But David was already drifting back to sleep, his body heavy with exhaustion from days of worry about Nina, from work stress, from the emotional toll of their family crisis.

He didn't respond to her quiet plea, his breathing deepening as sleep reclaimed him.

Linda tried once more, placing a gentle hand on his chest, pressing closer. "David, please..."

But he didn't budge. Didn't stir. The man who had been her partner for years was simply too tired, too overwhelmed by everything else in their lives to recognize her desperate need.

Linda gave up, rolling back to her side of the makeshift bed.

The rejection... innocent though it was... felt like the final straw.

Here she was, burning with desire so intense it made her hands shake, and the one person she should be able to turn to was completely oblivious.

This is what my marriage has become, she realized with devastating clarity. Comfortable. Predictable. Safe.

But Alex... Alex made her feel alive in ways she'd forgotten were possible. With him, she felt seen, desired, important.

The way he looked at her, spoke to her, trusted her... it awakened something in her that had been dormant for years.

She tried to sleep, but her thoughts and her arousal wouldn't let her breathe normally. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Alex's face, felt the ghost of his arms around her, imagined what it would be like if he looked at her the way she'd seen him look at that mystery woman.

Finally, unable to bear it any longer, Linda quietly slipped from the bed. She needed cold water on her face, needed space to breathe, needed something to calm the fire that was consuming her from within.

A bath, she thought desperately. Cold water. Maybe that will help.

She stood up carefully, not wanting to wake Nina, and padded quietly toward the small bathroom attached to their hospital room.

But even as she moved, she knew the truth: this wasn't something that could be washed away with cold water. What was happening to her ran too deep, had taken root too firmly in her heart and body.

As she reached for the bathroom door handle, Linda caught sight of her reflection in the darkened window... flushed cheeks, wild eyes, the unmistakable look of a woman completely undone by desire.

God help me, she thought, stepping into the bathroom and closing the door softly behind her. I'm falling apart.

Outside, in the quiet hospital room, Nina slept peacefully while David remained lost in exhausted slumber, both unaware that the woman who held their family together was slowly unraveling just steps away.

The forbidden desire that had been building for days had finally reached its breaking point, and Linda was no longer sure she had the strength to fight it.

***

The small bathroom was cloaked in shadows, the faint light above the mirror humming weakly.

Linda pressed her back against the closed door, her breath coming too fast, too shallow.

Her reflection caught her eye. Her hair was messy, her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright with a hunger she couldn't hide.

She almost didn't recognize the woman staring back.

What's happening to me? she thought desperately. This isn't me…

And yet, it was.

She peeled her clothes away, each layer slipping from her body until nothing was left between her and the air that seemed far too heavy to breathe.

The coolness of the tiled floor beneath her feet should have grounded her, but it didn't. She felt hot, unbearably so, as though her very skin were on fire.

Linda reached for the shower handle, her fingers trembling slightly. She twisted it, and a rush of cold water slammed against her skin, sending a sharp shock through her body.

The icy cascade stole her breath, making her gasp and shiver, goosebumps prickling over every curve.

For a fleeting moment, the cold felt like a reprieve, a jolt that grounded her from the fiery storm raging inside.

Yet even as the chill washed over her, it only heightened the sensations she couldn't suppress... the heat beneath her skin, the thrum of desire that refused to yield.

She pressed herself instinctively against the tiled wall, shivering, heart racing, caught between the biting cold and the illicit warmth that wouldn't be denied.

Water coursed down her body in rivulets, trailing over her curves, tracing every contour as if nature itself was intent on worshiping her.

She shut her eyes, hoping the shower would cleanse not just her skin, but the storm that had taken root inside her.

But the more she tried to drown the feeling, the fiercer it burned.

Her eyes fluttered closed. She tried to think of David, to anchor herself to the man she was supposed to want.

But every time she reached for his image, Alex's face intruded instead... his strong jaw, the steady way he held her when she'd broken down, the scent of him that lingered in her memory like a sin she kept returning to.

Her hands moved without her noticing at first, gliding over her damp skin, tracing curves that felt suddenly alive beneath her own touch.

Her heart pounded, her breath came shallow, and her hands moved restlessly... over her shoulders, down her arms, across her waist.

At first, it was innocent. A touch meant for comfort. A way to soothe.

Then came the whispers.

"Stop thinking about him…" she told herself.

But the image of him... his eyes, the way he carried himself, the subtle power in his silence... slipped through her defenses.

Her lips parted, trembling. No. He's your son's friend. It's wrong.

But her mind, that treacherous ally, responded with a darker thought, soft and poisonous:

"So what if he's your son's friend? He's not your blood. Not your flesh. Not your son."

The words echoed, louder than the rush of water. And with them, her last line of defense crumbled.

Her hands froze where they rested on her body, her nails pressing lightly into her damp skin.

A wave of shame crashed over her... yet mingled with it was a deeper, more dangerous thrill.

She had spent years being the perfect mother, the respectable woman. But here, in the privacy of her own home, the mask slipped. And underneath it… she was just a woman. A woman starved. A woman aching.

Her breath hitched as the thought solidified: Yes, he isn't truly my son, then what stops me?

Her body answered for her.

Almost trembling, her hands slid upward, cupping her breasts. A shudder tore through her as her thumbs brushed across sensitive peaks, the touch electrifying in a way she hadn't felt in years.

Her head tilted back against the tile, a soft moan escaping her lips, lost in the roar of the shower.

And in her mind, it wasn't her hands at all... it was Alex's. Firm, steady, claiming her as if she were his to take.

Her fingers squeezed harder, rolling her softness between them as waves of pleasure rippled through her.

The fantasy sharpened: his mouth at her neck, his breath hot against her ear, the husky way he would murmur her name if he ever let himself cross that line.

Her knees weakened under the rush of it.

One hand trailed lower, slipping past her stomach, trembling as it ventured where she had denied herself for far too long. The moment her fingers brushed her most intimate place, her body jolted as if shocked. A broken gasp escaped her throat.

"Ah—Alex…"

The name slipped out before she could stop it.

She pressed harder, circling slowly, feeding the fire that had been caged for too long. Her hips moved with her touch, desperate, greedy, chasing every ounce of forbidden pleasure.

The fantasy consumed her completely now. She could see him... those eyes, that smirk, the strength in his frame... hovering over her, pinning her down, making her his.

Her back arched against the wall, water cascading over her as she surrendered fully to the image of him. Her moans filled the steam-heavy room, unrestrained, shameless. She was lost.

Her fingers moved faster, deeper, every motion drawing her closer to the edge. Her breaths came in ragged gasps, her body trembling violently as the tension coiled inside her, ready to snap.

And when it finally did, it broke her wide open... pleasure crashing through her in waves so powerful she could barely stay upright. Her cry of release mingled with the sound of water, her body shuddering violently as she clung to the tile for support.

In that moment, she wasn't just Linda. She wasn't a mother, wasn't the respectable woman she had always been.

She was simply a woman who had given in to her most dangerous desire.

And the name on her lips as she collapsed against the wall was his.

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