My Husband Hired My Temptation Next Door

At the peak of my vitality, how could I stand this? My husband and I had been living apart for years, and the loneliness was eating me alive.

But what tortured me even more were the sounds from the next bedroom—my sister-in-law Vanessa and her boyfriend Chase, lost in pleasure night after night.

My name is Vivian Laurent. Thirty years old, in my prime, yet sleeping alone in a king-sized bed.

Late at night, the emptiness pressed down on me. Memories of my wedding night—wild, desperate, alive—flashed behind my eyelids. I twisted in the sheets, unable to escape the heat coiling low in my stomach.

And then—those sounds.

Vanessa's breathy moans, Chase's rough murmurs, the rhythmic creak of the bed. They never stopped. It was like they were trying to set the walls on fire.

I curled around a pillow, my skin prickling with restless need. Six months. Six months since my husband left for work. Six months without a man's touch.

A particularly sharp gasp from next door sent a jolt through me. My thighs clenched. My pulse spiked.

And then—oh God.

A shudder ripped through me, sudden and overwhelming. Heat flooded my core, soaking through my clothes.

Pathetic.

Face burning, I bolted from bed, desperate for the bathroom. But as I passed Vanessa's room, the sight through the cracked door froze me in place.

They were a tangle of limbs, skin slick with sweat, lost in each other. The raw hunger in their movements stole my breath.

I couldn't look away.

My fingers twitched toward the hem of my nightgown—

Then they broke apart.

I fled, heart hammering, slamming the bathroom door behind me.

Too close.

If Vanessa had caught me watching like some desperate voyeur, she would've flayed me alive.

I sank onto the toilet, pressing a hand to my racing heart. The earlier heat had faded, leaving only a dull, aching emptiness.

After cleaning up, I tossed my damp underwear into the hamper, took a shaky breath, and opened the door—