Middle of Knight (Jack & Jill 2)

“I didn’t know you were a morning person.”

She smiled. “I’m not. I just couldn’t sleep … a lot on my mind.” Her smile faded at him fully dressed. “You don’t have to go. I made coffee and I’ll make you breakfast.”

He stopped a few feet in front of her chair with his thumbs hooked into his back pockets. “I need a run and a shower.”

She nodded. “Can I make you dinner tonight?” Maybe something on her foodie board would actually come to fruition in her kitchen.

His lack of an immediate answer opened the door for doubt to creep into the mind of a woman who struggled to stay afloat in the pool of insanity. Perhaps he regretted something or everything. Setting her computer on the ottoman, she stood, keeping the blanket wrapped around her.

“If you think my cooking sucks maybe you should just tell me now so I can yell at you, nurse my wounded ego for the day, and then we can make up later over takeout.”

He inched his head slowly side to side, a dark look filled his eyes. Ryn recognized it. It was the same look that had led to the roughest sex of her life on several occasions the previous week. It made her heart race like chased prey.

He sucked in his bottom lip and dragged it through his teeth, closing the distance between them. With one firm tug he ripped the blanket from her body. Palming the back of her head he kissed her. Just as she suspected, it was hard, demanding, and bruising her lips as his tongue filled her mouth. His other hand grabbed her ass so hard she whimpered from the pain, but she was too turned on by his kiss to make any further objection.

The moan from deep in his throat coupled with the bruises forming on her ass beneath his fingers led her to believe she could end up on the sofa with his dick shoving her tampon a mile up her vagina. It’s like he had an evil spirit possessing his body, and she wasn’t sure what triggered its presence.

She whimpered into his mouth again and he released her.

He nodded, resting his forehead on hers, completely breathless. “Yes. Dinner. Tonight.”

Ryn blinked, and blinked, and blinked some more as he walked out the door and to his car with a stiff gait, fists clenched.

Grimacing with a hiss of a breath, she rubbed her butt cheek. The wedding and babies were officially on a serious wait-and-see list.

Chapter Thirty-One

AJ wanted to go to Houston to meet up with an old air force buddy. When they arrived in town he didn’t remember making that suggestion or any buddy of his who lived in Houston. Jillian died a little in that moment. The great big world felt suffocating, crushing, and a little too much to bear on her own.

She needed the grumpy, regimented, reads-the-paper-cover-to-cover-every-morning neighbor who gave her a sense of control—but he was lost in the mere shell of a man that sat across from her, picking at his salad.

She needed the brilliantly focused, paranoid but often right, possessive-and-protective-to-the-extreme brother who gave her the strength to fight back when life felt like a candy-stealing bully—but he was losing his own sanity between the man who wanted to be a husband and a father and the man who felt the need to kill in the name of keeping twins buried six feet under in San Francisco.

Jillian jumped from the clang of AJ’s fork bouncing off the table and onto the floor. “I’ll get you another fork.”

“Jillian?” AJ rested both hands flat on the table, fingers spread, chin down, eyes closed.

“Are you okay?” She reached across the table and rested her hand on his.

His chest rose and fell in shallow breaths as he shook his head. He squeezed his eyes shut then opened them wide and squeezed them shut again.

“I can’t … I can’t see very well.”

She died a little more.

Swallowing past the lump in her throat, she gripped his hand and whispered, “Tell me what you want me to do.” She hoped he didn’t notice the tremble in her voice. “Do you want me to take you to the hospital?”

AJ shook his head, keeping his eyes closed, head bowed.

“I can get us a plane back to Portland. Maybe there’s something your doctors can do.”

Another slow head shake. “Take me back to the hotel.”

She nodded, but after a moment, reality hit her. He. Couldn’t. See. Her.

After pinning some cash under the napkin dispenser, she stood and walked around the table. She rested her hand on his shoulder as he slowly scooted his chair out and stood, bumping the edge of the table enough to knock over a water glass.

“Fuck.”

“It’s fine,” she whispered again, knowing her voice would shatter into an avalanche of emotions if she said too much.