His body was stone beneath hers as she moved her mouth back up his neck, slow and calculated like a wasp getting ready to sting. And that’s what she did. She flicked her tongue against his, then taking his lower lip between her teeth, she bit him—hard.
“Fuck!” Releasing her hips he brought his hand to his mouth.
Jillian stood, smiling as her tongue swept along her lips tasting his blood. It tasted like control. She wasn’t an animal—she was a survivor. It was a ridiculous justification, but it’s all she had. “My water’s probably cold. Show yourself out.”
Without so much as a curious glance back, she walked up the stairs, shed her robe, slipped back into the bubbly water, and gave herself the most explosive orgasm she’d had in too many months to count.
*
Smoke and rust. Jillian specifically told her ignoramus brother she wanted to paint the living room pewter and pumpkin.
“Close enough.” Jackson dipped the wooden stirrer into the thick, dark orange liquid.
“You’re such a guy,” she mumbled, arranging the drop cloths.
“Why the mood? I thought you were going to take a relaxing bath.”
“I did, but it got interrupted, and then I had to finish in lukewarm water.”
“Interrupted?”
Jillian bit back her grin. “Yes. Sarge.”
Jackson poured the paint into the roller pan. “What did he want?”
Twisted lips hid a dubious smile as her eyes rolled to the ceiling. “Hmm … let me think. He wanted to know where you were, and then he made the brilliant observation … well, at least I think it was an observation and not a question … that you are my brother.”
He glanced up, one eye squinted. “It’s pretty messed up that we let anyone believe it in the first place.”
She grinned. “Yes. But in our defense, we never told anyone we were married, and the truth is … we’re about as messed-up as they come.”
“So he came over just to let you know he’s on to us?”
“Not exactly. I think he was on a mission to solve a mystery.”
Jackson pulled off his T-shirt exposing his freakishly fit, tattooed torso that always seemed to clinch the deal when he wanted to get laid. “What mystery is that?”
“I think he wanted to see our downstairs wall to confirm we were the perpetrators that broke into his house. Apparently Betta fish don’t get along.”
Jackson rested his hands on his hips and leaned forward. “We? You broke into his house, and why the hell didn’t you replace the fish with the same type he had before?”
Jillian pinched her bottom lip between her thumb and forefinger. “I was tired, and hungover, and—”
“Stupid?”
“It was just a lapse in judgement. Sam Walton’s will do that to you.”
He handed her a beer, a paint brush, and a side of disapproving brotherly eye rolling. They tapped their bottles, cranked up the music, and attacked the white walls. By midnight they were delightfully buzzed, covered in paint—some of which did make it onto the walls—and ready to dive into the next color when the doorbell rang.
They shared blank stares, of course wondering if the doorbell did in fact ring or if their ears were as impaired as the rest of their bodies.
“Who could that be? Don’t these people go to bed by eight?” Jillian snickered.
Jackson lifted his shoulders then opened the door. “Hey, AJ. Is everything okay?”
Jillian peeked around Jackson. With wide, glassy eyes she checked out AJ’s swollen lip and small knot on his forehead. Hers was concealed by hair.
“No. Everything is not okay. It’s after midnight and you’ve had the music so fucking loud over here I can’t sleep!”
Jackson’s lips puckered into an O as he grimaced. “Sorry about that. I think we’re ready to call it a night.” He turned. “Right, Sis?”
Jillian’s wry grin was meant for Jackson, but AJ’s eyes narrowed into slits of displeasure as if they were making him the butt of their joke—and maybe they were. But even in her foggy, relaxed state, she couldn’t stop thinking about the heat from his lips, the taste of his tongue, and how his hands sliding up her bare legs took her halfway to her bathtub orgasm.
“Yes, we’re going to bed, but not together. We only do that on April 10, National Sibling Day. Oh and Twins Day, which is coming up sometime in August … I think. But it’s an unofficial day so we don’t always celebrate it.”
Jackson snorted out a laugh. “She’s full of shit.”
Jillian found her intoxicated eyes lingering on AJ’s bare feet and large defined calves. The right one had a serpent tattoo wrapped around it. She imagined tracing it with her tongue.
“I’m aware of that. Just try to be more respectful of the noise level.” AJ cleared his throat.
Jillian’s eyes flicked up to his, but his quickly cut to Jackson’s.
“Will do. Good night, AJ.” Jackson shut the door before AJ even turned away.