Chapter 16 - Rylie
Rylie
The moment our lips touched, something inside him broke loose.
Trigger’s hands came up fast—one at my lower back, the other threading into my hair—drawing me into him with a low sound in his throat that made my knees weak. The kiss deepened instantly, not frantic, not rushed, but sure. Like he’d waited long enough and wasn’t about to hesitate now.
His mouth was warm and firm and devastatingly gentle all at once.
I’d kissed men before.
None of them had ever kissed me like this.
Like they were memorizing me.
Like they were afraid to hurt me—and more afraid to let me go.
I gasped softly as his lips moved against mine, his thumb brushing my jaw, tipping my head just enough to deepen the kiss. He tasted like coffee and heat and something unmistakably him. Solid. Steady. Dangerous in the best way.
When he finally pulled back, it wasn’t far.
Our foreheads rested together, breaths tangled, his chest rising fast beneath my palms.
“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, voice rough, restrained to the edge of breaking.
I shook my head.
“Tell me you’re sure.”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything,” I whispered.
That was all it took.
Trigger kissed me again—slower this time, deeper. His hands slid down my back, tracing my spine like he was learning every inch of me, committing it to memory. The contact sent heat curling low in my stomach, unfamiliar and overwhelming in its intensity.
I clutched his shirt, fingers tightening as the reality of what we were doing sank in.
He was touching me like I mattered.
Not like something fragile to be handled with kid gloves—but like something precious.
When his mouth drifted from mine, brushing along my jaw, my ear, my throat, I sucked in a sharp breath.
“Eli…” I whispered.
His lips paused at my pulse. “I’ve wanted to hear you say my name for a long time.”
The words sent a shiver straight through me.
He guided me backward until my calves hit the edge of the couch. I sat without breaking eye contact, my heart pounding hard enough I was sure he could hear it. He followed me down, crowding the space between my knees, one hand braced beside my hip, the other resting warm and steady on my thigh.
Not rushing.
Never rushing.
“You okay?” he asked quietly.
I nodded. “More than okay.”
His gaze softened—and then darkened with something unmistakably hungry.
He leaned in, kissing me again, deeper this time, his body pressing into mine just enough to make me aware of him. Of the strength in his frame. Of the control he was holding onto by sheer will.
My hands slid beneath his jacket, over hard muscle and warmth, and he inhaled sharply, his jaw tightening.
“Rylie,” he warned gently.
“I know,” I said. “I just want… this. You.”
That was it.
His mouth claimed mine again, his hands firm now, confident, pulling me closer until there was no space left to pretend we were still being careful.
Heat bloomed between us, heavy and undeniable, my body responding in ways I hadn’t expected—and definitely hadn’t planned.
But I always knew this was how it would be with Trigger and me.
When he finally broke the kiss, his forehead rested against mine again, his breathing uneven.
“This doesn’t end tonight,” he said quietly. “If we start this… I don’t walk away tomorrow.”
A lump formed in my throat.
“Good,” I said softly. “Neither do I.”
His lips curved into the faintest smile before he kissed me once more—slow, deep, unhurried.
Outside, the night stayed quiet.
Inside the cabin, wrapped in warmth and truth and the man who’d been holding himself back for far too long, I finally let myself feel safe enough to want more.
And for the first time in a year…
I let myself be wanted, too.