Crossing The Lines ( Sleeping With My Best Friends) Novels & Stories

My legs were so sore, and it hurt like hell. I didn't have any regrets earlier, but now, regret was slowly eating me up. I hadn’t just cheated on my boyfriend—I’d also betrayed my best friend! Not to mention he was… my stepbrother… The line was blurred—in fact, more than blurred, the line was trashed! No. I had to get out of here. I stood to my feet, and tried to drag my legs to where my dress lay. And once I was there, I picked it up. I froze in place as something fell from my dress, making a clattering sound.

At seventeen, Damien Delta severed all ties with his best friend. Without a single word or explanation, he cut Harrison Kane, out of his life completely. For years, Damien stayed on the circuit, masterfully calculating his schedule to make sure their paths never crossed. When dodging Harrison became too difficult, Damien quit driving altogether, stepping away from the track to build the cars instead. He thought he was safe behind the scenes. He was wrong. When the Delta empire faces complete ruin, Damien is forced to break his own golden rule. Dragged out of retirement for SLAT—the most prestigious, brutal racing tournament in the world—he has to step back into the driver's seat.  And

and I begged for more. then I realized one terrifying, exhilarating truth: I had crossed the line. There was no going back.

I click to open the message. FROM: unknown number /"Are you already sleeping?"/ Hmm. Who might be this, huh? Why I didn't know that this friend of mine has a flirtation? I need to meet this guy to find out if he is handsome and has clear intentions towards my friend. *giggles* Another message pops up from the same number causing my eyebrows to raise tensely. Seriously? ~*~ THE NEXT MORNING. CASSANDRA's POV

< Rose > Zion’s room came into full view as I opened my eyes. I rolled slightly away from him, trying not to wake him up. I let out a small gasp of air. It had been real. I had slept with my best friend’s ex boyfriend. Shit. my eyes travelled along the ceiling. There was a large, incomplete painting of a naked woman and her lover. I looked around for my clothes. I remembered we had pulled our tops in the sitting room. I was wearing a denim jean skirt when he carried me into the room.

"Don't cry. Where are you? I'll come find you." Hearing, I didn't feel like arguing with him anymore. The door closed behind him. Zach, who had just promised to always stay by my side, didn't even bother to say goodbye as he left. My stomach turned. I stumbled into the bathroom and threw up all the tea I had just drunk. There was bile and blood, and darkness began to consume me. Just before I passed out on the cold bathroom floor, I caught a glimpse of Jessica's latest post on her social feed.

Our kisses were torrid, desperate, like we were trying to erase something—or someone—from our minds. My hands gripping her hips as I ground against her. Her moans were loud, unapologetic, and they fueled the fire burning in my chest. But beneath the surface of my desire, there was something darker, something I couldn’t shake. The image of Damien, my best friend, fucking some stranger in his car flashed in my mind. I’d seen it all—the way Damien’s hands had gripped the stranger’s waist, the way his head had thrown back in pleasure. He was supposed to be waiting for me at the supermarket, but instead, he’d chosen someone else. The betrayal stung, deep and raw, but I pushed it down. I wouldn’t

I had to make sure my heart wouldn't break, so I stood taller, arching my back, willing the fear which grasped my heart tightly back down. "Adam, I guess I believe you. But I wish it were easier for me to see that you were truly real. I mean, come on, don't you know that I have been having these weird hallucinations?" I said while shrugging my shoulders, not ready to reveal what was laid upon my heart. Yet, Adam, my best friend from childhood, who's still married for Moon Goddess' sake, had this way about him that helps break down my walls. Which is something I had yearned for, for a long time. And now, being with him, which I know is forbidden, is something I desperately need.

I wish I could scream how good it feels, how he owns me right now, how no one else has ever made me come like this. But the secret makes it hotter. The more I think about her sleeping next door, the tighter I clench around him. He groans louder—feels it. “Fuck, you’re squeezing me so hard. You love this, don’t you? Fucking your best friend’s man behind her back.” I can’t speak. Just moan into the pillow—high, desperate, broken. My nails dig into the sheets. He reaches around, finds my clit, rubs fast, rough circles.

Let them say it. I am sleeping with my best friend's son. I started it deliberately, with full knowledge, without apology. Because the woman I used to call my best friend has been sleeping with my husband since before he became my husband. And the man I call my husband has spent six years using my money, my career, my reputation, and my silence as raw material for a life I was never supposed to survive with anything left. So yes. I am a sinner. But I did not arrive here by accident.