Strains

Dante. I sat back in the wheelchair, watching Azalea as she did her warm-up stretches. Being around her had become more unbearable by the second, and it wasn’t because I didn’t want to be near her. In fact, I wanted her. I wanted to be all over her. A little too fucking much to my liking. I had no idea what had changed. Since I woke up I’d been unable to shed her from my thoughts. She lingered in them like a fucking fly to toast covered in honey. I rubbed my face, cursing myself as I caught a perfect glimpse of her ass as she bent down to stretch out her leg in front of her. “This is a waste of time,” she complained. “Why not just jump straight to the exercises and call it a day? I have work I need to do. I don’t want to go to bed past twelve, again, only to get up at six,” she ground out. “Again.” “Welcome to my world,” I muttered, dropping my hand. “For fuck sakes,” I cursed, tearing my eyes from her, and stared at the fading, gray paint on the wall. I really needed to get someone to