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0052: SLIPPERY WHEN WET
Last Updated:
2025-12-13 03:16:44
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In Love With My Son's Best Friend 0057: COMPLETELY OWNED
JUNE'S POVNow, I had nothing to feel guilty about. The cage door wasn’t just opening. I was realizing I’d never been the one locked in it. He was. In his lies, his secrets, his pathetic, repeating patterns.And I was free.The shower ran forever. Long enough for that icy clarity to harden into something permanent. I just stood at the kitchen window, watching the reflection of the empty plate, the chair. A crime scene of everyday life.The water shut off. Footsteps moved in our room. The thought felt ancient. It was his room. A museum I was tired of visiting.He came back down in sweats, his hair damp. “You sure you’re okay? You’re quiet.”I turned. “I’m sure.” I looked him over, not like a wife would do her husband, but like a coroner. “How was Chicago, really?”He shrugged, grabbing a bottle water from the fridge. “Like I said. Fine. Endless meetings with clients negotiating new terms and contracts. You know the drill.”“I do,” I said, calm as anything. “I know the drill very well,
In Love With My Son's Best Friend 0056: GUILTY COLLAR
JUNE’S POVYou know that sound of your husband’s key in the door after a trip? It used to be a relief, like an anchor dropping back into place. That night, it was just a noise, a signal that the next act of a play I was too tired to perform was about to start.He came in smelling like stale airplane air and that cologne he has worn for years. He dropped his suitcase with a solid thud. “God, what a week,” he sighed, already shrugging out of his jacket. Before I could even muster a hello, he pulled me into one of his standard-issue hugs. It was firm and quick, his mind clearly still back in some boardroom.And that’s when I saw it. Over his shoulder, in the hall mirror. Stark against his white collar. A smudge. A rosy, pink, can’t-miss-it lipstick smudge.For a second, the world didn’t spin. It just snapped. Everything clicked into this sickening, high-definition focus.Karen.The name hit my gut like a fist. His secretary. My lovely twentieth-anniversary present. I could still see his
In Love With My Son's Best Friend 0055: HIGH DRAMA
JUNE'S POV“Mom, are you listening?”Marlene’s voice snapped me back. She was looking at me, hopeful and bright. “Olivia’s mom says we can go to the lake house this weekend. Can I? Please?”I blinked. The lake house. A whole weekend. Space. Distance. My heart jumped before I could stop it, a small, embarrassing leap of hope.“I… I’ll have to talk to Sarah,” I said. “But maybe.”“Yes.” Marlene grabbed Olivia and did a quick victory spin. “It’s going to be epic. You should come, Adrian. Bring Luca.”The air tightened. Adrian shrugged. “Maybe. If we’re not doing anything else.”Luca stayed silent. He lifted his mug and held my gaze over the rim. Something sharp and electric passed between us in that second. Is this your way out? A weekend away?It felt like one. Like a rope thrown into rough water. Time to think. To breathe. To step back before everything collapsed.But when I really looked at him, past the careful stance and neutral expression, I saw the same exhaustion I felt sitting h
In Love With My Son's Best Friend 0054: BLUSHING AND BULL SHIT
JUNE’S POVLuca crossed the kitchen to the coffee pot like nothing in the world had shifted overnight. An easy roll of his shoulders, that loose confidence he wore so well. His voice came out calm, almost bored, like he was commenting on the weather.“Couldn’t sleep. My head was pounding like never before. Needed to clear it, so I went for a swim.”A swim. In the dark. Alone.The lie was so neat, so reasonable, delivered with such steady ease that my knees nearly gave out from the relief of it. My body reacted before my mind could catch up, a soft rush through my chest, like I had been holding my breath longer than I realized.Adrian didn’t hesitate. He nodded, already convinced. “You should’ve texted me. I would’ve joined you.”“Next time,” Luca said lightly.He poured his coffee and only then turned around, settling back against the counter. His eyes skimmed over me, polite, distant, as if he were seeing me for the first time. Or choosing to.“Good morning, Mrs. Wallace. You look lo
In Love With My Son's Best Friend 0053: TOO OLD FOR THIS DRAMA
JUNE’S POVI woke up before dawn, in that thin gray hour when the house feels like it’s holding its breath.Luca was still asleep, warm and solid behind me, his arm a heavy weight around my waist. Like he belonged there. For one stupid second, I let myself pretend this was normal. Just how mornings went. You wake up tangled in someone who wants you, someone whose body fits yours like it always had.Then reality crept in. Quiet. Relentless.The house was too still. Too familiar. Franklin’s house. My house. Every faint creak in the walls felt like an accusation.I shifted carefully, trying not to wake him. His hand tightened anyway, his fingers flexing against my hip. Like his body knew I was pulling away before his mind caught up. He pressed his face into the back of my neck, breathing me in, a slow, sleep-heavy sigh. That almost broke me.“June?” His voice was rough with sleep. Soft. Not demanding.“I need a minute,” I whispered.He loosened his hold right away. No fight. No guilt. Ju
In Love With My Son's Best Friend 0052: SLIPPERY WHEN WET
JUNE’S POVThe dryer kept thumping behind me, a dull, steady rhythm that should have been ordinary, but everything felt too loud inside my own skin. My palms pressed flat against the washer, still warm from the spin cycle, and the heat soaked into my hands while my thighs shook so badly I thought they might just fold.I could feel myself slick and open, aching in this deep, relentless way that made me bite the inside of my cheek just to keep from whimpering out loud.His taste was still on my tongue. Not just his mouth, but me on him, after he’d slid those fingers out and kissed me like he wanted me to know exactly how wet I was for him. I kept replaying it, the way he’d looked at me while he licked them clean, eyes never leaving mine. Like he already owned every secret I had.He hadn’t moved away. He just stood there, close enough that I felt the hard length of him resting against me, not pushing, just there. Burning through the fabric. I could feel him pulse once, like his body was
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