … I don’t want your help.” Pain bled from his voice, intensified by the humiliation he felt having Jillian help him. How could a fucking headache turn into such a degrading moment?

“Shut up.” Jillian pushed him past his bed into the master bathroom, leaving the lights off. The glass block window allowed enough light to see.

AJ had a large tiled walk-in shower and she turned it on to hot.

“Go,” it came out as a desperate plea.

“No.” Jillian wrestled his shirt off.

The unbearable pulsing in his head rendered him incapable of fighting her any longer. She pulled down his pants and helped him step out of them. Then, leaving his briefs on, she nudged him toward the shower.

“Sit.”

He stepped inside and slid down the wall, knees bent, head cradled in his hands as the nearly scalding water rained down on his head. AJ wasn’t sure if it was the pain of the hot water distracting him from his head, but within seconds he could breathe again. The throbbing eased to just bearable.

Jillian toed off her boots and removed her clothes, leaving on her bra and panties. No one had ever taken care of AJ like that before. His voice caught in his throat, trapped by confusion. He wanted her to leave, but needed her to stay. As if defying a law of nature, his body shivered when she kneeled before him, squeezing between his knees and taking his head in her strong, capable hands. He rested his forehead on her chest as she pressed her fingers into his scalp, magically landing on every pressure point.

“Feel good?” she whispered so close he felt her lips brush his ear.

“Yes,” he breathed out on a slow sigh.

Jillian worked one area, then made a slight shift finding more points that eased the pain. Her fingers kneaded their way down the back of his head, putting firm pressure with small upward strokes at his nape. He moaned and she continued to his shoulders, digging into tight knots of tension.

“God …” he breathed.

She rested her cheek on his head, and he swallowed a large gulp of ego, confusion, and a shitload of garbage from his fucked-up past. They stayed resting on each other until the water faded to warm.

“You’re running out of hot water.”

For the first time since she stepped in the shower, AJ opened his eyes and slowly lifted his head. Surprised and relieved that the pain was nearly gone.

Jillian stared expressionless with rivulets of water racing down her face, lips parted. AJ’s eyes homed in on a single bead of water on her neck. He watched it make a leisurely descent to the swell of her breast. His gaze flicked to hers for a split second before finding that drop again. He leaned in until his lips pressed to her wet flesh, his tongue capturing that single drop.

Her breath hitched. AJ lingered, his hands resting on her legs.

“I’m soaked and Dodge is expecting me by noon.”

AJ nodded, keeping his head down.

She stood and offered her hand. He took it and let her help him up, pausing a moment to gather his bearings.

“Okay?”

He nodded. She grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her body, then grabbed another and dried him off.

“You might need some dry underwear.” She smiled and handed him the towel.

AJ relinquished a small grin that felt foreign to his lips and wrapped the towel around his waist. He collapsed on his bed, completely exhausted. Migraines drained all of his energy. After a long sigh he opened his eyes capturing Jillian in the bathroom with her back to him. She unhooked her bra setting it on the vanity. Then she removed her wet panties. He had never seen the human body in such perfect form.

She stepped into her jeans and glanced back. He held her gaze without apology. Jillian wasn’t embarrassed, or angry. She looked … sad. Turning back around she finished pulling on her jeans, shoving her feet into her boots at the same time. He closed his eyes. Nothing about the morning felt like reality to him in that moment.

When the edge of his bed dipped, he opened his tired eyes again. Jillian traced the pad of her thumb over his eyebrow.

“What does AJ stand for?” she whispered.

He closed his eyes again. “Why do you live with your brother?”

He felt her lips curl into a smile as she pressed them to his forehead. “Feel better, Sarge.”

J
illian sneaked in
the garage door. There was a car in their driveway which meant Jackson was in the middle of a lesson. She tiptoed to her room trying to avoid the two creaky spots on the wood floor.

“Is it raining?”

She jumped, whipping around. “Jesus! You scared me.”

“Jackson, not Jesus. Why is your hair wet?” He looked at her hand. “And why are you carrying your undergarments instead of wearing them?”

“Where’s your student?”

“Bathroom. Are you going to answer me?” He crossed his arms over his chest.

“Are you seriously wearing those stupid glasses?”

Jackson pressed his finger to the white taped bridge of his black
nonprescription
glasses. “They make me look professional.”

“Pfft, they make you look like something for sure, but professional is not the word.” She turned, heading to her closet.

“Jill—”

“Yes, it rained,” she hollered. “One of those pop-up storms. I saw it on the horizon so I pulled over and stripped down to my bra and panties so my clothes wouldn’t get wet. You know what a pain in the ass it can be trying to peel off wet denim. I dressed again in the garage when I noticed you had a student.”

“Screwing AJ is a bad idea.” He peeked his head into her closet as she shrugged off her shirt.

Jillian covered her breasts with one arm and tossed her shirt at his face with a menacing scowl. “I’m not screwing AJ. But if I were, I’m quite certain it would be the best idea I’ve had since we landed in this whole big mess.”

“Jackson?” a female voice called.

He adjusted his glasses. “We’re not done talking about this.”

Jillian rolled her eyes after he left. She had done a good deed that morning, one that warranted a merit badge not an interrogation.

By the time she dried her hair and donned new undergarments she found herself skidding onto Dodge’s front step at exactly noon. She would have been there sooner had Stan not stopped her to talk about the upcoming board meeting that he thought she should attend. There was an open spot for Treasurer and he’d asked if she was good with numbers. Jillian shrugged and said she was competent in basic math skills. That was all he needed to hear and somehow she got the impression the job was already hers. Just what she needed: another job.