Middle of Knight (Jack & Jill 2)

“Preparation?”

His interest in her should have been flattering, but it wasn’t because he was ten years younger and he was a guy. He could never understand the emotional barricades she had to overcome with her own insecurities … insecurities brought to the surface because he was ten years younger and looked like sex personified. Even if she were his age, his interest in her would be hard to believe and still unnerving.

“Yes, my body requires more maintenance than yours for it to look and run right.” Her breasts had been held hostage in a compression sports bra all day and they were going to look like roadkill when she removed it. Every woman who has worn one knows about this horrific side effect. They would require a very cold shower to perk up a little and convince her nipples it was safe to come out. Then there was the small issue of grooming. She had pubic hair—not too common anymore. There stood a good chance that Jackson had never actually seen pubic hair on a woman. It was bushy … very bushy.

“I’ll wait.”

“Wait, what do you mean wait?”

He made a shooing motion with his hand. “Go prepare, come back downstairs, then we’ll go back upstairs and shower together.”

“That makes no sense. I’ll have already showered.”

“Well then when do men shower with you? Apparently not when you need a shower nor when you’ve just had a shower.”

Most. Bizarre. Conversation. Ever … times one hundred.

“Men don’t shower with me.”

“Ever? You’ve never showered with a man?”

Was that so strange?

“No. Why are we having this conversation?”

“You started it.”

“Wh—I did not!”

“Fine.” He took two long strides. Palming the back of her head, he kissed her.

It wasn’t a peck or a partial kiss like before, it was the full kiss—the kind meant for tasting, not just feeling. The kind where his tongue couldn’t get enough of her. She could have faded into the moment had she not thought about the egg salad she just ate, her breasts trapped beneath a heavy layer of cotton and spandex, and the bush overgrowth—a visual chastity belt.

“No!” She wriggled from his embrace as his hand went for her breast—her squashed, speed bump uniboob.

“Sorry.” He held his hands up while pulling his brows together as if he’d stepped on her toe. “Too fast. I-I’m sorry.”

“No, not too fast …” She put her hands over her face, shaking her head. “God, does that make me sound easy or what? Sorry, I’m really not good at this.” On a deep sigh, her hands fell from her face. “If you let me shower, alone, I promise to return as the much more put-together version of myself. Deal?”

The smile on his face held so much promise, but his eyes filled with expectation. Expectation that on her best day after hours of cosmetic surgery, and a lobotomy to erase the memories of her past, she could never live up to.

*

Gunner wasted no time earning Jackson’s respect. While Ryn threw together the best version of herself, which he deemed ridiculous because it was impossible to improve on stunning, Gunner stood guard at the bottom of the stairs looking at Jackson with an I’ll-tear-you-apart look on his face.

The second Jackson started to move, either toward the window or the kitchen, Gunner gave him a warning growl. There would be no snooping through Ryn’s things on Gunner’s watch.

“Better?” Ryn smiled as she came down the stairs wearing a long black and gray striped skirt with a red sleeveless top.

“Clearly you don’t understand what draws me to you, but I can see you feel more confident in that.”

She frowned.

The guy who never slept with the same person twice wasn’t good at the emotional side of relationships. For years it had been his opinion that women’s clothes were nothing more than expensive wrapping paper.

New guy.

New opinions. What opinions? He wasn’t sure yet, but something told him women like Ryn didn’t have sex in alleys, and they needed constant reinforcement in the form of compliments—compliments beyond “I want to stick my dick in you.” So he reached into his magic hat and pulled out something that had nothing to do with sex.

“I’ll start with your lips. Even now when you tried to frown, one side stayed curled into a smile. It’s like your body rejects sadness.”

She stopped at the bottom step, paralyzed by his words.

“Then there are your freckles that give your face this rare innocence. And I would stare at them all day if your eyes weren’t so greedy. They demand my attention all the time.”

Ryn rubbed her lips together. “My eyes are greedy?”

“Yes, you should really be ashamed of them. Total attention hogs. But my point is really that I don’t care what you’re wearing. It doesn’t change what I’m looking at.”

“Oh …” she released a long breath “…wow, that’s … we should go for drinks. I think I need some liquid courage to respond to your comments that really leave me … speechless.”