AJ knew what was coming, but some alien masochistic part of him needed it to justify the moment he willingly gave in to. Like an angry serpent, he hissed when Jillian clenched her jaw, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he curled his thumb until she released him. There was no blood, but the deep indents of her front teeth were molded into the pad of his thumb, and he felt confident his nail would be black and blue within days.
He wrapped his lips around the tip of his thumb, and Jillian’s golden eyes—the ones that only existed in children’s fantasy books—shimmered in the full light of the moon. There was no way to read into her dubious expression. Did that twinkle in her eyes spell challenge or conquest? Either way he knew for certain it glimmered with the element of surprise.
“Dangerous, huh?” Jillian rubbed her lips together, as if she wanted to savor the taste of him. “To whom?”
AJ pulled his thumb from his lips, rubbing his forefinger over the indentations. “I’m not sure, yet.”
Her gaze faltered. Several thoughtful blinks later she met his eyes again. “Pleasant dreams, AJ.” She lifted on to her toes, but without him bowing, she couldn’t reach his lips. He closed his eyes in a silent prayer for control as she pressed her lips to the hollow of his throat. By the time he opened them and unclenched his fists, she was gone.
*
The nightmares were rare, one every month or two. And even those were more often flashbacks to the months that led to the demise of his marriage.
The anger.
The fighting.
The reflection AJ no longer recognized.
It was the pain. If not the physical agony of the migraines that came at more frequent intervals, the emotional anguish over his inability to control his temper. One minute he raged out of control over Cage forgetting to make his bed and the next he withdrew, sometimes leaving for days—sleeping on base, or even in his truck. He was never suicidal. There were just times he didn’t want to be found, didn’t want human contact, not even a knock at his door.
“Dad?” Cage whispered.
“Yeah?” AJ answered, his voice gravelly from lack of sleep and muffled from the pillow that covered his head to block out the morning light penetrating his shades like a thousand knives to his brain.
“Um … it’s almost ten-thirty. Are you okay?”
AJ cursed even the dimmest reflection of light as he peeked out from under his pillow to confirm the time. “Dammit!” he mumbled to himself. “I’m fine.”
He wasn’t fine. He was two and half hours late to work and the devil was still drumming in his head. After pulling on a T-shirt and shoving his legs into a pair of jogging pants, he lumbered into the hallway.
“You look like shit.” Cage grimaced as he handed his father a glass of water and a couple Advil.
“Sounds about right.” AJ tossed back the pills.
“Bad one?”
AJ nodded, swallowing the last of the water. “I’ve got to get to work.”
“Take a sick day. That’s what they’re for.”
AJ pinned Cage with a piercing glare. “I’ve never called in sick to work.” He also hadn’t ever had to jerk off twice in less than an hour before going to bed because a certain neighbor had him so painfully turned on. He thought the overdue release would have lessened the severity of his migraine, but it hadn’t.
Cage shrugged. “Whatever. Jillian caught me when I arrived earlier. Jackson’s working until later this afternoon so she asked if I’d give her a ride to Dillion Brothers’ this morning.”
“The Harley Davidson dealership?”
Cage grinned. “Yep. She ordered a bike for herself. Jillian rides a motorcycle. Jackson’s one lucky bastard.” Cage shook his head.
“Why do you say that?” AJ brushed past him in desperate need of coffee.
“A wife that looks like a fitness model, wears virtually nothing, and rides a motorcycle—not the stereotypical butch-looking broad that you usually see on a bike. I’m talking every guy’s fantasy … times one hundred, and he’s tapping that every day—probably more than once.”
“Cage!” AJ growled with his back to his son, nearly overflowing his coffee cup.
Cage fought to hide his smirk. “Sorry, he’s gently making sweet, sweet love to her every day—probably more than once.” His voice rose an octave.
AJ pinched his temples. “Jackson’s her brother, not her husband.”
Cage’s eyes grew wide. “Really? Why does everyone seem to think they’re married?”
AJ sighed as he glanced at his watch. He needed to get his ass to work and call to let them know why he was running so late. “I don’t know. They’re two grown siblings living together; that’s messed-up enough. I don’t have the time nor the interest to dig any deeper into that situation.” He also didn’t know why he’d fucked her in his head while he got himself off in the shower once and again in bed a half hour later. “Stay away from her … them. Got it?” AJ warned as he brought his phone up to his ear.