Page 44 of Trigger's Temptation

The apartment is dark and silent, but my pulse roars in my ears, drowning out everything else. I squeeze my eyes shut.It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real.

But my body doesn’t believe me.

My stomach twists violently, nausea rolling through me in waves. The scent of sweat and stale air clings to me, suffocating. I push off the couch, my knees nearly buckling as I stand. My head pounds, a dull, insistent throb behind my eyes.

My fingers curl into fists, my nails digging into my palms. I just need a second, a breath. I need some control. But as I stare at the darkened room around me, the lingering weight of unseen eyes settles against my skin.

And for the first time in a long time, I feel truly alone.

I reach for my phone with shaky fingers when another thump, followed by a pounding, echoes through my apartment.

A deep, gut-churning dread lingers in my chest, the nightmare still clinging to my skin like sweat. My body feels wrung out, the phantom echoes of screams still ringing in my ears.

Another thump. I freeze, my breath catching. The sound isn’t coming from inside but just beyond my door.

Thump. Thump. Boom. A full-on pounding shakes the wood. My stomach knots. Is someone out there? Watching? Waiting?

My fingers tighten around my service weapon, still damp from my sweaty grip. The nightmare felt so raw, so real. Anothersharp knock makes my pulse slam against my ribs, but I force myself to move.

Slow, deliberate steps take me toward the peephole. My bare feet are silent against the hardwood. My body still hums with adrenaline, instincts screaming at me to be ready.

“Aerianna, open up.” Trigger pounds on my door again, causing me to jump.

I check the peephole. When I see it is Trigger, the relief is so overwhelming my knees nearly give out. His broad shoulders fill the narrow hallway, his jaw clenched, his fist raised to pound again. I set my service weapon on the table and throw open my door before he wakes my neighbors.

“Trigger, what the…” My words are cut off when Trigger’s lips crash onto mine.

It isn’t gentle. It isn’t careful.

It’s desperate. Demanding. Consuming.

The nightmare still clings to me, poisoning my thoughts, but Trigger shatters it in an instant. His lips are fire, searing away the icy fear that wrapped around my heart. His hands are rough, unrelenting, sure, holding me in place as though he’s afraid I’ll disappear.

A whimper escapes me, unbidden, and Trigger groans into my mouth, deep and primal. He presses closer, his body a solid wall of heat and strength, the scent of leather, gunpowder, and something uniquely him drowning out everything else.

My fingers curl into his shirt, pulling him harder, closer, as if I can crawl inside his skin and forget the darkness that still lingers in the corners of my mind. Trigger answers with a growl, his grip tightening, his tongue sweeping into my mouth, claiming me in a way that’s more than physical.

It’s a promise. A warning. A brand.

His body pins me to the wall, every muscle coiled with restraint, but barely. He’s holding back, but only just. I feel thehard press of him against my stomach, the proof of how much he wants this, and a deep ache coils low in my belly.

My nails dig into his shoulders, and that’s all it takes for his grip to tighten. A warning. A dare.

"Little Kitten," he murmurs against my mouth, voice thick with lust and something darker. "If you ever walk away from me again, I will hunt you down and make you wish you never did." His words should terrify me, but instead, they make me shiver.

"Trigger," My voice is breathless, needy.

"Shh." He kisses me again, this time slower, deeper, a promise laced with punishment. His hands skim under my shirt, sliding over bare skin, fingers branding their way up my sides. I arch into his touch, and he grins against my lips.

"You’re shaking," he whispers, his breath teasing my swollen mouth. "Tell me, are you still scared, or is this something else?"

I should answer. I should say something, anything. But I don’t.

Instead, I pull him closer until there’s no space left between us. I crush my mouth against his, kissing him harder, deeper like I can drown out everything I don’t want to feel. The nightmare. The fear. The ache.

Trigger growls low in his throat, his hands sliding up my sides, fingers rough and possessive against my skin. I feel the tension in his body, the way he’s barely holding back.

When I break away, I’m gasping, my lips tingle, and my heart pounds against my ribs.

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