Trespassing

Trip's POV

A tight, pinching pain claimed my shoulder for what felt like days. There were voices in the back, whispering technical words. I heard a few like 'operation' and 'anesthesia'.

My head sunk into deep water not much later. Muscles succumbed into a numbing itch and I was knocked out.

***

Beeping clattered my ears. The strong stench of antiseptic caused my head to turn, nose scrunching. My neck was stiff—like when I slept on my couch. I didn't understand what was wrong—why it felt like I'd landed on an hospital bed.

Until I moved my left shoulder.

It was a faint throb, clouded by light-headedness. It was all I needed to get memories running. The DVD, Catherine standing guard, my mother showing up... My mother holding Catherine at gunpoint—

My eyes popped.

White walls, white sheets, white beds—fucking white was everywhere. I hated hospitals, I'd had enough of them for the rest of my life. Mostly my fault for getting into these types of situations.

Only I hadn't gotten into a brawl at a bar. My own mother had shot me.

"Thomas?" I cocked my head to the side.

I'd always seen my father in a perfectly pressed suit jacket, pants and shirt. Matching tie included. Now, graying hazel hair was askew, the tie hung loosely around his neck and dad's jacket was tossed on the seat next to him.

He looked awful.

"Dad...?" I croaked.

He came closer after I spoke. I didn't think he knew what to say, because he patted my hand silently, looking tired. Like when he had a late-nighter at the bank.

"How are you feeling?"

"Not so bad..." I lifted my head off the pillow—it fell right back. My brain was in a doozy.

He rubbed a hand down his face, "That's good. They gave you quite a bit of morphine—" he tapped a button near the IV on my arm. "The doctor said depending on your pain you just needed to push this—"

"I know how it works. I've been here before." I gave a halfhearted smile.

"Right, you..." my father dragged a hand through his cropped hair. "What do you remember, Thomas?"

Exhaling a long, shallow breath, I whispered, "All of it. Mom she..." my eyes glazed over as I saw her standing over me and Catherine with an icy stare. A shiver caused a burst of rich pain through my shoulder. "Fuck—" I looked at dad, waiting for a scowl and a old-fashioned lecture about manners.

Instead, I got a wide look.

"Do you want me to call a nurse?"

"No, I... I'm fine." I might have woken up in an alternate dimension. "How is she—Catherine, I mean."

"She lost a lot of blood. They gave her a blood transfusion and waited for her to stabilize. She's in surgery now."

Wincing, I moved to a more comfortable position. She wasn't dead. But she wasn't out of the woods, either.

Thoughts of doe-eyes plagued me, but before I could ask where Ava was, a round disk popped into my mind.

"Hey, there was this DVD in my pocket...? It... It's Gabriel's I was supposed to give it to him—" I was sweating worse then when I'd gotten to the safe.

"They put all your things in plastic bags before taking you into surgery." Dad explained, looking to the end of the room where both a couch and small—white—dresser sat. "It's all in there..." he trailed off.

I knew sooner or later we would have to address the fat, flag-waving pink elephant in the room. Sooner was now.

"What's gonna happen now...?" I whispered, ducking my eyes into his, fleetingly. "To mom?"

Leaning on the edge of bed, my father held my gaze with his familiar no-letting-you-down-easy expression.

"Your mother was arrested outside Lovet. She made a bigger mess out of things by trying to escape."

"Is she going to jail—you know, for a while?" When I got arrested Dad's lawyers had busted me out in less than twenty-four hours. He shook his head, slowly. "Then... forever?"

"Giselle will be trialled. She'd probably be convicted but—" he stopped. I noticed his eyes somewhere else. My heart did a crazy yippie-yay. "We can talk about this later."

Throat burning from seeing Ava behind the room's window, I wanted to nod. Closing my fingers, I repressed the urge to yell at everyone in the hospital to leave the two of us alone.

"Tell me now—what's going to happen to her?" Calling that woman 'mother' went beyond the limits of impossible now.

Straightening, he answered, "She'll plead insanity and will most likely be transferred to a mental institution. I think that will be the case even if she doesn't resort to that type of defense, given her track record." The corners of Dad's lips turned in a saddened manner. "Sometimes I wonder if I should've pushed her to get help..."

Yes, he should've. If he had, I wouldn't have been tied to a bed and filmed.

But my father couldn't have guessed she'd do something so disturbingly crazy—and he would never know.

"It's not your fault she's the way she is, dad."

Both of us stared, uncomfortable. We weren't prone to son-and-father moments. When dad cleared his voice, he told me he'd be back later. On his way out, I saw him muttering something to Ava. She smiled a little, before bouncing in—closing the door.

Ava came at me like a torpedo. Hands touching my cheeks, fingers pinning my hair, but the best was her flushed lips on mine. She claimed them in a flurry of desire, the kind that made me glad I was alive, breathing for her.

Ava's hand touched a little below my left shoulder. I winced. She backed up instantly.

"Easy on the love," I grasped her wrist so she couldn't get too far. "I don't want a doctor busting in here, bitching about torn stitches. That would be very uncool." I traced a vein up her lower arm.

Ava's ol' brown eyes dropped into mine, shaking my world. Their edges were rimmed red.

"Baby—"

"You idiot," Bye-bye, Bambi. "How could you, Thomas? You left without saying a thing—I woke up and I had no idea where you were!" She sunk her fingers into the hand holding her arm. "I thought you were fine—at the gym or hanging out at Mr. Matthew's place and... Then Gabriel called—he called telling me you'd been shot. Shot!" She emphasized, covering her mouth to stifle a cry.

I bit a string of curses. Damn Gabriel for his bad timing. Damn my mother for going bananas. Damn me for making my girl cry.

Ava's hold was so loose I managed to slip out my hand. I circled her waist, pulling her to mattress's brim.

"Ava..." I felt her intentions to pull apart, but I didn't let her. "Baby," I sighed against her hair. "I didn't want you to worry after what went down with your parents. I figured the faster I worked out my problem... the faster I could move on. With you. With nothing holding me back." The tips of my fingers touched her warm skin, under her top. "I never meant to worry you. Least of all hurt you."

We stayed there for a while. Her crying into my right shoulder, me half-hugging her—trying not to pull a muscle—with my chin on top of her head. Ava was ready to stop sobbing when she tilted her head, fingers gripping the fabric of my gown.

"I thought you were..." I knew exactly what the chocked words meant.

"I... I'm sorry." I closed my eyes as our foreheads touched. "So very sorry."

Breathing a deep one, Ava grazed our lips.

"Never do something like that again—you have no idea what it felt like… One minute I thought you were fine and the next…" her tear-stained cheek settled against mine. I didn't mind, kissing her and the tears. "The only thing I thought about was that… that I might never hear your voice again—see your eyes, your smile—God, Trip, I even thought I'd never hear your boring car talks…!"

"They're not boring…" Ava's sharp glare told me now wasn't the time to debate cars. "Too much morphine." I muttered. "You're right. I did wrong, I should've told you where I was going, but about being shot… I… I…"

"You couldn't resist playing white knight to Catherine." I jerked my head back. She bit her lip. "I know she's a human being but I'd rather you hadn't been shot—fatally or not. Especially for someone like her."

Nothing I told her now would make Catherine seem worthy of saving, and maybe she wasn't. There was someone out there who loved her, though. If Ava had been in a similar position to Cath's, I'd like to think someone would do the same for her.

"Did you drive here?"

Wiping wetness away, she shook her head.

"Valerie was with me when Gabriel called. She brought me—they're outside. The doctor wouldn't let more than one person in."

"Okay." I glared at the dresser. My father had paid for a private room, no doubt. The DVD was safe here until I could pass it to Gabriel. Or destroy it myself. "Where were you when my dad was here?"

"Talking to the police," my jaw clenched. "They wanted to know what you were doing there, if you and your mother had some argument before today—that kind of thing. I said… I didn't know." I scooted a little to the side so she could lie beside me. "Your dad told them she didn't mean to shoot you, that you wrestled for the gun and it went off?" I gave a nod. "They'll want to talk to you about Catherine."

I knew exactly what to say. And since my mother was nuts, everyone would buy any story over hers.

"Don't worry about that, just think about now. We're here—together." I pulled wires around Ava giving her more mobility. "I'm here—alive—and I love you." I whispered, before pressing a lingering kiss on her forehead.

***

A week later, I'd been discharged from the hospital. The bullet had pierced between my shoulder and chest—missing bone—the only reason I'd been taken to surgery was to dislodge it.

Two weeks after that, I could move my left arm with little more than a wince. And I'd been pissed about missing my senior year spring break. But there had been more important things on my mind.

Back in the hospital, I'd told Gabriel to take the DVD and burn it. Break it, drive over it—whatever worked. When he'd told me it was in a thousand pieces, swimming in the Hudson, it had been the best day of my life.

Like a weight had been taken from me.

When the police talked to me, I told them Catherine had asked for my help. That she wanted to quit Lovet before her contract ended. Told them mom had gone bat-shit crazy—that much had been true—and pulled a gun on her.

Catherine had confirmed it. I hadn't exactly visited her—more like walked past her room and seen her. Her leg was in a cast. She hadn't been lucky, her bone had been hit and she was looking forward to months in a wheel chair and crutches, as well as physical therapy. Even after all that, the doctor said she could have a limp for life. If that happened, she could kiss her cat-walking-days goodbye. Couldn't say I was sad for her.

I was just glad me and her were now tieless.

My mother's trial was in a month from now. She was patiently waiting under house arrest—just not at our house. In an apartment my father rented just for her. I refused to visit her. Dad hadn't pressed the matter. Hadn't seemed mad about me saying 'no' either.

Now, we were a month into the third semester. Being shot felt like a distant memory. A nightmare that happened a month and three weeks ago; but only when I was behind closed doors. Outside, everyone talked about the incident. The Harrington name was out there and this time, I hadn't done a fucking thing for it to happen.

None of it mattered today, though. Today everything changed.

***

Ava's POV

"How come you picked out everything for our apartment?" I watched him from an eye corner, smiling.

"Because you're a guy. You don't know anything about décor."

"Gabriel's a guy."

"He did the heavy lifting, trust me, you didn't miss anything exciting. Only a load of complaining." For the first time in a long month, my tummy felt jittery. I was actually looking forward to something. "And I know you spent most of your free time working on your car."

His scarred eyebrow jolted.

"Did you roll your eyes at me?

"Maybe."

An arm snagged around my waist, drawing me back. A hand hooked behind my knees and my feet got lifted off the floor.

"Thomas—what—" I squealed as he hugged me to the taut surface he called a chest. Looking up, I saw him smiling a big one.

"Carrying you over the threshold."

"That's when people get married!" I shook my arms out trying to get back into an horizontal position. Nothing done.

"You kidding? I carry people over thresholds all the time. Just ask Gabe." I would've smacked his shoulder for the sarcasm but...

"Your shoulder—"

"It's fine. I've been lifting weights heavier than you since the accident."

The accident. Thomas didn't feel too chummy with the notion his own mother had shot him. Accidentally or not.

I heard keys jingling. Tuning down humor, Trip leaned his mouth to mine.

"It's our apartment, Ava. We're moving in together—we're actually doing this."

"Just hit you, huh?"

"Yep."

"Scared?"

"A little," couldn't blame him. "Are we insane?"

"We should move into Arkham's asylum." Thomas sported a grin. "Well, what are you waiting for? Take us in."

He did after kissing me wholeheartedly. A kiss filled with promise, excitement and a bit of fear. I had to resist prolonging it.

Setting me down, I looked at our home. Our. Had a nice ring to it.

On the ample living room was a cozy, four-seat couch. White velvet, with red pillows. In front of it was a round, two-level coffee table. A sophisticated bookcase-TV-stand was pressed into the wall, with the plasma from Trip's suite. A lamp stationed to the side, along with a modest-sized desk and office chair.

"Like it?" I asked. "Valerie helped with color-matching—she's unsurprisingly better than me." I said looking over to the shelves with both our stuff.

He walked around, touching occasional things. "She's better at calling the shots, you mean."

My nose twitched, "She's not a bad friend."

Thomas turned, "Friend, huh?"

Blushing, I shrugged.

"She's different once you get to know her. I think she's just lonely and sick of everyone rubbing her the right way to get cool-stamps." I placed my hands on his hips. "Sound familiar?"

"No idea what you're talking about." He knew.

I took him by the hand into our bedroom. Letting the door slip, I bit my lip on a big level. Jesus. No matter how many times I saw it, it was still a Godly big bed. A four poster one. All black wood, thick and expensive.

"Now this—" Thomas whispered. "This I can take credit for. Picked it out myself."

Holy crap on a cracker. This was ours. We were going to sleep in it. Every night. And wake up to each other every day.

This was happening.

After all the twists and turns, we were finally here. Together. Free of our pasts, free of guilt and blackmail. We weren't a fake couple or two lonely people. We were two people who knew each other on every single level.

Every level—but one.

"Thomas," I whispered, feeling my lips tip. "I'm ready."

I had no idea what triggered those words. Or the fact that I felt ready. My insides were dancing like wild monkeys, heart jamming to the sound of dub-step.

"Ready?" he asked. "Oh." I nodded fast, hooking my fingers in the hem of his jeans. "Ava—"

"I'm ready for this. I want it. I want you."

"Baby, you have me. You don't need to rush anything, I'm not gonna run or—"

What if something happened? If I got near losing him again? No matter how many promises he made, I'd never get over the feelings I got after Gabriel's disturbing call. Dread had spread over my heart like ice.

I popped the button. Thomas' jaw clenched.

"I want this," I whispered in a smile. "You want this..." my point was made when he shivered under my fingertips. "Don't make me beg you."

"Ah, fuck." Was all he said before smacking us together in a furor of passion.

I clenched my thighs around his hips. Trip lifted me, plunging for my mouth. Our lips clung, tongues overlapped—feeling each other up. Thomas was on fire tossing his Tee. I whined when he disappeared, standing over me bare-chested.

Hmm, yummy.

He went still as my hands ran down his pecks, teasing their edges, making him yield.

"Sure?" I made a needy face. He threw his head back with a laugh. "Guess so,"

Slipping down, he tossed my sandals, undid my jeans. I helped the task by wiggling out of them. Thomas ran his hands over my bare legs eliciting a cry of joy. On the way up, they stroke my inner thighs. For the life of me, I couldn't remember a time when I'd shivered so hard and felt so divinely hot.

"Ava," he whispered kneeling, both my legs between his. "You're so beautiful, so, so perfect."

I wanted to touch him. He was far from my arms, but not my legs. I hooked them around his waist. Taking it as an incentive, Trip ran a finger down my length. My head fell back with a contained groan. He did it again, pushing harder. It was like hitting a pleasure button or something.

"You always like this." He mused softly, seeming to rub innocently when I saw he loved making me edgy.

My legs tightened, propelling him closer. Thomas smirked sliding the delicate strap of my panties down. A minute later, my hot bundle of nerves got hit by a fresh wave of air. A moan escaped.

"You make me so crazy, baby." Thomas' fingers dug into my hips while he teased my sex with his mouth—a new swirl of ecstasy.

I wrapped my hands into his hair, pulling hard with each tingle breaking across my sensitive cells. It wasn't long before he traveled north, kissing my lips. Lifting off bed so he could pull my shirt off, I dragged my nails down his back feeling him purr.

The bra unfastened and I was left utterly naked. Trip looked down at me and it was like watching wind getting knocked out of him.

He rubbed between my breasts, circling, before actually touching them. When he did cup one, I wanted to melt. He squeezed, then lowered his mouth, crossing our gazes on purpose. His precious blue gems gripped mine as his lips closed around the hardened tip.

My muscles flexed into him, I explored the flawless skin of Thomas' back. Soft as a baby's. My legs fought with his unzipped pants, pushing them down. Thomas moved to the other one. By that time, I was immobile. Embracing his neck, gripping his mid-section.

I said his name in a breathy mess a couple dozen times. He lowered himself. I felt his want for me brushing my thigh.

"Ugh... Thomas..." he came up then, glazed eyes and a lazy smile. Likey. "...jeans..." I mumbled as waves bust into me.

Caressing my nipples, he complied, getting rid of the jeans. In a daze of wondrous pleasure, I saw him about to slip his boxers off.

I shot up, gripping the band.

"Not yet," I murmured pushing Thomas onto bed. I was on top. Unsure of what I was doing exactly.

I'd never done this before. He was used to virgins. The thought was sour and I shoved it from our moment. Refusing to let anything stain it. I could make him feel good, too. I wasn't Catherine or any of those models.

I was Ava and...

"I love you." I ducked my head, kissing up his chin, his nose—tangling our lips.

I sucked on his neck as he got me between his legs, breathing harshly. I made sure to touch everyplace. Kissing the scar below his left shoulder, down his chest, following the hair leading into his manhood.

The heat between my legs wasn't going away—creating a heavy distraction. I pressed closer, feeling him near my core.

"I need you," I breathed over his neck.

Trip traced my hips, hand curling on my butt cheeks. Holy. Crap.

"Need me how, baby?"

"You know how." I urged.

"I don't."

My hair fell as a dark curtain around us. The blunt tip of my finger dragged over his bottom lip.

"Touch me." A smug smirk took shape, a hand traveled down my thigh, stroking close to me. He edged each finger nearer—before dragging back. I groaned forcing us together. "Please touch me, Thomas."

The torture ended once he cupped my sex. I jerked at the sudden move, then sighed blissfully. Trip tracked kisses down my throat, slipping in a finger. Many slow in-and-out motions later, I was building into an explosive wave.

I was aching for him to delve deep. The hot poking need couldn't be ignored longer.

"I want you—all of you." He growled a masculine sound. "Do you want me?"

"Don't fucking kid me with that." I smiled sexily.

Hooking my fingers on the strap, I pulled down. Trip eased himself out leaving me to swallow. In all the times we'd experimented, he'd never let me touch him. Or see it. I couldn't be sure—I had no other to compare it to—but Thomas was huge.

Tentatively, I wrapped my fingers around him. It was swollen and hard.

"Just for you, baby..." I squirmed and Thomas kissed my head. "I have to get protection..." his breaths were growing shallow. It might've been because of my curious finger, running from its tip to its base.

His hips arched off bed. Nice.

Trip was back with the little square and I lost all time notion from there.

I felt a little pain when he slipped inside, feeling myself tighten around him, muscles clenching and hips rolling in. Thomas was being gentle, every so often he'd stop fanning my face with loving kisses.

Shudders of all sizes knocked me over as his fullness pulsed against my walls, rocked against every little spot. Desire filled my bloodstream as I wrapped an arm around him, rocking against Thomas—breaths erratic.

Tension piled up, making us go faster, stronger. I buried my nose in Trip's honey hair, smelling the musky scent. In a burst, I clung with all I had, calling out for him.

Thomas didn't stay far behind. Jolts overpowered his frame. Thomas' head dropped to my shoulder. Then he laid down. On my body. We were sweating.

My arms wrapped him awfully close. Didn't matter he was crushing my air out.

"That was..." my fingers danced down his back.

"Bad?"

He grunted, moving off to the side. I wondered when we'd pulled off the duvet and sheets. Thomas didn't care, pulling them over us. I giggled into his chest. It was the middle of the afternoon.

"That was perfect." He tipped my chin. Blue eyes glinting with thick emotion. "Now I know what the fuss is about."

"I'm pretty sure that should be my line." His strong arm cozied me up.

Thomas closed his eyes momentarily. Did he feel as exhausted as I did?

"To me," he started. "You are my first. My first everything—that's my truth."

I blinked, feeling a watery smile spread.