The morning greeted them with the kind of intimacy that neither had planned nor expected.

Renee stirred first, shifting slightly, and the motion sent a shiver through Tristan. A low, sleep-heavy groan rumbled from Tristan's throat as the unconscious press of Renee's body against him—more specifically, Renee's ass against his morning erection—sent heat pooling in his gut.

Tristan's eyes snapped open.

His body stiffened as he processed the situation. Renee, still deeply asleep, was nestled against him, his back pressed to Tristan's bare chest, his breath slow and steady. Tristan's arm was loosely draped around Renee's waist, a hold so natural it felt instinctual. And worse—worse—Renee had shifted again, the tiniest unconscious roll of his hips rubbing against Tristan in a way that made his breath catch.

A warning bell rang in his mind, but he ignored it for a second too long. Instead, he inhaled, catching the scent of strawberries in Renee's hair. His grip around Renee's waist instinctively tightened before he realized what he was doing and quickly loosened it.

What are you doing?

His thoughts screamed at him, but his body betrayed him. It felt too good, having Renee this close, this warm. The soft fabric of Renee's t-shirt was frustrating against his skin—it was a barrier, preventing him from feeling Renee's warmth fully.

And that was dangerous.

He had a girlfriend now. Nicole. He wasn't supposed to be feeling this way, holding Renee like this. He had made it clear that whatever had happened between them in the past was over. So why did it feel so right?

Then Renee shifted again.

This time, he turned in Tristan's arms, pressing his face into Tristan's chest, a leg hooking over Tristan's. Tristan froze. His heart pounded in his ears as he found himself staring down at Renee's face, still slack with sleep.

It wasn't often he saw Renee like this. No sharp remarks. No glare. No guarded expressions or defiant smirks. Just peace.

Tristan felt something twist in his chest.

He wanted to see this side of Renee more. He wanted to be the reason for it.

No.

No, no, no.

Swallowing hard, he listened to reason. He shook Renee lightly, murmuring, "Renee."

No response.

Tristan ran his fingers through Renee's dark hair, pushing the strands out of his face, and tried again. "Renee, wake up."

This time, Renee stirred. His eyelids fluttered, unfocused at first, until they locked onto Tristan's.

Seconds stretched between them.

Renee blinked. Then again.

His body tensed all at once as realization struck. His eyes widened, flicking down at their entangled limbs before he quickly pulled away. The loss of warmth was immediate, leaving Tristan feeling oddly cold as Renee sat up, running his fingers through his hair.

Tristan exhaled, leaning back against the couch, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Uh… good morning," he said, his voice rough with awkwardness.

Renee hummed in response, his voice still raspy from sleep.

Silence stretched, thick and suffocating.

Then Renee's eyes dropped.

Tristan followed his gaze—and heat flooded his face.

The bulge in his sweatpants was obvious, and Renee wasn't looking away.

Tristan cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably. "I—uh—I'm gonna use the bathroom."

Without another word, he scrambled out of the blankets, barely resisting the urge to run up the stairs.

---

Renee let out a slow breath, raking a hand through his hair.

What the fuck was that?

His skin still felt warm, his body still aware of the ghost of Tristan's touch. It made his stomach twist in a way he didn't want to examine too closely.

Tristan had been staring at him.

Like, really staring at him.

And worse, he'd liked it.

That realization made his throat dry. He shifted, glancing down—and bit back a groan when he noticed the growing bulge in his own sweatpants.

Shit.

His fingers curled into fists. If this had been a few nights ago—back when everything between them was different—he wouldn't have hesitated. He would have already had Tristan in his mouth, tasting him, making him come undone.

His gut twisted.

It wasn't supposed to feel this good, waking up in someone's arms.

Or maybe it was.

Maybe it only felt good because it was Tristan.

Renee scowled at that thought, pushing it aside as he got up. He stretched, cursing the slight cramp in his muscles, then grabbed the blankets and headed up the stairs to Tristan's room.

He tossed them onto the bed without a second thought.

Then—

The sound of running water caught his ear.

But that wasn't what stopped him.

It was the faint, unmistakable sound of moaning.

Renee's breath hitched.

No way…

His feet moved before his brain caught up. He barely realized he was walking toward the en suite bathroom, his pulse hammering. The door was slightly ajar, just enough to see through the fogging glass of the shower.

And there Tristan stood.

Fuck.

Renee swallowed hard as his eyes locked onto Tristan's naked body, the lean, toned muscle of his chest, the broadness of his shoulders—

And the hand wrapped firmly around his cock.

His breath caught in his throat as Tristan stroked himself, head tilted back, mouth slightly parted as quiet moans filled the steam-heavy air.

Then—

Then he heard his name.

Renee's legs nearly gave out beneath him.

Tristan was moaning his name.

His eyes widened, a tremor rushing through him as Tristan's strokes became more desperate, his moans rougher, more needy—until he came, hot and thick against the shower wall.

Renee barely managed to tear himself away, bolting from the room.

His chest heaved as he stumbled into the guest room, slamming the door behind him.

And then—he smiled.

Maybe, just maybe, Tristan wasn't as over him as he claimed.