Chapter twelve

Claire’s POV

The late morning sunlight poured through the half-open blinds of my apartment bedroom, casting striped shadows across the rumpled white sheets. I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling fan spinning lazily above me, its soft hum the only sound in the room. My body felt heavy in the best and worst ways—muscles pleasantly sore, skin still slightly sticky from sweat and Marcus. He had left only twenty minutes ago, slipping out the door with one last deep kiss and a whispered promise to see me soon.

I turned onto my side, pulling the sheet up over my bare breasts. The fabric felt cool against my heated skin. My thighs pressed together, and I could still feel the faint ache where he had been so deep inside me earlier. The memory made heat bloom low in my belly again.

We hadn’t planned to meet this morning. But after the conversation with Lila at the café yesterday, I needed him. Needed to feel something real. He arrived quickly, and the moment the door closed behind him, clothes came off in a frantic rush.

I closed my eyes, replaying every detail.

Marcus had pushed me against the kitchen counter first, his mouth hot and demanding on mine. His hands slid under my robe, finding me already wet. He lifted me onto the counter, spread my legs wide, and dropped to his knees. The cool marble pressed against my ass as his tongue licked slow, deliberate strokes over my folds, circling my clit until I was gripping his hair and moaning loudly. He added two fingers, curling them perfectly while sucking on that sensitive bundle of nerves. I came hard, trembling and gasping his name.

Then he stood, freed his thick cock, and thrust into me in one smooth motion. The stretch was perfect, almost too much. He fucked me right there on the counter—hard, deep strokes that made the cabinets rattle. His hands gripped my hips, eyes locked on mine as he drove into me again and again.

     “Tell me you’re mine,” he had growled against my ear.

    “I’m yours,” I had whimpered back, legs wrapped tight around his waist.

We moved to the bedroom after that. He took me from behind on all fours, one hand fisted in my hair, the other rubbing my clit as he pounded into me. I came twice more before he finally finished deep inside me, groaning my name as he pulsed hot and thick.

Now, alone in the aftermath, guilt crept in like cold water. I sat up slowly, the sheet pooling around my waist. I walked to the bathroom, turning on the shower. Hot water cascaded over my body as I stood under the spray, scrubbing away the evidence of the morning. But no amount of soap could wash away the knowledge of what I was doing. I leaned my forehead against the cool tile, letting the water run down my back.

Why couldn’t I stop?

Marcus wasn’t just sex. He was the one person who made me feel wanted beyond the role of “middle sister.” Evelyn had always been the golden one. Lila was the free spirit. I existed somewhere in between—reliable but never special. With Marcus, I felt seen. Craved.

I finished showering, dried off, and dressed in comfortable loungewear. The apartment felt too quiet. I made myself a cup of coffee and sat at the small dining table near the window, watching cars pass on the street below. My mind drifted to Lila. Her hesitant confession about her new boyfriend yesterday. The way her eyes had sparkled when she talked about feeling desired. It hit too close to home.

A knock on the door startled me. I set the coffee down and peered through the peephole. Sophie stood outside, arms crossed, expression cold.

I opened the door slowly. “What do you want?”

Sophie stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, her heels clicking on the hardwood. She looked polished as always—tailored blouse, perfect makeup—but her eyes were sharp with anger.

    “You’re still seeing him,” she said flatly, closing the door behind her. “I saw his car leave here this morning.”

I crossed my arms, matching her stance. “This isn’t your business, Sophie.”

     “It became my business when you started fucking your sister’s husband.” She took a step closer, voice low. “I gave you time. I warned you. Evelyn is my best friend. She deserves better than this betrayal.”

My heart hammered. I could still taste Marcus on my lips.

     “You don’t understand what it’s like between us.”

Sophie laughed bitterly, shaking her head.

     “I understand perfectly. You’re selfish. Both of you. And if you don’t end it before tomorrow’s dinner, I will show Evelyn everything. Photos. Messages. Timestamps. All of it.”

The threat hung heavy in the air between us. I could see the determination in her eyes, the way her jaw tightened. She wasn’t bluffing.

      “I need more time,” I whispered, the fight draining from my voice.

      “You’ve had years.” Sophie turned toward the door, pausing with her hand on the knob. “Fix this, Claire. Or I will.”

The door clicked shut behind her. I sank onto the couch, head in my hands. Tears pricked at my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. The apartment suddenly felt smaller, the walls closing in.

Later that afternoon, I drove to the grocery store to pick up the wine for tomorrow’s dinner. The aisles were brightly lit, filled with the sounds of shopping carts and casual chatter. I moved slowly, picking up a bottle of Evelyn’s favorite red, then another for Lila. My hands trembled slightly as I placed them in the basket. As I turned down the next aisle, I nearly collided with someone. Strong hands steadied me.

     “Careful,” Marcus said softly, a small smile on his lips. He was dressed casually in a button-down and jeans, looking far too good for a simple grocery run.

My breath caught. “What are you doing here?”

     “Picking up a few things.” His eyes darkened as they roamed over me. “Couldn’t stop thinking about this morning.”

We stood close in the aisle, the air thick between us. I could smell his cologne, the same scent that had been on my skin earlier. My body reacted instantly—heat pooling low, nipples tightening under my shirt.

      “Not here,” I whispered, but I didn’t pull away when his fingers brushed mine on the shopping cart.

Marcus leaned in slightly, voice low. “I want you again. Tonight.”

I swallowed hard. “We have dinner with Evelyn tomorrow. This is getting too dangerous.”

     “Exactly why I need you tonight.” His thumb traced a small circle on the back of my hand. “One more time before we have to pretend.”

The temptation was becoming too much. I nodded before I could think better of it. We didn’t kiss in the store, but the promise in his eyes followed me all the way home. Later that evening, when he arrived at my apartment again, the passion was even more intense. He took his time undressing me, worshipping every inch of my body with his mouth until I was begging. When he finally pushed inside me, slow and deep on my bed, I clung to him like he was my lifeline. We moved together for a long time—slow, then fast, then slow again. Multiple positions. Multiple orgasms. By the time we finished, I was exhausted, sated, and completely wrecked emotionally. As Marcus dressed to leave in the dark hours of early morning, he kissed me softly.

      “Tomorrow will be fine,” he murmured. “Just act normal.”

I watched him go, the door closing with a quiet click. Alone in my bed, the sheets tangled around me, I stared at the ceiling once more. Tomorrow I would sit at my sister’s table, eat her food, and look her in the eyes after spending the day filled with her husband. The guilt was crushing. But the pull toward Marcus was stronger and I had no idea how much longer I could keep living like this.