Drugged His Partner to Claim Me - Chapter 3: Chapter 3

The master bedroom was thick with the rhythmic waves of my husband's snores—deep, oblivious, undisturbed.
Then I felt him. Ethan Lowell's presence loomed behind me, his breath warm against my neck. He hadn't left.
Humiliation and fury twisted inside me as I turned, my voice a blade of ice. "Why are you still here? Waiting for another chance to force yourself on me while my husband sleeps?"
His lips parted, surprise flickering in his eyes at my sharpness. But he stayed silent.
For a second, something like guilt crossed his face—
Smack.
My palm struck his cheek with all the rage I'd been choking back. The sound cracked through the room.
"Get. Out."
Ethan touched his stinging skin, but instead of anger, his mouth curled into that infuriating smirk. "As you wish, sis-in-law. Until next time."
Then he was gone.
But the red imprint of my hand lingered on his face—and in my mind. I squeezed my eyes shut, something dark and restless coiling in my chest.
One thing was certain: this secret would rot with me.
Two months later, my husband's late nights became his new routine. Work, he claimed. But with every empty evening, another piece of my hope withered.
No touch. No warmth. Just me, wasting away in this house like something forgotten.
Then, out of nowhere—his call. A business dinner. He wanted me there.
I agreed.
After a quick freshen-up, I drove to the venue, my fingers tight on the wheel.
But fate had other plans.
Ethan.
Right there, in the parking lot.
My pulse spiked. I jerked the wheel to take another route—
HONK!
The car behind me blared its horn, loud and impatient. Heads turned. My stomach dropped.
Tap. Tap.
The knock at my window made me jump.
Ethan stood there, knuckles resting against the glass, that same knowing glint in his eyes.
Heat flooded my cheeks. Was he here to humiliate me?
I rolled the window down, my grip on the steering wheel white-knuckled.
His gaze dragged over me, slow, deliberate. "Going to the hotel, sis-in-law? I know the room. Let me escort you."
I couldn't look at him. "I'll manage."
Before I could finish, he swung into the passenger seat, grinning. "No need to be shy. Your husband's waiting. We're late."
The clock was ticking. And with people around, what choice did I have?
I nodded stiffly.
Inside the hotel, we walked side by side—close enough that the staff gave us that polite, couple smile.
Ethan said nothing. But his eyes—heavy, lingering—traced every curve of me. He made no move to correct their assumptions.
By the time we reached the dinner, I was a mess of nerves, barely tasting the food.
The moment we got home, my husband yanked me into the bedroom.
With a sloppy grin, he pushed me onto the bed, stripping us both in rushed, clumsy motions.
"Missed you, babe. It's been too long."
I forced a murmur. "Mmm. Hurry."
"Like this, huh? Miss me? Or just this?" He smirked, groping me as I lay there, motionless.
Too quick. Too small. Nothing like—
No. I'd never say it.
"Both... ah, both." I hooked my legs around him, arching to pull him deeper, chasing something he couldn't give.
Then—he stopped.
Flushed, he avoided my eyes. "Had too much to drink. Next time."
He grabbed his clothes and bolted to the shower, leaving me breathless, frustrated, staring at the door.
With a sigh, I reached into the nightstand, fingers closing around my little toy.
The second it buzzed to life, pressed between my thighs, only one face filled my mind.
Ethan's.