End of Day (Jack & Jill 1)

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.”