I swore I'd never touch him. Some lines you don't cross - and Weston Cole was the reddest one I had.

He was my best friend's ex. The man she cried over for a year. The man I'd promised, hand on heart, I'd never look twice at.

Then she moved across the country, and Weston showed up at my door with a bottle of wine and an apology I never asked for - and something in me stopped caring about the promise.

One glass turned into two. Two turned into his mouth on mine, into my back against the wall, into him f*****g me so hard I forgot my own name, let alone hers. I told myself it was a one-time mistake. It wasn't. It became Tuesdays. Then every night. Then his hands on my body felt less like betrayal and more like the only thing that made sense.

Weston knows exactly what he's doing to me - every touch calculated, every whispered filthy promise designed to unravel me completely. And I let him. Again. Again. Again.

But secrets like this don't stay buried. And when the truth comes out, I'll have to decide if what we have is worth losing everything - my best friend, my reputation, the person I thought I was - for a man I can't stop craving.

Some best friends share clothes. We share the same bed, the same sins, and a hunger neither of us can outrun.