Forbidden Literature

27| Believe Me

If someone had told me when I was younger that I would one day meet a hot guy who wrapped me up in his arms and all I could think of was escaping, I would call them nuts. Hell maybe if they had told me months ago I would still call them nuts. But here I was surrounded Jasper Andrews arms, the sexiest man I know, and all I could think of was pushing him away. And it wasn't because I wanted to, but because I needed to.

I had worked so hard to avoid his question, and here we are outside of his house coming to terms with it all. I wasn't ready either, nor was I prepared. Slowly I placed my hands on his chest ignoring the heated sensation under my fingertips then began to push him away, "Jasper--"

He pulled me in tighter crashing me against his chest, "No. I can't pretend anymore. Stop fighting me, please."

I tried to think of anything besides the desperation in his voice and the fact that my control was slipping. "You promised me that you wouldn't bring this up."

"And I meant it, I still do mean it. But, Allison," he pulled back to look at my face, keeping our bodies in contact. His warm hand cupped my face, cold from the winter night, "I need to know. I will stick to my word after I know the truth. But it's been driving me mad ever since we left." I couldn't tell what made me feel weaker, his eyes boring into mine or his thumb stroking my cheek ever so softly. "Why didn't you come back to me?" he repeated sounded incredibly defeated.

I swallowed hard trying to find strength I had earlier but all I could discover was desire. His touch, his words, his scent it was all driving me to the brink of madness. How could I focus on pushing him away when every inch of my body was screaming for him? Did I really think that I could ignore his words and move along as if nothing happened? Granny and Sara both told me we needed to talk to each other, and here is my chance. So why am I pushing away? Why am I still running from my problems like a little girl?

My eyelids slowly closed taking in the feel of his heated hands not caring what I had been training my heart to do all these months. The battle has been carrying on for too long and I'm completely exhausted me to the point of surrender.

Mentally waving my white flag, I took in a deep breath trying to gather my next words that I had been holding back from him for so long, ". . . I did come back."

I could feel him stiffen, "What?"

The words were out and there was no turning back. My eyes snapped open to find his confused pair, "I came back to your room. Actually, I was practically running," I chuckled without humor. "But . . . I saw something that made me turn back around."

He blinked a few times, his dark eyes searching mine for some sort of answer, "And what was that?"

"The truth," my tone came out weaker than I planned, almost inaudible.

He looked even more confused, his hand slowly slipping from my face to my neck. "What truth?"

My heart began to speed up. "Ms. Harrington," I spoke through gritted teeth, the words tasting like acid.

I had imagined for months what his reaction would be when I told him that I knew what had happened between him and Ms. Harrington. I always wondered how he would do when I admitted it. Would he deny it? Would he acknowledge it? Would he not care? Would he say anything? In all my scenarios they ended up with him finally confessing the truth either with or without guilt.

I didn't expect him to look completely and genuinely lost, though.

"Ms. Harrington?" he raised his eyebrow. "As in June Harrington?" When I didn't give him a clear answer he took my glare as affirmation. "What about her?"