Middle of Knight

by Jewel E. Ann

  They both laughed.

  “I’m scared, Val.”

  She grabbed Ryn’s hand. “He’s not Preston and you’re no longer that woman.”

  “I know, but he’s still alive and in my life because of Maddie. Even after all these years I swear he’s still messing with my mind. I second-guess everything, including what I want. I’m forty, for God’s sake. I should know what I want by now, but I don’t because somewhere along the way I lost a piece of myself. And because of Maddie I feel this incredible guilt like regretting Preston means I regret Maddie.”

  “Ryn?”

  She took a cleansing breath, ashamed those words even came out of her mouth. “What?”

  “If being somebody’s wife again or having another baby is even a one percent chance in your mind, then get the guy. Suck him—pun totally intended—for all he’s willing to give you and then…” Val winked “…give him to me.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Day

  Jones looked at Luke. Luke looked at Jones. Neither would concede that the other deserved to be in the dog house. As Luke’s gaze drifted to the fourth empty Heineken bottle hanging from his loose grip, he felt fairly certain the mutt would be sleeping in his spot that night.

  Francesca needed a heart transplant or she would die. He remembered the days when he would have given her the heart from his own chest. Those days were gone and his heart left a few hours earlier to go for a bike ride. Even four beers in before one o’clock on a Saturday, Luke knew with every bit of his existence that Jessica Day was meant to be with him.

  Somewhere along the way he unintentionally convinced her she needed him. Every day he wondered what would happen to them if she realized he needed her more. Beneath all the pain, the regret, the blood, the deaths … Jessica Day was a survivor. It’s not what she did, it’s who she was, and nobody could touch that part of her: not Four, not Matthew Green, and not Dr. Jones.

  He closed his eyes and an hour later, which felt like two seconds, the door opened. The sweat-soaked body of the woman who carried his heart like a torch walked to the kitchen and filled a large glass with icy water from the refrigerator door. She didn’t acknowledge him. He couldn’t blame her. Some strange and completely irrational part of his mind wanted her to be pissed at him. Jessica could never be ordinary and he accepted that—a sick part of him even loved that about her—but just for one moment he wanted the Jessica that showed she had a jealous side.

  “I don’t want you to be a martyr.”

  She turned with narrowed eyes, wiping her mouth along the back of her hand. “You assume I’m suffering somehow?”

  Moving his empty bottle like a pendulum, he clenched his teeth but the words still came out. “My ex-fiancée is dying and you tell me to go see her.”

  Jessica set her empty glass on the counter. “She’s not necessarily dying.”

  “It doesn’t matter. That’s not the point.”

  “O-kay … so tell me what is the point?”

  Luke slammed the bottle onto the coffee table then tugged at his hair. “The point is you should be concerned that my going to see Fran could stir up emotions from my past. That … that seeing her in such a helpless state could cause me to leave you to be by her side because I might think she needs me more than you do.”

  “Whoa … how many beers have you had?”

  He didn’t answer, choosing instead to stare at the floor, breathless with anger. Anger about what? He wasn’t sure.

  “Jesus, Luke. I was jealous of slutty Lickey, and then your lunch date in Tahoe before I knew it was with your sister. But that was when I didn’t know how you felt about me. That was before you promised that someday you’d beg me to marry you. That was before you asked me and Jones to move in with you. If something has changed, then now would be a good time to confess. Otherwise, I’m not going to be jealous of your ex-fiancée, who may or may not be dying, unless you keep saying shit about seeing her and it stirring up emotions that would make you leave me.”

  “I’m not leaving you.” It was the truth, but he still couldn’t look at her. Jessica’s sharp perception would’ve seeped through his vulnerability until everything came crashing down.

  “Go see her, Luke.”

  *

  After sobering up, Luke apologized to Jessica for his reaction to the morning’s events. It came as no surprise that she forgave him. In spite of her past, which included killing someone with a knife, Luke knew she was the better person. If she were him, she would have already packed her bags and been on a plane to Scottsdale.

  Instead, after a week of an awkward existence as roommates, the kind that didn’t have sex and gave each other polite smiles in passing, they packed up the essentials and Jones, then drove to Tahoe to spend the weekend with Luke’s family. It may have been a cowardly move, but he decided they needed a change in scenery to bring Jessica out of her withdrawn state. Of course he didn’t let her drive, but she didn’t ask either. However, the death-look, that he’d come to know all too well, stuck to her face the entire way there. At one point when they stopped to let Jones do his thing, he almost handed her the keys. Almost.

  “Tell me why you’re mad.”

  Jessica coughed a throaty chuckle. “We’re twenty minutes from your parents’ place and you want to have a conversation based on your assumption that I’m mad?”

  “Are you not?”

  “No. I’m not mad.”

  An interesting thing about medical school and specializing in psychiatry was the lack of information about the intricate workings of the female mind. Unfortunately, he proved to be his biggest obstacle. The change in their relationship stemmed from the Fran revelation. It made no sense why she would really want him to go visit Fran, but with each passing day filled with her withdrawn attitude and kissing Jones more than him, it became quite clear that’s exactly what she expected him to do.

  “Then why haven’t we …” Sex. He wanted to know why they hadn’t had sex. No amount of education, plaques on the wall, or professional accolades could completely hide the man behind the doctor.

  “Why haven’t we …?”

  “Exercised.”

  Dr. Jones went MIA whenever Luke tried to have a conversation that involved their relationship.

  “Exercised? Well, I don’t know why we haven’t exercised, but I’ve been doing it every day while you’ve been stuck at your office ‘catching up on dictation’ until after dinner most nights. Jude’s been quite happy that I’ve been available to spar almost every night.”

  Luke had been at his office with legitimate work to do, but nothing that he couldn’t have done at home. Dr. Jones would have made the brilliant assessment that Luke had been avoiding not only Jessica but Fran and his past too. The woman beside him possessed too much intelligence to dismiss the reaction he had to the news of Fran.

  Since she and Jones moved in with him, Jessica had adopted Luke’s healthy way of sleeping in the nude. He’d been living with live porn. There wasn’t a guy in the world that would not have envied the sight that greeted him every night when he walked out of the bathroom: sexy naked woman on the bed, knees bent, legs spread wide, one hand rolling a nipple between two fingers, the other hand circling her glistening clitoris. Jessica needed sex before she could settle into a good sleep. Luke always obliged her. During the five days of her menstrual cycle, she’d join him in the shower, but never did they go without it.

  Until …

  “Sex. Fine. I said it. We haven’t had it since the whole Fran thing. You’ve been wearing a full suit of armor to bed every night.”

  “A full suit of armor?” After hours of nothing but her side profile as she stared out the back window, because, yes, she was sitting in the back seat with Jones, Jessica relinquished a wide-eyed look in the rearview mirror at Luke. “Your definition of a full suit of armor is a tank top and panties?”

  Years of practiced patience and complete self-control had given Dr. Jones the reputation of having an unbreakable focus—until Jes
sica Day. She could bring Hercules to his knees with words alone.

  “Everything is relative, Jessica. So yes, going from masturbating in the nude on my bed to a tank top and panties, curled into fetal position with your eyes closed, would be equivalent to a full suit of armor.”

  With an easy nod, lips twisted, she turned back toward the window. “Interesting.”

  The steering wheel vibrated beneath his white-knuckled fists. His mother’s keen observation skills would have him under interrogation within minutes of arriving if he didn’t get things worked out in the next five minutes. No pressure.

  A mile from their house he down shifted and pulled to the side of the road. Amber eyes met his in the mirror again.

  “I’m going to let you drive the rest of the way.” As sure as her naked body distracted him, he knew his GTO would erase whatever grudge she’d been holding.

  Luke grinned as she opened the door, but it quickly faded when she hooked Jones’s leash to his collar. “What are you doing?”

  “Come, baby,” she said, leading Jones along the side of the road.

  “Jess … I’m letting you drive my GTO.”

  “Pfft…” she kept walking “…letting me drive down a road that won’t take it out of second gear is a fucking insult and you know it.”

  *

  Asshole. The good doctor didn’t want to be called Jones. Well Jessica decided he wasn’t worthy of the biblical name, Luke, either. Asshole seemed much more fitting as she walked the last mile to Felicity and Tom’s house. She really hadn’t been mad at him. Luke loved Fran at one time and she knew he loved too hard to just let all those feelings vanish. Four bottles of Heineken proved it. Jessica would never find complete closure while Matthew Green still drew air in his lungs, but Luke could find it with Fran.

  However, the humming idle of the GTO crawling behind them … that made her mad. The “full suit of armor” was a sign of respect, an understanding that Luke needed time to work through his feelings about the news of Fran. Sex was Jessica’s drug of choice to drown out painful emotions, but it had always been temporary. She didn’t want to be Luke’s drug, even if he was hers. If Dr. I-don’t-have-to-admit-I-have-human-emotions Jones wanted to psychoanalyze their sex life, then she had only two words: game on.

  “Jessica!” Felicity called from the front porch.

  Jessica held out her hand to block the setting sun. Jones bucked against his leash, going into his spastic mode. New people with high-pitched voices had him going berserk like a dog on speed. Her arm worked best in its socket so she released the leash about twenty yards from the porch and prayed Felicity was a dog person who didn’t mind the occasional tackle and a lick down equivalent to a carwash.

  “Jess?” Luke grabbed her arm before she reached the porch.

  She turned, ripping her arm from his grasp. “Asshole.”

  Luke sighed. A look of defeat stole his beautiful features. “Please don’t.”

  “Don’t what?”

  “Don’t do this in front of my parents.”

  “Why can’t we just be ourselves with your parents, huh? Why do we always need a plan or script?”

  “We don’t. I’m just saying—”

  “Good.” Jessica turned and marched to the porch. “Hi, Felicity.” They embraced.

  “Hi, honey. How’s my boy treating you?”

  “He’s whining about not getting enough sex and he’s jerking around my emotions for his car … but other than that, I can’t complain.”

  “Oh for God’s sake,” Luke mumbled, taking the last step to the porch.

  Felicity released Jessica then gave Luke a firm, motherly glare. “Sounds like his dad. When Tom had that car he never let me drive it. Not. Once. And don’t even get me started on the whole sex deprivation speech.”

  “My over-educated son should know better than to bring a bitter woman to spend the weekend with his mom.” Tom pushed open the screen door.

  Felicity turned, lifting onto her toes to give Tom a quick kiss. “You know I’m a peacemaker.”

  He hugged her. “Except when you’re stirring the pot.” Tom smacked her ass.

  Luke rolled his eyes, proving even grown children get embarrassed with their parents’ PDA.

  “We have two other couples staying this weekend, so I have you both in the purple room. That is … if you’re still okay sleeping in the same bed?”

  “We’re fine, Mom.” Luke slung both bags over his shoulder and grabbed Jessica’s hand, dragging her toward the stairs.

  “Dinner’s in an hour, lovebirds. So get your kissing and making up done before then. Tom will take Jones for a walk.”

  Jessica squeezed Luke’s hand so hard he grunted by the time they reached the purple room. Releasing both her and the bags, he shut the door. The pleading look of a truce or forgiveness he’d given her just moments earlier had been replaced with a look of rage. Other women would have cowered to such an intimidating glare, but not Jessica. It turned her on because truthfully she did need sex with Luke. She craved it more than food and some days more than air.

  “Take off your clothes, now.”

  A smirk played along her lips. She loved it when Luke went all alpha on her. Even she’d been shocked how much she loved submitting to him. Some days it felt like a need, a confirmation that he was the one person she could trust with every part of her being. He promised surrendering to him would give her the greatest sense of control. And he was right, but not on that particular day.

  When her clothes were nothing more than a pool of cotton on the floor, she stepped toward him, shoving him back on the bed. His eyes grew wide for a second before narrowing into dark pools of blue ink. He started to sit up as she straddled his legs.

  She shook her head, shoving him back again. “You know I love every inch of your hard, lean, muscled flesh. And your mind … God I love your mind. But you know what I’ve come to love most about you, Dr. Jones?”

  He swallowed hard as she positioned her knees on either side of his head.

  “Your mouth.”

  Luke dug his fingers into her hips, pulling her down to him.

  “Fuck,” she yelled as he parted her with one slow stroke of his tongue. Who was she kidding? It had been too long and she wasn’t going to last long with his greedy tongue spearing into her then lapping over her clitoris. The goal was to take what she needed then leave him. Desperate. Blue-balled. Angry.

  She was on top in a place of control, yet every ounce of it began to slip.

  “Pinch your nipples,” he said with each word vibrating against her hypersensitive sex that felt seconds from exploding.

  “No.” She shook her head. He wasn’t in charge, she was. Her terms. Her control. It was his lesson, not hers.

  He turned his head and bit the inside of her leg.

  “Ow!”

  “Pinch. Your. Fucking. Nipples.”

  Like a dog chasing a rabbit, all she could think about was the orgasm. It was so close yet just out of reach. He wasn’t going to win, but as a trade for the release she needed so desperately, she cupped her breasts, pinching her nipples. It felt good but not enough to push her over the edge.

  “Luke …” She couldn’t remember when his hands left her hips, but it didn’t matter. She lowered to his face again, but he just kept kissing and nipping at her inner thigh. “Luke …” Begging was not part of the plan. He would pay for making her beg—just as soon as he put his mouth back where she needed it. One more slow lick and she’d be there.

  “Oh … fuck … fuck … fuck …” His eyes rolled back in his head.

  “What the …” she stilled, staring at him. Luke had the look, made the sound. Jessica looked over her shoulder.

  “You did not—”

  “Oh you bet your sexy ass I did. Now up you go.” He lifted her off him and sat up, wadding the front of his cum-covered shirt before pulling it over his head and tucking himself back into his jeans. “I’ll grab a clean shirt and give you a few minutes to … finish up.” He
smirked while zipping his jeans.

  Jessica’s urge to make Luke bleed had been in remission until that moment. A broken nose and busted testicle seemed like the most fitting punishment.

  “Oh…” he stopped at the door after shrugging on a clean shirt “…you have my permission to tell my mom that you’re pissed at me because I wouldn’t let you ride my face to the finish.”

  “Asshole.”

  “I adore you too.” Luke shut the door.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Knight

  Lilith respected Jillian’s wish to not talk about AJ, yet she knew if—when—he died she’d know. Even if Lilith and Dodge didn’t say anything, Jillian knew Cage or AJ’s parents would contact her. Missing two men who were still alive felt like a knife continuing to carve at the empty cavity that once housed her heart.

  Luke. She imagined him with someone else by then, maybe even in love. He deserved that. The part of her that wanted that for him felt equally loving and masochistic.

  AJ. No news was good news, unless he suffered. Jillian couldn’t go there.

  Radiation.

  Seizures.

  Migraines.

  Memory loss.

  It was too much—until she received a text that crippled her emotions to the point of questioning her own will to survive.

  Sarge: Fly to Portland and rent a car. Then wait for my instructions. But DO NOT come to my parents’ house.

  “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Jackson said as he climbed the last step, flinging his sweaty towel over his shoulder.

  Jillian nodded, eyes fixed to her phone.

  “Shit. Not another message.”

  She shook her head slowly.

  “Then what?” He slipped her phone out from her hand. “No.” He handed it back to her then brushed past her to the kitchen.

  “I have to go,” she whispered, feeling dazed and maybe a little in shock.

  “No way. Need I remind you what happened the last time you made a trip to the West Coast?”

  “He needs me.”

  “So do I.” Jackson chugged back a glass of water.