End of Day (Jack & Jill #1) (9 page)

Jillian Knight could never surrender.

When Dr. Jones’s voice faded, all she could hear was her racing heart and shallow breath. The tension between Jillian and AJ could spark a blackout across Omaha. Her attraction to him was fueled by her past, but she couldn’t make sense of his unnerving mix of hate and desire, or maybe she could … she just didn’t want to.

As he held her hair tight, he lowered his lips towards her mouth. She inched her hands under his arms and up his back. There was nothing right about them. The distrust—thick. The fear—heavy. The sexual tension—suffocating.

There was no closing eyes and melting into a moment of passion.

He watched her. She watched him.

When their lips touched it went from soft to punishingly hard in an instant. Their tongues dueled like swords. Their lips vied for control. AJ jerked her ponytail back until she opened wider for him and with his other hand he gripped her ass like he was trying to rip through the denim. Jillian yanked the chain off his neck, letting it drop to the floor. Her hands made swift, precise moves with his belt. With one quick, forceful tug she snapped it completely out of the loops, a whip crack piercing the air.

It’s here
 … that voice.

AJ released her ass and cupped her jaw. His hand slid down to her neck and she could feel his fingers wrapping around, crushing her windpipe even though they were relaxed.

Fear.

It’s here
.

Jillian’s hands navigated to his back.
Don’t do it,
her mind chanted. But her fingernails curled into his flesh on their own accord. AJ dragged his hand from her neck to her chest between the exposed cleavage from her bikini top. She waited for him to push the material aside exposing her hardened nipples, but he didn’t. He left the heel of his hand pressed to her sternum. Her heart tried to beat it away, but he left it there until she swore she could feel his pulse surge against hers. Slipping … her control was slipping as the moment blurred into dizzying confusion.

“Fuck!” AJ growled as he shoved her back. “Knock that shit off!”

Stumbling to a halt, eyes wide, Jillian opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. Any other woman would have been flat on her back with the force he used on her. She looked down, twisting her palms up and fisting her fingers. Blood. Her nails were smeared with his blood. She closed her eyes for a brief moment.

“I-I have to get ready for work.” She smiled with childlike innocence as she wiped her fingers along her shorts, kissed him on the cheek like she didn’t just dig a garden into his back, then slipped out the side access door. “I go for a run every night at ten if you care to join me,” she called two seconds before the wind slammed the door shut behind her.

*

Jillian Knight brought
one thing with her that used to belong to Jessica Day—killer sales skills. The Lascivio consultant that “trained” Jillian at the bachelorette party found herself being schooled in the sales department. Jillian spent the whole night number crunching and making up statistics about nipple clamps and breast cancer prevention, vibrators and decreased yeast infections, and strap-on penises and longevity.

Her mentoring consultant sulked with guilt that she’d allowed Jillian to sell the products under such false pretense, until Jillian made a quick calculation of the commission that the party brought in: over twelve-hundred dollars.

“Hey, working girl! Did you bring home the bacon?” Jackson grinned as he finished playing a familiar Bach piece.

Jillian loved listening to him play. Part of it was envy because she didn’t inherit an ounce of musical talent, but most of it was honest adoration for his insane ability.

“Tempeh bacon, and no I didn’t bring it home, but Sara, the Lascivio consultant that ‘trained’ me, her family is celebrating bacon fest, thanks to yours truly.”

Jackson whistled.

Jillian shrugged, gulping down a glass of water. “Sex sells.”

“You, my dear sis, could sell purity rings and abstinence to pimps and call girls.”

“Speaking of call girls … what are you doing here anyway? Have you gotten laid since we arrived?”

Jackson closed the lid. “I think this Jackson guy is going to keep his virginity for a while.”

“Excuse me?”

“How many people get the chance to start over from scratch? Very few. So I’m saving myself. Maybe I’ll find some nice girl who’s not a virgin and would be willing to teach me about sex and intimacy.”

“You fucked half the West Coast!”

“I don’t know what guy to whom you’re referring.”

Jillian shook her head while unbuttoning her white blouse. “I’m going to change. I need a run and an escape from this impostor who claims to be my brother.”

“No sparring tonight?”

“Maybe when I get back.”

“You’re just upset that I’m making a change for the better, a true fresh start.”

Jillian stopped in the hallway. His words, even if not intentional, were a jab to her gut. “Here’s the thing … I had it as good as it gets. I have nowhere to go but worse.” She shrugged off her shirt and tossed it onto her bed.

“Let’s talk about it.” Jackson stood at her door while she changed in her closet.

“I can’t talk about it with you.”

Jackson chuckled. “I’m the
only
person with whom you can talk about it.”

Lilith. She couldn’t wait to be with her again because she was the one person Jillian could tell about her past without putting her safety in jeopardy and without judgement.

“If I tell you how painfully hollow I feel inside because I miss Luke and Jones, then you’re going to rationalize everything, reminding me that we had no choice. If we wanted to live we had to leave. Then you’re going to pour on the guilt about how I have you and how our bond is stronger than anything.”

Jillian came out of the closet with the posture of a rag doll as she sat on the edge of the bed to tie her running shoes. Truth—every breath was a silent whisper of gratitude to her brother. She knew she was alive because he saved her time and time again.

“But right now I don’t want to be rational and, I don’t want to feel guilty. I just want to wallow in my misery of missing them.” She sighed with defeat etched in lines across her face. “Strength acknowledges weakness, it doesn’t ignore it.” She stood, looking up at her brother, no longer trying to hide the agony in her eyes. “For now I’m going to acknowledge it and later I will be stronger for it. Okay?”

Jackson nodded then pulled her into his arms. “Fin de journée.”

“I know—fin de journée.”

*

Jillian slipped in
one earbud; she still couldn’t do both at night. Surrendering to the unknown wasn’t possible yet, maybe ever. The pulsing music opposite the quiet darkness of abandoned streets and sleeping dogs was a needed escape from the cacophony of morning chaos that Jackson preferred when he jogged.

The cooler evening breeze, the grinding beat, her past, and the nagging fascination of a certain uniformed neighbor fed the surging energy inside her, propelling her legs to the point of exhaustion. Her lungs stretched to capacity, a simmering burn in her chest. The only thing that moved faster than Jillian’s legs was her mind. It was an endless loop of the last ten years of her life playing in a roller coaster highlight reel: the drizzle of mist from the fog rolling in over the bay, the doctor, the dog. She missed it all.

After five miles of pure adrenaline-fed exertion, Jillian laced her fingers on top of her head and walked in slow circles on their driveway.

“It’s probably not safe for you to be running by yourself at night.”

Jillian mustered a small smirk with her back to AJ. She’d seen him in the shadows of his front stoop when she jogged the last few feet to her house. She was trained to notice everything and everyone, but she wasn’t in a hurry to acknowledge him. Her thoughts of Luke, Jones, and the normalcy she’d lost had left her feeling melancholy. As much as she loved playing cat and mouse with AJ, her inner fight was gone that night.

“Yeah, well I think you have a scar on your lip and fresh branding on your back that says otherwise.” She turned as he stepped into view under the moonlight.

It had only been hours since she’d seen him, but he looked different. It may have been the dark whiskers surfacing along his strong jaw or maybe his casual attire of shorts and a T-shirt, or the absence of his usual scowl, but something about him made Jillian’s guard slip.

“This thing…” he motioned between them before shoving his hands in his pockets “…it’s not a good thing. Cage is coming home tomorrow and I don’t want him to think anything is going on between us.”

Jillian gave careful consideration to her response because while AJ’s mouth said one thing, his eyes said the opposite. They lingered on her bare legs then her exposed abs below her sports bra. He must have swallowed after every third word. She craved intimacy, to the point of feeling a physical pain inside, from nothing more than the way his gaze traversed her body.

You miss me
 … She heard Luke’s voice in her head.
More than my heart would miss its beat
, she thought, closing her eyes for a brief moment before letting his image fade from her mind.

L
iving through the
trauma was easier than reliving it … Every. Single. Day. AJ counted himself lucky for having served so many years, seen so many things that no one should ever have to endure, and yet he made it home to his family. Many of his comrades did not. He played the part of the grateful soldier who served his country, then slipped back into the role of husband and father. If only that would have been the case, the truth. But it wasn’t.

His PTSD took its time lurking in the distance, waiting to strike like a battalion waiting command. And when it did, he lost his wife, the man he was, the father he wanted to be—his whole world. The worst part was the unpredictability of it. Some days he felt like the victim of dissociative identity disorder. Nearly every woman he’d tried to be with since his wife left because after a few dates they caught a glimpse of the man he’d become.

The half-pint of solid muscle that stood before him with a dewy sheen of sweat kissing every inch of her silky skin stirred something inside him. Jillian Knight was clearly a hundred ways of fucked-up, and the warning sirens blared in AJ’s head every time he neared her proximity, but he was deaf to their warning.

Jillian was either fearless or scared to the point of ruthless insanity. Either way, AJ wanted nothing more than to exhale … relinquish control, and let her see the monster inside. Beat him, break him, destroy him, and maybe in the wreckage find the man he used to be. But he had a son and for once in his life he was determined to put him first, no matter the cost. Cage was the only thing AJ had left that was worth fighting for, even if the protector was also the enemy.

Jillian tugged at her ponytail until her sweaty platinum blond hair fell in tangled waves around her shoulders. “What is this
thing
, AJ?” She stepped closer until there were no more steps to take. Personal space was not something she acknowledged with him.

His hands twitched, desperate to clutch her hair and pull those pouty lips to his. He knew their seductive taste, their arousing touch, and their demanding control.

“Dangerous,” he whispered. His fingers grazed the line of her jaw. She closed her eyes. With firm pressure, he dragged his thumb along her bottom lip. A storm raged inside that left him teetering on a razor’s edge of control.

On an exhale, her body froze at attention with the exception of her chest that heaved with building intensity every second his touch lingered. She parted her lips and he slid the end of his thumb over her bottom teeth. He swallowed and suppressed a guttural moan when she flicked the tip of her tongue against him. The hard pulse of his erection grew torturous.

AJ knew what was coming, but some alien masochistic part of him needed it to justify the moment he willingly gave in to. Like an angry serpent, he hissed when Jillian clenched her jaw, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he curled his thumb until she released him. There was no blood, but the deep indents of her front teeth were molded into the pad of his thumb, and he felt confident his nail would be black and blue within days.