“They taste like crap.”
Jillian popped another piece in her mouth and gagged it down just to prove that they didn’t taste like crap, which of course they did. “Whatever you do don’t sugar coat it.”
“I won’t.” AJ poked his fork at the frittata. “Are there eggs in here?”
Jillian rolled her eyes. “Yes.”
He took a small bite. “What the …” He spit out the bite into his napkin. “It’s gritty and crunchy and what the hell is the brown stuff?”
“Fake bacon. And the gritty stuff might be egg shells. A few of them got away from me.”
He grabbed both of their plates and scraped everything into the garbage.
“Hey, I wasn’t done.”
He put the plates in the dishwasher and emptied the juice down the drain. “You know those people who say they can’t cook but still manage to throw a decent meal together?”
“I suppose.” Jillian watched him, not knowing where he was going with that question.
“Well, you’re not one of those people.”
“Ouch.” She crossed her arms over her chest and fake pouted.
“And the only thing you’re worse at than cooking is acting. I’d love to offend you. Maybe then you’d stop selling all those kinky toys, or start wearing clothes to the mailbox, or censor your words around strangers. So don’t act offended that I think your cooking tastes like shit.”
Jillian started unbuttoning her white sleeveless blouse.
AJ made a nervous glance at the door. “What are you doing?”
“I don’t think we verbally communicate that well, so show me your thoughts and I’ll show you mine. Besides, this is something I’m good at … at least you’ve never complained.”
“Don’t do this. Cage could walk through that door—oh for the love of…” he massaged his temples “…where is your bra?”
Jillian smiled as she exposed her bare breasts. “Take your shirt off. Let’s see who has a better ‘half dozen.’ Greta said—”
“Stop! Don’t say her name with your shirt off.”
Jillian giggled.
He grabbed her shirt and began buttoning it up. She snaked her hands under his shirt and let her fingers trail along his abs that were worthy competition.
“Tell me what AJ stands for,” she whispered, brushing her lips across his T-shirt over his pecs.
“No.”
She moved her hand down and stroked him over his jeans. AJ closed his eyes and sucked in a tight breath as his hands lingered on the middle button of her blouse.
“Tell me your name and I’ll scream it when you’re fucking me against the wall.”
“It’s Aric James, and please wait until I’m gone to scream it.”
Jillian bit her lips together and closed her eyes as AJ jumped back like she burned him.
“Cage—”
It was the first time Jillian had ever seen AJ that flustered.
Cage grinned at Jillian as she peeked open one eye. “Told ya he likes you.”
She nodded with a bit of a grimace as her fingers made nimble moves to finish buttoning her shirt.
“She didn’t mean—” AJ stumbled over his words.
“I did,” she deadpanned, shooting AJ a don’t-you-dare-pretend-this-isn’t-happening look.
Cage looked around the corner at his father. “Jeez, what the hell happened to your nose.”
“My foot slipped out of my hanging giddy-up stirrups and broke his nose.”
“Jesus, Jillian!” AJ rested one hand on his hip and scratched his head as he bowed it in embarrassment.
“Forget I asked.” Cage pointed toward the stairs. “I’m going to go shower.” He headed up the stairs. “By the way, if he won’t let you scream his name, I’m good with you screaming mine.” Cage shot her a cocky smirk over his shoulder.
“Cage!” AJ growled.
After they heard the bathroom door shut, Jillian sauntered over to AJ.
“Aric James…” she tugged on his shirt until he bent down a breath away from her lips “…and here I thought it must stand for something like Alice Jane because your parents were hoping you were a girl.”
“Shut up.”
Jillian grinned. “Make me,” she whispered a second before his mouth covered hers.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Jillian spent the next three nights with AJ, or as Jackson learned the hard my-sister’s-next-door-screaming way, “Aric James!” The sex was intense, sometimes brutal. It was never slow love making; it was a battle, a war of emotions in physical form. Eventually, they’d find solace in the entanglement of their exhausted, naked bodies until it was time to sleep—in separate beds.
Jillian wanted to believe that she was helping AJ, but mostly she felt like she was using him. And maybe he was using her. And maybe that made it OK.
“AJ asked me to go with him to Portland. His dad is giving Cage his truck so he asked me to keep him company since Cage can’t go because of practice.” Jillian looked up from the pile of laundry at Lilith asleep in her recliner. “I haven’t told Jackson that I’m thinking of going because he will freak out. I might just leave him a note.”
She hugged the warm towel from the dryer to her chest and sighed. “It’s just been sex and banter … lots and lots of banter, but now this trip invite changes things. I’m going to meet his parents and that’s where I lose it. Meeting the family and seeing a guy through his parents’ eyes changes everything. Sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse. With Luke it was both. They made me love him … then they made me leave him.”