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17. How Are You?
Data de publicação:
2026-05-11 02:29:08
Último capítulo
Craved By My Husband's Best Friend 17. How Are You?
Marissa POVI sat on the edge of the bed, the silence of the room ringing in my ears. "Oh my goodness," I muttered to the empty air. "I can't believe Hailey actually thought I would sue her. Is that really the kind of person she thinks I am? After everything?"Ethan, who was hovering by the door with a pathetic, lingering gaze, took it as an invitation to speak. "Well, to be fair, Marissa, the way things have been going lately... people don't know what to expect from us anymore.""Ethan, just stop already," I snapped, my eyes flashing with a cold fire. "Look at yourself in the mirror and ask if you know exactly what kind of person you are before you start analyzing my friends."He went still, his hand gripping the doorframe. "I can't say. You tell me.""Well," I started, my voice dripping with a bitter honesty. "Just like I didn't believe you were the kind of man who could cheat on me but you did it anyway. It is better to keep that in the back of your mind. Don't act shocked when
Craved By My Husband's Best Friend 16.You Too...Bye
Marissa POV I carefully parted his hair, my stomach doing a slow, sick roll as the wound finally came into view. It was deep a jagged, angry red canyon in his skin that made me flinch. I grabbed a cotton ball with the holder, my fingers surprisingly steady despite the tequila still humming in my veins. I worked in silence, dabbing away the thick red fluid until the flow finally slowed to a sluggish crawl. Only then did I allow myself a shaky sigh of relief. "Look at us, babe... look what we have turned into," Ethan murmured. His eyes were fixed on mine, swimming with that practiced, heavy sorrow he used whenever he needed to be forgiven. "A huge pile of mess." "Don’t talk as if you didn't destroy this very home we built by yourself, Ethan!" I snapped. I didn't look at him. I focused entirely on the antiseptic, my movements sharp and clinical. "I know, Marissa," he said, his voice dropping into that low, velvet register that used to make my knees weak. He reached for my hand, but I
Craved By My Husband's Best Friend 15. CRACK
Marissa POVI stumbled toward the door, my head spinning from the wine and the sheer, jagged reality of what had just happened on the phone. I yanked the door open, ready to scream, but Ethan beat me to it. He stepped into the light of the foyer, looking more inconvenienced than guilty."Marissa, why are you drunk? Is that why you told me the wrong thing about the code?" he asked, his voice dripping with that smug, 'rational' confidence he always used to make me feel small. I may be drunk but I am not that drunk to forget my passcode and the nerve of him trying to make me look stupid. "No, you idiot!" I barked, the word tearing at my throat. "You are the one who doesn't even remember my birthday! For God's sake, Ethan, you don't even know me at all! We have lived in this house for three years. I have been in your life for seven. How is that possible?""No, no, Marissa. Don't view it that way," he said, stepping inside without an invitation. He shrugged off his coat, already trying t
Craved By My Husband's Best Friend 14. My birthday is May 9th
Marissa POVI twisted the doorknob, my palms slightly damp, not knowing what exactly to expect. Instead of a stiff panel of stone faced interviewers, I spotted a red haired woman, probably in her mid-thirties. She had popping blue eyes that seemed to vibrate with intelligence, and she was staring at me intently as I walked in.She offered me a calm smile and gestured toward the chair across from her. Only then did I allow myself to take a breath and feel the plush carpet beneath my feet."Hello," I started, trying to keep my voice from trembling. "I am here to apply for the role of the lead architect!"She didn't scoff. She didn't even blink."Okay, that is fine. Can I go through your CV?"I handed it over, watching her eyes scan the pages. This was the most polite interviewer I had come across during my entire job hunt. After a moment, she looked up, tapping a manicured nail against the paper."Marissa Harrison, that name does ring a bell. Impressive, impressive, and impressive! Wait
Craved By My Husband's Best Friend 13. Your Name, Please
Marissa POVI woke up with a start, the sunlight stabbing at my eyes through the gaps in the curtains. My head felt like it had been put through a commercial blender, and my mouth tasted like I had been chewing on copper coins."What the hell happened yesterday?" I groaned, clutching my temples as I tried to piece together the blurred fragments of the night. I stretched out to my bedside table and then poured myself a glass of water. I gulped down its entire content and then I was finally able to breathe properly.Okay, let’s see. I went to the club to forget about my hectic day and my consistent rejections. I drank—a lot. I got swooned by a blonde guy named Elon, which felt like a win until the masked guy spotted us. Then came the teasing, the tension, and the offer to go to his penthouse. I remembered saying yes and the fact that I had bade Hailey goodbyes earlier on... then a very loud, drunken no! And then he took me home.I bolted upright in bed, a cold sweat breaking out. He too
Craved By My Husband's Best Friend 12. My Dear Marissa
Xavier POVThe drive started with a sudden shift in the air. Marissa, who had been leaning into my side with a hazy smile, suddenly stiffened."Drop me at my house," she mumbled, her voice thick with the tequila. "I changed my mind. I want my own bed." She purred, her arms grabbing my chest and pressed on them."Rock hard pecs just like I want it." The minute she said that....an indecipherable emotion flashed across my face and I immediately knew what it was. It was pure, raw and undiluted lust.But I smoothed it over. "Of course. What is the address?" I asked as if I wasn't the one who had sent her a package to her address earlier.Silence. She didn’t answer, her eyes were already fluttering shut again. I didn’t need her to tell me. I’d known the coordinates of her front door for years. I leaned forward and caught the driver’s eye in the rearview mirror."1240 Oakwood Lane," I said quietly.The driver didn’t even blink. He just adjusted the GPS and merged into the late night traffic
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