Loving you Dangerously

Chapter 2

Alexis stood alone on the soccer field, the chill of the evening air slowly settling around her. She wasn't cold. A triumphant fire raged within her chest. She watched Trigger’s retreating figure until he was just a speck, then turned, a slow, predatory smile spreading across her face.

He had run. He had run not from her, but from himself.

The trembling in his body, the raw fear in his eyes—it wasn't revulsion. It was desire, a desperate terror of what she made him feel. He could lie to Angelica, to their families, to the entire university, but he couldn't lie to his own body.

The game was no longer about seduction; it was about the thrill of the hunt. She knew exactly where he would go, and she knew she would be waiting.

Trigger walked away from the field, each step a raw, aching admission of defeat. He couldn’t handle the relentless temptation of Alexis. He needed to be with Angelica, to anchor himself in her quiet grace and gentle spirit.

He needed to find solace in the pure, uncomplicated feelings he had for her, to remind himself of the kind of woman he truly wanted. He found Angelica in the campus library, hunched over a laptop, lost in the world of blueprints and schematics. She looked up, her face a vision of serene beauty, her exhaustion only making her more beautiful in his eyes.

He sat down across from her, his heart a frantic drum against his ribs.

"Hey, Trigger," she said, her voice a soft melody. "I'm still so busy. Is everything okay?"

"Angelica, we need to talk," he said, the words tumbling out before he could second-guess himself.

"It's about... us."Her brow furrowed with confusion.

"Us? We're friends, Trigger. You know that."

"I know," he insisted, leaning forward. "But I don't want to be just friends. I've never just seen you as a friend. I... I love you, Angelica. I have for a long time."

He confessed his feelings, his voice laced with the kind of vulnerability he reserved only for her. He told her how his heart ached for her, how he had always been there, waiting, hoping. Angelica listened patiently, her expression a mix of surprise and pity.

When he finished, she reached across the table and placed her hand over his. "Trigger, I'm so sorry. I... I love you too, but as a friend. You're my dearest my confidante. But that's all. My heart has always been with Nathaniel. I know you've always seen me as someone who needs to be protected, but I can't be yours. I'm so sorry. I truly don't want to hurt you."

The words, spoken so gently, felt like a physical blow. The world around him went silent. He barely registered her apologies or her mention of Nathaniel. He could only hear the finality in her voice, the quiet, unwavering rejection that left him shattered.

He found himself wandering the streets, the Manila night a blur of neon lights and loud noises. His mind reeled back to a memory from their childhood, a time before the rivalry, before the possessiveness. He was ten years old, and he had just lost a game of tag, falling and scraping his knee. He was on the verge of tears, embarrassed by the childish pain, when Angelica, already the picture of poise and grace, had rushed to his side. She had a heart condition even then, and her parents had always told her not to over-exert herself. But she had knelt beside him, taken his hand, and gently kissed his knee, telling him, "Don't cry. You're strong, Trigger. You're my favorite protector."

That simple, selfless act of kindness had sealed his fate.

He had loved her fiercely ever since, a love born of reverence and a desperate need to protect the one person who had ever shown him unconditional kindness. And now, she had broken his heart, leaving him feeling more lost than ever.

He ended up at a bar, drinking until his vision swam. He was drunk, but the pain was still there, a sharp, stabbing ache in his chest. He was just lucid enough to understand the searing pain of his first real heartbreak.

He stumbled out into the night, the world spinning around him. He was in front of his condo building when a familiar scent reached him, cutting through the haze of alcohol.

Alexis. .. She was there, leaning against the wall, watching him with those dark, hungry eyes. "Looking for someone?" she purred, her voice a low, knowing tease. "Maybe a friend to help you get home?"

Trigger’s head snapped up. The rage, the pain, and the alcohol mixed into a toxic cocktail. He stumbled toward her, grabbing her arm. "You're not Angelica! You'll never be her! You're a fake! A desperate, shameless slut who's only good for one thing!" he yelled, his voice thick with rage. "You disgust me!"

Her face remained impassive. She didn't flinch. She just watched him, a slow smile returning to her face. He was in pain, and that was all that mattered. "Disgust me all you want, Trigger," she whispered, her voice a dangerous balm. "I'm still here. I'm still the only one who can make you feel something. I'm the only one who truly wants you."

*****

He didn’t remember how they got inside his condo. One moment they were in the elevator, his hand crushing her wrist, and the next her back slammed against the wall of his living room. His mouth crashed onto hers, savage, teeth scraping her lip until it bled.

Alexis moaned into the pain, dragging his shirt over his head, desperate fingers clawing at his skin. “f**k—yes, Trigger, take me. I’ve been waiting for this.”

He didn’t answer, only shoved her skirt up and ripped her panties down. His hand slid between her thighs, two fingers plunging into her soaked heat without warning. He pumped roughly, stretching her until her legs shook.

Her head fell back against the wall, a shameless cry tearing from her throat. “Ahhh, yes! Don’t stop—f**k, that’s it! I’m yours, Trigger, yours!”

He dropped to his knees. His tongue speared inside her, lapping, sucking, devouring her with a growl. He bit her c**t hard enough to make her scream, then soothed it with his tongue, again and again, until she was trembling uncontrollably, juices running down his chin.

“s**t—oh God, you’re killing me! Ang sarap… ahhh!” she sobbed, nails scraping bloody marks into the wall.

When she came, he didn’t let her breathe. He shoved his c**k into her mouth the moment she opened it to cry out. She gagged on the first thrust, his length forcing down her throat. Both his hands locked in her hair, pulling her face forward, using her mouth mercilessly.

“Mmphhh—mmm!” she choked, tears spilling, spit dripping down her chin. He thrust harder, groaning when her throat clenched around him.

When he spilled, it was deep in her throat, hot and bitter. She swallowed it all, licking her lips with a wicked grin. “More… I want more.”

His fury snapped. He spun her and bent her over the couch, shoving into her dripping core with one brutal thrust. Her scream echoed off the walls, but her hips pushed back, meeting every savage slam.

“Yes! Harder, please—f**k me harder! Break me if you want, Trigger!”

He yanked her hair back, biting her shoulder until she cried out. His thrusts were punishing, his sweat dripping onto her back, every movement fueled by heartbreak.

He dragged her to the bedroom, throwing her onto the bed. He pinned her wrists above her head and drove into her again, faster, deeper, until the mattress shook beneath them. Alexis screamed his name, legs wrapping tightly around his waist.

When she flipped on top of him, riding him in a frenzy, her breasts bouncing, her cries filled the dark room. “Yes, yes, ohhh f**k—I knew you’d want me! I knew you’d break!”

But he wasn’t looking at her. His eyes were glazed, his jaw clenched, chasing oblivion in her body.

Again and again he took her—on the floor, against the dresser, her back to his chest as he rammed deep from behind. Her body was wrecked, covered in bruises and bite marks, her voice hoarse from screaming. And still she begged for more, believing his violence was desire.

---

By dawn, the room reeked of sweat and s*x. Alexis lay trembling beside him, her skin flushed, her lips swollen. Her chest swelled with triumph—finally, she thought, he was hers.

But then, through the heavy silence, his broken whisper slipped into the air:

“Angelica… please… be mine. I love you so much.”

The words stabbed her deeper than any bruise. Alexis froze, tears burning her eyes. The night’s victory shattered into a hollow ache. She wasn’t his passion. She wasn’t his choice.

She was just the body he used to bleed out his pain.

Alexis lay still for several minutes, staring at the rise and fall of Trigger’s chest. The sound of his breathing should have been comforting, a rhythm she’d dreamed of falling asleep to. Instead, it was a cruel reminder—each exhale carried Angelica’s name, not hers.

Her throat burned as silent sobs wracked her. Putangina naman… she thought, pressing her fist to her mouth to muffle the sound. Kahit anong gawin niya, kahit ibigay niya ang lahat, kahit paulit-ulit siyang sumuko sa lalaki… hindi pa rin siya sapat.

Her body ached everywhere—sore thighs, bruised hips, lips swollen from his savage kisses—but the pain was nothing compared to the hollow tearing inside her chest.

Still, she refused to let him see her like this.

With trembling hands, Alexis slid out from under the sheets. Every step was heavy, her legs weak, but she forced herself to move. She gathered her dress from the floor, clutching it against her chest like fragile armor, and stumbled toward the door.

Before leaving, she turned one last time. Trigger lay sprawled across the bed, bare and beautiful, his face relaxed in sleep. But even then, his lips moved faintly, whispering that cursed name again.

“Angelica…”

Alexis bit down so hard on her lip she tasted blood. *One day,* she vowed silently, the fire sparking back through her tears, *I’ll make you say my name like that. I’ll make you love me, Trigger. Kahit anong paraan.*

And with that, she slipped out into the early Manila dawn, her heart shattered yet burning with dangerous resolve.