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

“Depends on the day.”
    He grabbed her left arm and just as quickly she struck his nose, not enough to break it, just enough to give a warning and make his eyes water. She surprised herself. That survival instinct was still there and it smothered the quick flash of regret.
    “Chain of command, Sergeant ! You touch me without permission and there will be consequences.”
    AJ released her arm and dabbed the slow drip of blood from his left nostril. A grin pulled at his lips—a grin that surprised Jillian and she let her guard slip. As if he timed her blink just right, he had her pinned facedown on the stairs, hands restrained at her back with his whole body bearing down on hers. “That’s Senior Master Sergeant to you,” he whispered in her ear as she struggled beneath him.
    She gasped as he sucked and bit the back of her neck with bruising force, his erection pressed to her ass. Why did that turn her on so damn much?
    “Fuck you!” She wriggled an arm free and landed a solid blow to his ribs, allowing her to break free for a split second before he had her pinned down again, chest-to-chest, face-to-face. The sash to her robe loosened in the struggle and left her robe open, her naked flesh against his clothed body. His eyes searched her face for a long moment, and the instant his expression softened, lips closing in on hers, she head-butted him.
    “Goddammit!” AJ growled.
    Jillian wiggled out and shoved him back onto the floor. She re-tied her robe, wild eyes holding his gaze, both of them breathless.
    Luke … she couldn’t stop thinking about Luke. The stranger on her floor was Luke. He had to be Luke. Her body belonged to Luke. He was her heart. Luke was her entire world.
    She closed her eyes and told her brain to stop! Luke was gone … forever. Even if her mind couldn’t accept that and move on … her body needed to. Jillian was not Jessica. Period.
    “Is it weird that your coveting-the-neighbor’s-wife thing turns me on?” Straddling his body, she lowered one inch at a time. AJ’s hands slid up her bare legs beneath her robe.
    “You’re fucked-up.”
    “Pot. Kettle. Black.” She smirked.
    His jaw clenched as she pressed her lips to his neck; his hands made a painful claim to her hips. Driven by a need with a pulse and voice of its own, she curled her fingers around the neck of his T-shirt, stretching it down until hungry lips brushed over the firm ridge of his collarbone.
    His body was stone beneath hers as she moved her mouth back up his neck, slow and calculated like a wasp getting ready to sting. And that’s what she did. She flicked her tongue against his, then taking his lower lip between her teeth, she bit him—hard.
    “Fuck!” Releasing her hips he brought his hand to his mouth.
    Jillian stood, smiling as her tongue swept along her lips tasting his blood. It tasted like control. She wasn’t an animal—she was a survivor. It was a ridiculous justification, but it’s all she had. “My water’s probably cold. Show yourself out.”
    Without so much as a curious glance back, she walked up the stairs, shed her robe, slipped back into the bubbly water, and gave herself the most explosive orgasm she’d had in too many months to count.
    *
    Smoke and rust. Jillian specifically told her ignoramus brother she wanted to paint the living room pewter and pumpkin.
    “Close enough.” Jackson dipped the wooden stirrer into the thick, dark orange liquid.
    “You’re such a guy,” she mumbled, arranging the drop cloths.
    “Why the mood? I thought you were going to take a relaxing bath.”
    “I did, but it got interrupted, and then I had to finish in lukewarm water.”
    “Interrupted?”
    Jillian bit back her grin. “Yes. Sarge.”
    Jackson poured the paint into the roller pan. “What did he want?”
    Twisted lips hid a dubious smile as her eyes rolled to the ceiling. “Hmm … let me think. He wanted to know where you were, and then he made the brilliant observation … well, at least I