End of Day (Jack & Jill 1)

“So,” she whispered.

He ducked to her neck and teased his lips along her skin, landing on her ear. “So, a kiss is an RSVP to your vagina that says: I. Will. Be. There.”

The sandwich in her hands fell to the ground as her heart stopped and all the air evaporated from her lungs.

“Close your eyes.”

Jessica blinked. It was the only part of her body that could move.

“I said … Close. Your. Eyes.”

She did and he kissed her cheek. “Good girl. Now don’t open them until I say.”

She nodded. “I don’t like surprises.”

“It’s not a surprise.”

“Then why do I have to keep my eyes closed?” She shivered feeling his nearness again.

“It’s therapy.”

“Are you going to hypnotize me?”

“No.”

“Have you done this before?”

“No.”

“Have any of your fellow shrinks?”

He chuckled. “I highly doubt it.”

“Then how do you know it will work?”

“Shh … we’re done talking.” He kissed her the same way he had before—patient yet commanding, never letting her take more until he was ready to give it.

She gasped for air when he released her mouth. He brushed his thumb over her breast, pebbling her nipple beneath the thin material of her dress and lace bra. Then his hand slid lower. She reached for him.

He tsked her several times. “You can touch anything … but me.”

“Luke,” she pleaded, squeezing her eyes shut even tighter while balling her fists at her sides. “I can’t do this.”

His hand slid between her legs and her breath caught in her chest as her nails made claim to her palms.

“Do you want me here?” He massaged her clit over the cotton skirt of her dress.

She jerked her hips toward him. “Y-yes.”

“What will you sacrifice to have me here?” He continued with firm small circles.

“Any-anything,” she breathed as her hips circled with his touch.

He kissed her again, easing her hands behind her back. She tensed a bit until his tongue dove deeper making her moan. He broke the kiss, leaving her feeling weak and dizzy. His tongue trailed down her neck.

“I want to taste you here.” His thumb brushed over her nipple.

“Yes …” she breathed.

“Then I want to taste you here.” He pressed harder against her clit until she whimpered.

“Luke … please …” Her hands clawed at his shirt.

He grabbed them, pushing them behind her back. They stared at each other—her breathless and fighting fear, him focused and taunting.

“Call me when you’re ready.” He pressed a soft kiss to her cheek before he released her wrists and walked out the door.

Once again, her mind was thoroughly fucked. That wasn’t the part of her body she’d hoped would feel thoroughly fucked when he left. If anything, yes, and please didn’t say she was ready, then what would?

Homing in on the black bag he left behind, she squatted down and unzipped it. “What the hell, Jones!”

Chapter Thirty

Knight

It rained for four hours straight when Jillian and AJ left his parents’ house in the truck. She was surprised that AJ let her drive, but after he slept for the first three hours it was obvious what a physical toll his migraine had been on his body.

“Hungry?” he asked as they stopped for gas and to switch drivers.

“Yes. You fill up and I’ll grab some grub.”

AJ nodded as he got out. Jillian used the bathroom and bought a variety of junk food. Climbing in the passenger seat, she handed him the bag.

“For Chrissake, you call this shit food?” He tossed the bag in her lap and started the truck.

“Uh … it’s a gas station not a farmer’s market.” She looked in the bag. “Peanuts?”

“Too much fucking salt.”

She mouthed a silent okay. “Twizzlers or M&Ms?”

“If I want to be a diabetic by the time we reach the next state.”

Jillian sighed. “Water?” She held up a bottle.

“You paid for bottled tap water?”

She gritted her teeth. “No … I paid for the bottle since we’re not camels.”

AJ shook his head, murmuring something indecipherable.

“Well, then you’re out of luck, buddy. Because all I have left to offer is a sack of suck your own nuts and a spray can of fuck off.”

Keeping out a bottle of water, she tossed the bag into the backseat, then she Googled PTSD on her phone. Her instinct was to beat the crap out of him, but he was driving so that seemed like a suicide mission. Instead, the confines of the truck held her captive to his abuse for the next several hours until they reached their hotel.

If there was a record for most car trips taken, least words spoken, then the Day/Knight duality that encompassed Jillian held the record. What was it with the ride home after meeting a guy’s parents for the first time?

They parked the truck for the night and checked in at the front desk of the hotel.

“Reservation for Monaghan.”

The lady behind the counter glanced at the computer screen. “Yes. Two double beds?”