I swore I'd never touch him. Not because I didn't want to - because wanting him felt like the ultimate betrayal.

Everyone knew Ryan belonged to her. My best friend spent years dreaming about him, memorizing the way he laughed, building a future in her head with his name written all over it. He never noticed her. He noticed me.

One storm-soaked night, trapped together with nowhere to run and nothing left to lose, the tension that had simmered for years finally snapped. His hands found my waist before either of us could think better of it. His mouth crashed against mine like an apology and a confession at once. I told myself it would stop at a kiss.

It didn't.

He f****d me like he'd been starving for me his entire life - rough hands, ragged breath, my name torn from his throat like it was the only word he knew. Every touch felt like a secret we'd both regret and crave in equal measure. When morning came, I couldn't undo what we'd done, couldn't unfeel the way my body still burned for him.

Now I have to look my best friend in the eye and pretend nothing happened, while every nerve in my body remembers exactly how he tastes, how he moves, how he ruined me for anyone else.

One night wasn't supposed to change everything. But some mistakes feel too good to regret - and too dangerous to walk away from.