End of Day (Jack & Jill #1) by Jewel E. Ann Read Free Book Online

attempted to settle in Jillian Knight’s body would never have been able to sell sex toys. She knew the only people who required battery-operated plastic and silicon devices were lazy and unimaginative dolts who didn’t have a clue how to use their God-given parts for pleasure. If a guy wanted her restrained during sex, he would have to physically overpower her. But in the spirit of new beginnings, Jillian decided she’d sell sex toys better than the Pope sold religion.
    Jackson left to get paint and more alcohol. They both agreed when their new jobs started they would cut back on the booze and act like grownups again instead of college kids during rush week. Jillian took the opportunity to soak in the huge master bathroom tub, in need of some peace and quiet to reflect on her new life. Much to her aggravation, the doorbell rang just as she settled into the steamy abyss laced with her favorite fragrance: gardenia.
    “Go away,” she mumbled to herself with her head resting back, eyes closed.
    It rang again and again at more frequent intervals until she was ready to break the finger of the perpetrator. Go the fuck away!
    The water sloshed everywhere as she stepped out and wrapped a satin robe around her soap-slicked body, cinching the tie with a few expletives whispered to no one in particular, then slapped her wet feet against the hard floor to the front door.
    “What?” she answered, throwing open the door.
    For the second day in a row, AJ stood on her front door stoop wearing a pissed-off expression that somehow excluded his eyes, which took liberty with her body in ways that both exhilarated and frightened her. “How stupid do you really think I am?”
    Jillian narrowed her eyes, lips twisted to the side. “Well, given your high military ranking I would have said average to normal intelligence, but since you decided to incessantly ring my doorbell like a five-year-old doped up on sugar, I’m now inclined to say somewhere between borderline deficiency in intelligence and feeble-mindedness.”
    “I have an IQ of one-twenty-two. Where’s your husband ?” He stepped into the house, forcing Jillian to retreat.
    She loved watching his whole body tense as his strong chest heaved with each wrathful breath. “You tell me, Sherlock. Where is my husband ?” Jillian rooted herself in place. She vowed that no man was going to intimidate her, not ever again.
    AJ barged past her to the living room, then the bedrooms. Yet, somehow she knew he wasn’t looking for Jackson. A few minutes after he stomped down the stairs. She decided to follow him.
    “Find what you’re looking for?” she asked, stopped at the bottom step.
    AJ stood with his back to her, thick muscled arms crossed over his chest. He stared at the patched wall. “You broke into my place.”
    “No … more like broke through. We were exercising, sparring actually. It was Heineken’s fault.”
    He turned. “I’m not talking about the wall! I’m talking about the cheap-ass fish tank full of fucking Betta fish that have killed each other and the piss-poor paint matching.”
    Jillian waved him off. “I didn’t break in for that. I went through the front door, without breaking it. Someone wasn’t using their one-twenty-two IQ when they decided to hide their house key in the most original place ever—under a planter.”
    Her muscles clenched in rigid defense from the speed that AJ used to close the distance between them. The extra few inches of the bottom step put them closer to eye-level.
    “Jackson is your brother.” His deep voice vibrated, devoid of any question. She felt his warm breath inches from her mouth as his icy words wrapped around her nerves.
    “He is.” She eased a slow swallow, unwilling to show emotion.
    “So are you a liar or just a real sick bitch?”
    Jillian shrugged as her eyes focused on his lips. But she didn’t crave their warmth or the feel of them against hers; she craved the metallic taste that would bleed from them.