Trent
There’s nothing like waking up in your own bed—especially after a few nights in a hospital bed.
I’ve been up for a couple of hours now. My mom’s already called twice, checking in, asking if I need anything. I know she means well — they all do. I’ve got more people in my corner than I probably deserve.
But right now? I just want to be alone.
The hospital was constant noise. Constant company. Nurses, doctors, beeping monitors, someone always hovering. Now that I’m home, the silence feels like a relief. Like I can finally breathe.
Still, it’s not just space I want—it’s peace. And there’s only one person who gives me that.
And she’s currently avoiding me.
I shift on the edge of the bed, reaching for the crutches propped against the nightstand.
The brace on my leg makes everything slow and awkward.
I already hate all of it—the crutches, the brace, the fact that I can’t put any weight on my leg.
It makes me feel limited. Helpless. Weak in a way I’m not used to.
Getting up takes more effort than it should. My arms do most of the work, shoulders straining as I stand and adjust my grip. The rubber tips of the crutches press into the floor with a soft thud, each step careful and deliberate.
I turn toward the closet and nudge the door open with my shoulder, just looking for a T-shirt to throw on. But then my eyes land on something else—something familiar.
I move in closer, shifting my weight. Carefully, I unhook one arm from the crutch, then pause to find my balance on one leg before reaching out.
It’s an old grey hoodie.
One that Aubrey stole after the first night she stayed here. Said it was too soft to give back.
Back then, we hadn’t figured out what we were doing. The rules had been laid out, but we were both wading through uncharted waters—pretending we could handle it, pretending we wouldn’t cross lines we already had.
We both knew the risks. Mostly her brother.
But Aubrey was like a drug, and I was already hooked. I’d been inside her, tasted her, and even if I’d wanted to walk away, I don’t think I could of.
I bring it up to my face and inhale without thinking.
The fabric doesn’t really smell like her anymore, not after all these months. But the second my fingers brush over it, my memory conjures that warm hint of vanilla, vivid as ever.
And just like that, my mind slips.
Back to one of those first mornings.
Back to her.
***
The second I see her—bare legs, drowning in my hoodie, dark hair twisted into a messy bun—I know I’m fucked. She’s every goddamn wet dream I’ve ever had, sitting right there on my couch, and all I can think about is crawling between her legs and staying there.
Her eyes flick to mine, catching me frozen mid-step, and she bites her lip. A flush creeping up her cheeks, pink and perfect, like she knows exactly what she’s doing to me.
“You look fucking edible in my hoodie,” I murmur, setting her coffee down on the table before sinking into the cushion beside her. I angle my body toward hers, letting her see just how much I’m enjoying the view.
She grins, tugging the collar of my hoodie up to her nose. “This old thing? Yeah, I’ve claimed it.” She breathes in deep, lids fluttering as a little sound slips from her throat—a sound that damn near undoes me.
“Have you now?” my voice dips lower, teasing, as my hand moves on instinct. I let my fingers trail slowly up the warm, smooth skin of her thigh, savoring the way she shivers under my touch. “You got anything on under this?”
Her lips twitch into a sly smile. “Maybe. Maybe not,” she says, tilting her head and watching me from beneath her lashes.
“Maybe I should just find out for myself?” I growl, my fingers inching higher.
I see the moment she hesitates. The light in her eyes flickers, and instinctively I pull my hand back, worried I’ve crossed a line I didn’t know existed. Leaning in, I cup her face, tilting her chin so those beautiful brown eyes meet mine again.
“What were you thinking just then?” I ask quietly. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No, not at all.” Her voice is soft, almost shy. “I was just… thinking about something.”
“To do with this?” I gesture between us.
She nods, eyes dropping.
“Talk to me, Bree,” I murmur. “It’s just me.”
“I had a thought,” she admits, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “but I didn’t know how to talk about it without feeling awkward and embarrassed.”
“Say it.” My thumb strokes her cheek. “I want to know all your thoughts—especially if it’s about something we’re doing.”
She draws in a breath. “You’re pretty dominant when it comes to sex.”
My brows lift slightly. “You don’t like that?”
“Oh no, I do. I really do,” she says quickly, a blush rising to her cheeks. “But I guess I want to know what that feels like.”
“To be the dominant one?”
She nods again, this time with a nervous little smile. “Yeah.”
“That’s what you want? Control?”
“Yeah. Not all the time,” she adds, fidgeting with the sleeve of my hoodie. “But sometimes, I guess. But if you’re not into that then that’s fine too. It's not a big deal.”
A slow grin spreads across my face. “It sounds fucking hot.”
Her eyes flick back up to mine, a mix of surprise and excitement sparking there. “Yeah?”
“Fuck yeah,” I rasp. “You want to take control sometimes? I’m good with that. I’ll hand myself over to you without a second thought. I told you, anything you need, you get from me. I’ll fall to my knees and worship you if that’s what you want.”
Her eyes search mine, uncertainty flickering there. “It wouldn’t make you feel… less manly if we switched roles sometimes?”
“Fuck no.” My jaw tightens, my voice rougher now. “Has someone said that before? Made you feel guilty for asking for what you need?”
She nods, almost imperceptibly.
Without thinking, I reach for her and pull her into my lap, her legs sliding easily to either side of my thighs. She gasps softly at the movement, palms pressing against my shoulders.
“They were boys, Bree,” I growl, staring up at her. “I’m a man. And nothing—nothing—would bring me more pleasure than seeing you take what you need from me.”
My hands slide down to grip her hips, fingers digging into her curves. With a slow pull, I guide her forward until she’s sitting directly over the hard line of my cock, heat bleeding through the thin layers between us. Her breath catches, pupils dilating.
“But when It’s my turn…” My mouth tilts into a dangerous smile. “You better fucking believe I’ll ruin this perfect pussy. No one else will ever be able to give you what I can.”
***
The sharp buzz of my phone against my thigh snaps me out of the memory. I don’t bother checking it. Instead, I pull on the hoodie I’m clinging to, easing it carefully over my head. The weight of it settles around me, and the ache in my chest is sharper than the throb in my leg.
Balancing on my crutches, I make my way back into the living room and lower myself onto the couch. My body sinks into the cushions, exhaustion weighing heavy as I prop my leg on the stool in front of me.
For a long moment, I just sit there, staring at the empty space across from me.
Today, will be the only day I let myself drown in this feeling. The frustration over my broken body, anger at the limits it forces on me, and the regret that gnaws at me every time Aubrey crosses my mind.
Just one day.
One day to wallow.
Tomorrow, I’ll find a way to stand up again.