Page 11 of Rise In Arms

“I told you to fuck off,” I yell through my bedroom door. Again, another knock. Pissed, I throw my bag on the bed and storm to my door, opening it wide, about to yell at whoever’s on the other side.

“I told…. Oh, fuck. Sorry, Jasmine, I didn’t know it was you,” I say, feeling like shit for swearing at her. My heart constricts when I see how beautiful she looks today, and not that she’s not always beautiful, but today she’s wearing a white strapless summer dress that ends midthigh. It reminds me of the night we were on the beach, at the bonfire, when her and Quill were having their issues. I remember thinking what an asshole Prez was for letting her go. When I’d placed my cut over her, to warm her up, I remember thinking, fuck, that cut looks good on her. But it didn’t stay on her for that long because Prez gave me a look that said, I’m going to fucking kill you if you don’t take that off.

Her long brown hair is down, and she has some glossy stuff on her lips. Fuck, those lips are going to be the death of me.

“That’s no way to greet a lady,” she teases as she walks through my door, ducking under my arm holding it open, and takes a seat on the edge of my bed. I turn to face her and let the door shut behind me. Crossing my arms at my chest, I watch her as she looks around my room. She spots something on my bed, and laughing, she picks up a red lace bra and giggles as she holds it out to me. “I see Honey has been here.”

Smirking, I snatch it off her and throw it toward the nearby chair. I don’t know how to deal with her in my room, and alone. God, she’s beautiful, so perfect. My gaze travels down her exposed arms to her knees and calves. I feel ashamed, and guilty as hell for checking out my president’s ol’ lady, but I can’t help it. My eyes are starved to look at her and take her in. If I’m not going to see her for a while, then I might as well get my fill.

“What are you looking at?” she asks, eyebrows raised.

I quickly look away, and storm over to my set of drawers to take out some shirts and jeans, then head to my bed and place them in my duffel bag.

I try everything I can to ignore my rapidly beating heart, and busy myself packing. A soft hand reaches out and touches mine, and I still. But I don’t look at her. I can’t. I’m scared if I do, I’ll kiss her, and God knows that once I start I won’t be able to stop.

“Trigger, look at me,” her soft voice whispers.

I don’t, I can’t, so I look away. I sense her getting up from the bed, and she turns me by my arms to face her. I allow it, but my eyes stay on the floor because if I see her green eyes looking into mine, I might just let them seek out my soul, and expose my true feelings to her.

“Trigger, please.”

Slowly and steadily my eyes lift to meet hers. Fuck, I feel so vulnerable.

“What do you want, Jasmine?” I ask a little too gruffly.

Her smile turns into a frown. “I want to know why you’ve been ignoring me. Have I done something, or said something, to upset you? I mean, you hardly talk to me these days.” She cups my cheek, and I almost grip her wrist and pull her into me for the kiss that I want so desperately to give her. But I don’t, instead I inhale and try to think of anyone, or anything else, like… old people. Old people fucking, even. Oh fuck, why did I go there?

“Look, Jasmine,” I say, removing her hand from my face, “I really need to get a move on. Time’s a wasting.”

“Oh, sorry,” she says, dropping her hands to her sides and moving toward the bedroom door. She turns the handle, and something clicks inside of me at the sight of her about to disappear from my sight. Quickly, I storm toward her and cover her hand on the door knob with mine. She turns and leans against the door. “What’s going on, Trigger? You can talk to me. You were there for me when I needed you, now let me return the favor.” She just doesn’t get it. How can I tell her the reason I’m leaving is because I’m falling for her and I need to get my head straight?

I feel my eyes burn with unshed tears. “You’re killing me, Jasmine. Can’t you just let me go, and leave things be?” I beg, grasping her face with my hands.

“Trigger,” she pleads, tears now glistening in her eyes. “What have I done?”

“Done! What have you done?” I shout, one hand grasping the back of her neck while the other runs down her cheek. Like I’m in a trance, I step closer, my eyes focused on her lips until our noses are only inches away. My breathing gets heavier, and I feel like all oxygen has left my body. I’m panting, just for one taste of her.

Jasmine’s eyes widen, and she looks at my lips. “Trigger, what are you doing?”

“You think you’ve done something? Is that right?” I say hoarsely. She nods her head in agreement, her bottom lip quivering. I lick my bottom lip, her scent filling my senses. “The only thing you’ve done, Jasmine, is be fuckin’ perfect.”

Her eyebrows draw together in confusion. “I don’t understand, Trigger.”

“You don’t, hey?” I ask, biting down on my lip this time.

Her palms fall flat against my chest, and I feel pressure there. She’s trying to push me away. I don’t move—her hands on my body feel amazing even if it’s only because she’s trying to move away from me.

“Trigger, you want to leave? Fine, you go, but why don’t you step up and be a man, and say whatever it is that’s making you leave. What is it, Trigger?” she shouts.

With adrenalin now running through me, I do the one thing I promised myself I would never do; I kiss her, I kiss her like she’s my reason for breathing. My rough lips against her soft plump one’s have me hard, stretching against my zipper. She doesn’t move, her mouth doesn’t open even when I try to probe it with my tongue. Her hands scrunch my T-shirt, and more pressure is pressed against me. Fuck, fuck, fuck! What the hell am I doing?

Pushing myself off her, I pace the bedroom floor, looking over at her now and then. She hasn’t moved, she’s frozen on the spot, likely in shock. Finally I blurt, “I’m sorry, Jasmine. I’m so goddamn sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. Fuck.” I grunt and sit down on the bed, sinking my head between my thighs and pulling at my hair.

A few minutes pass, and I finally hear her move and walk toward me. She sinks down on her knees in front of me, and I look up, noticing she’s clearly still in shock. “I… I love you, Jasmine,” I blurt out, not caring anymore about her knowing. Geez, after that kiss, I needed to explain.

She begins to deny my confession by shaking her head, then saying, “No, Trigger, you’re confused, you don’t love me—”

“Please, let me finish,” I say, staring into her eyes.

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