End of Day (Jack & Jill 1) - Page 23
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.
Chapter Ten
Living 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.
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