My best friend's wife 3

I couldn’t stay in that house a minute longer—not with the taste of her still on my lips, not with the sound of her tears echoing in my head. So I grabbed my keys and drove until muscle memory brought me to the edge of town, to a place I hadn’t stepped into in years.

The local pub.

It looked exactly the same. Dim lights, worn leather booths, and a jukebox that still played old rock ballads on loop. A few familiar faces nodded at me, but I didn’t acknowledge them. I wasn’t here to socialize. I needed air. Space. A moment where my heart wasn’t clawing at my chest. I slid into a stool at the bar and ordered a whiskey. Neat. The first sip burned—just enough to remind me I was still alive. Just enough to distract me from the storm in my head.

That kiss.

God, that kiss.

It shouldn’t have happened. She’s married. I should’ve walked away the moment I saw her crying. I should’ve offered a kind word and left it at that. But no. I kissed her like I’d been starving for it—because I had. And even though it was wrong, it felt right. That was the part I couldn’t ignore. I closed my eyes and exhaled deeply, the glass turning in my hand. I didn’t just cross a line; I launched myself over it willingly. And the worst part? I would do it again if it meant feeling her mouth on mine, her warmth, her softness, the way she melted into me like we were made for each other. But I hate myself for putting her in that position, for making her feel like she had to choose between right and real. And then there’s Daniel.

The way he spoke to her. The way he didn’t even flinch while she cleared the table, crying alone in the kitchen. The fights. The coldness. I didn’t need a full picture to start connecting the dots.

Something’s not right there. I don’t have proof—not yet—but my gut tells me there’s more beneath the surface. Alina’s eyes weren’t just sad. They were scared, tired, like a woman who’d forgotten what it felt like to be cherished. And if I find out that Daniel’s been hurting her physically, emotionally, in any way at all…

I swear to God, I’ll kill him.

I’ve already lost her once. This time, I’m not walking away. Not until I know the truth.

By the time I got back to the house, the night air had done little to cool the fire burning inside me. I knew I had to apologize. The kiss that moment wasn’t fair to her. She’s married, and I had no right dragging her heart back into the storm of mine, no matter how deep the feelings run.

I have crossed a line.

I walked in through the front door quietly, the house dim and still. Daniel’s car was gone. Again. Figures. He storms out after tearing her down and leaves her to cry in silence.VI needed to find her. To say I was sorry.

I checked the kitchen, which was empty. The living room was dark. Her voice and presence were nowhere to be seen until I heard something.

A sound.

Soft. Gasping. Almost like—

I froze just outside the library door, my hand hovering above the knob.

Was that… moaning?

I swallowed hard and took a step back, already spinning around to leave. It’s none of my business, I told myself. It’s probably her and Daniel trying to patch things up. Give them privacy. Walk away.

But then I heard it.

Clear. Sultry. My name.

“Jason…”

My body locked in place. Blood surged to my head. My throat tightened. Is this what I think it is? Or am I imagining things now? No. I didn’t imagine that. I turned back to the door, heart pounding in my chest like a drumline. Slowly, carefully, I pushed it open. And what I saw, God help me, will be branded into my mind for the rest of my life. There she was.

Alina.

Lying back on the velvet reading chaise, her legs parted wide open in the most sinful display of need, her head tilted back, eyes closed, mouth open in a breathless moan. Her fingers moved slowly, deliberately, disappearing between her thighs as she whispered my name again, like a prayer.

She looked like a work of art.

My chest rose and fell, air suddenly thick and heavy. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

She didn’t see me.

She was lost in it. In me.

Her hips arched. Her lips parted again. “Jason…” she moaned, voice trembling with desire.

I should’ve left. Closed the door and never said a word. But I didn’t.

I stood there. Watching. Wanting.

And completely undone.