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

“We’re not something? We’re not allowed to be? We’re not supposed to be because we’re friends?” I looked away, but his fingers on my thigh flexed in warning. “I’m saying this doesn’t have to mean—” “It already means something,” he cut in, the words firm. “Twice in the same week, we’ve crossed a line we can’t uncross. You think I can go back to pretending your body doesn’t keep me awake at night?” My breath hitched. I didn’t answer. I didn’t know how to open my mouth without screaming out yes to his offer, at the top of my lungs.

I ask what have you done with yourself all the time here alone in the dorm? "Beuty Sleep," I lie. I can't tell them about the email I sent. Or some of the hacking books I lay and read. "Sorry. it didn't help, Erick my guy," Bill grinned. "You're still very much an ugly guy." "That's not what Isabella says when she's lying in my arms." "She's lying to you. Now take it from a buddy. Girls will say anything, as long as they get what they want." "Hey, that rhymes!" laughed JT.

“Because the way I see it, there is nothing wrong with two people sharing a perfectly large enough bed provided they aren’t crossing any lines. Or do you plan to cross any lines while we are here?” “What?”I asked in confusion, finding it a little hared to reconcile what he was implying with what he was actually saying. “I asked…” He repeated, inching closer to me with every word he said. “…if you had any intentions of having your wicked way with me while I slept because I most certainly have no intentions of having mine with you.” As he said the last part, his gaze raked over me from head to toe as if to say, “Even though I would really love to.” And I had to blink rapidly in order to delete

Everything seems to happen so slowly, like my brain decided to reduce the pace so that every moment gets ingrained in my head. I watch with my mouth wide open as Ares lifts his tall frame off her body, with no sight of remorse in view. As my best friend, who I have known all my life, cleans her smeared lipstick off with her thumb, she is doing nothing to cover up her boobs on display. "Vivienne," I whisper again, hoping that this is some sort of prank. That my husband and my best friend have really not been sleeping together behind my back. She sighs, resting her back on the couch. Her eyes meet mine, and what stares back at me is so different from what I remember in the hospital room. She w

After hanging up, I ignored the nurse and left the hospital. I couldn’t let my parents be bullied like this. Back at the villa, my parents leaned on each other, struggling to stand at the doorway. From the living room came the unmistakable sounds of Seraphina and Alaric’s lovemaking. … I kicked the door open. The two of them scrambled up, clutching at their clothes to cover themselves. Seraphina caught sight of me, a flicker of guilt crossing her eyes, but it vanished almost immediately. “You just had surgery. How did you get out already?”

Because some lines, once crossed, could never be erased. And some fires, once lit, could never be extinguished. And tonight… I could feel it starting. The breaking point. The spark. The line on fire. Tomorrow, we would see who burned. And who survived

Nails left crescent marks in the skin. “I’m — shit — ” Marcus pressed their foreheads together. His breathing came in harsh pants.“Come on. Let go.” Ethan shattered first. His back arched. A choked groan tore out of him as he spilled hot and thick over Marcus’s fist, streaking their stomach. The sight of it — Ethan’s release painting their skin — pushed Marcus over the edge seconds later. He came with a low, guttural curse. Hips stuttering. Adding messy stripes to the mess already there.

The music kept playing…slow, sensual beats that made everything feel more intense. My nipples tightened against my bra, obvious through the thin tank top. I knew he could see. “This is crossing a line,” I said, but my legs shifted anyway, the ribbons sliding smoothly over my thighs. Luca’s eyes darkened. “You’ve been crossing lines in my head for years, Amelia. Every time you bend over in those little shorts. Every time you tell me to fuck off with that fire in your eyes. I think about shutting you up in other ways.”

“I noticed.” Silence folds over us, softer this time, hotter. He traces a slow line at my hip, not moving higher, not moving lower, just letting my skin learn his touch. It’s deliberate torture and it makes my breathing shallow. I let him see that. I want him to see that. “You’re twenty-one,” he says. “Yes.” “You say yes like you want me to cross lines.” “I want you to cross the right ones.” “And the wrong ones?” I tip my head. “We’ll see.”

But I also know John makes me feel something else. Not more. Not less. Something other. That’s the curse. They both give me something I need. The nights repeat like a relentless cycle. There’s passion, yes. But also tension. I close my eyes and see them both. Sometimes I mix up the names. Sometimes I dream of them together, arguing, touching me. And I wake up sweaty, breathless. Am I sick? Or just too alive? I don’t know. I only know there’s no return. That I’ve already crossed the line I swore I wouldn’t.