Prologue
Aubrey
“You’re so fucking pretty when you come,” Trent groans, his thrusts growing harder, more desperate. Pleasure crashes through me in relentless waves, my body trembling as I clench around him, feeling every inch of him, every pulse, every ridge as he moves inside me.
“Trent,” I whimper, his name breaking on a breath. His whole body tenses, and with one final, deep thrust, I watch the man I’ve loved all my life unravel.
“Fuck,” he groans again, before trailing soft kisses along my jaw and neck—making me wish this wasn’t already over.
Trent shifts just enough to catch my gaze, his lips hovering inches from mine. His dark eyes, softened yet still wild with lingering desire, holding me captive. One calloused hand cups my cheek, his thumb gently tracing the warmth of my flushed skin, as if trying to memorize every inch of me.
“You okay?” he murmurs.
I manage a faint nod, my words lodged in my throat, heavy with everything I can’t say. It feels like I’m floating outside myself, suspended in a fragile moment I know can’t last—because reality always comes crashing in.
This wasn’t supposed to happen again. It was just meant to be a one time thing and yet here we are—Trent still inside me, our bodies joined, and still, I feel the distance, creeping in at the edges. He’s right here, and yet somehow already so far out of reach.
When he pulls away, the cool air of the office makes me shiver. My hands tremble as I tug my dress and panties back into place, careful not to meet his eyes while he tucks himself back into his jeans.
The tiny office in the back of my bakery suddenly feels suffocating, the lingering scent of sugar and coffee a sharp reminder—of where we are, and how reckless this was.
I shift, feeling the warm, sticky mess between my thighs. Trent’s eyes widen, as if he’s already read my thoughts.
“Shit, I didn’t use—” Trent’s voice is rough, edged with panic.
“It’s fine,” I cut him off quickly, my voice soft but certain. “I’m on birth control.”
“It’s not fine.” He rakes his hand through his hair, a frustrated gesture I’ve seen a hundred times. “I should have checked.” His voice drops, quieter now, as if confessing something. “I’m clean, I always wear …” He doesn’t finish his sentence, but he doesn’t need to.
I nod, hopping down from the desk, a soft smile on my face “I’m clean too,” I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper.
The air between us hums with unfamiliar tension, an awkwardness that’s never existed between us before—somehow making me feel more bare now than I did moments ago, laid out for him on the desk.
For a long moment, neither of us says anything. The silence presses down on me, heavy and unfamiliar. I’ve known Trent my whole life—he’s my brother’s best friend, a huge part of our family—and yet right now we’re acting like strangers.
Before I can speak, Trent exhales sharply, dragging a hand down his face. “Fuck, Bree… what are we doing? This is crazy.” His voice is low, his eyes locking onto mine.
“I don’t know,” I whisper, forcing my voice to stay steady even as my heart pounds. If he wants this to end, he’ll have to say the words—because I can’t. Not now. Not after knowing what it feels like to have him like this.
Trent steps forward, closing the space between us until I’m trapped between his body and the desk.
His jaw is tense, but his eyes burn with something that makes my stomach flip.
“I can’t get enough of you,” he admits, his voice rough and almost pained.
“There are so many reasons I should walk away… your brother being my best friend is at the top of the list. But I can’t. ”
His calloused hands cradle my face, the roughness of his touch sending a shiver through me. I lean into his palm instinctively; eyes fluttering shut as his thumb brushes gently across my cheek—a tender contrast to the heat still crackling between us.
“Then don’t,” I whisper, breath catching in my throat. “Have me. All of me.”
Trent’s jaw tightens, his gaze dark and conflicted. “You deserve romance,” he murmurs, voice rough. “That’s not me, Bree. I’m not that guy, and you know it.”
“Who says I want that?” I fire back softly, searching his face.
He lets out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “Come on, I’ve known you for years. You’re a relationship girl through and through.”
“Yeah,” I snap, bitterness creeping into my voice, “and look how well that turned out.” My mind flashes back to college, to the boyfriend who’d betrayed me, the one Trent punched outside The Rig after catching him kissing someone else.
My voice drops, softer now. “Maybe this is exactly what I want. With someone I trust.”
His fingers twitch against my skin, his eyes searching mine like he’s trying to see straight through me, to figure out if I really mean what I just said.
“There would have to be rules,” he says at last.
“I love rules,” I counter quickly, my lips curving into a faint smile, hoping to ease the tension etched in his face.
A rough chuckle rumbles from his chest, soft but full of something that makes my pulse skip. His hand slides down the curve of my body, gripping my hip and tugging me closer until I’m pressed against him.
“You’re trouble,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my lips. “You know that, right?”
“You love trouble,” I reply confidently as I lean forward, dragging my lips down the line of his neck.
He groans, deep and ragged, pressing himself against me, letting me feel every inch of his reaction. I lift my lips to his ear, my voice barely above a whisper. “What are the rules?”
Then I lean back against the desk, letting the dim light catch the darkness in his eyes, watching him, waiting, feeling the tension crackle between us like electricity.
Trent swallows hard, eyes darkening as he studies me, like he’s weighing every consequence and deciding it’s worth it anyway.
“If we do this, no one else is allowed to touch you,” he says, his voice firm. “Whatever you need, whenever you need it—you get it from me. Understood?”
“Same goes for you,” I counter, shuddering at the thought of him with anyone else.
“Same for me.” He repeats pressing a soft, fleeting kiss to my lips, making me melt into him before he pulls away with a smirk.
“We have to keep this secret,” he continues, narrowing his eyes at me with a teasing smirk. “When we’re around your family, we behave.”
“I always behave,” I reply, trying to match his grin.
“Uh-huh.” He chuckles, but his expression darkens.
“and the most important rule, you can’t fall in love with me, Bree.
I mean it. I don’t do relationships. This is all I can give you, and if things change, you have to be honest with me—because I can’t be responsible for breaking your heart. That would kill me.”
I stay silent, letting his words settle over me.
Pretending I don’t already love Trent should be easy—I’ve been doing it for years, and he’s never noticed. Maybe this arrangement will change the way he sees me.
Either way, I can’t say no. I want him. I’ve always wanted him. And if this is the only way I can have him, then so be it.
“I won’t fall in love with you,” I murmur, locking my gaze on his.
“Good girl,” he praises, and I swear my legs almost buckle at the sound of it.
He notices, smirking as he brushes a stray strand of hair from my face. “Looks like my girl has a praise kink. Good to know.”
My cheeks heat instantly—partly because he called me his girl, partly because… if I have a kink, it’s a Trent kink. He could do or say anything he wanted to me, and I’d give him everything without hesitation.
His smirk spreads slow and dangerous across his face, and my pulse leaps in response. “Now sit your ass back on that desk, pretty girl,” he growls. “I’m hungry… and the only thing I want to eat is you.”
I bite my lip, a shiver racing down my spine, and without thinking, I slide back onto the edge of the desk, surrendering completely. His eyes darken with desire, and I know—without a doubt—that nothing between us will ever be the same.
I’ve sold my soul to the devil, and all I can do now is hope I survive once he’s finished with me.