Slept with My Fiancé's Brother

"What's it like to cheat on your fiancé with his childhood friend?"

The first time Lydia Wynn and Reign Hawke were together, he didn’t bother much with foreplay. He simply parted her legs and entered her. Both were still fully dressed, save for their bodies pressing tightly against each other from the waist down.

Lydia endured the pain rippling through her, reaching up to hook her arms around his neck, tilting her head to plant a kiss on him with a hint of sweetness. But he dodged her lips, letting her kiss fall on his throat instead. “Prof. Hawke, go easy on me—it hurts.”

Reign’s chiseled face betrayed no hint of lust. He merely reached down, unzipped her dress, and stripped it off in one swift move.

She wasn’t wearing a bra; underneath, she was bare.

His eyes flicked over her, a mocking glint in them. “Trying to seduce me, are you?”

Lydia’s face flushed a deep red. She had intended to tempt him, but hadn’t expected him to call her out so bluntly.

Halfway through, Lydia’s phone rang. She glanced at the screen, feeling a jolt of nervousness as she tried to discreetly silence the call.

But Reign noticed. He sneered, “Not picking up your fiancé’s call?”

He grabbed both her wrists, pinning them above her head, freeing one hand to answer the call. His gaze bored into her, and his movements became even more relentless.

Lydia’s whole body went rigid as she bit down on her lip, terrified of letting a single sound slip out.

On the other end of the line, the background noise was loud, punctuated by the playful laughter of a girl. It was her fiancé—Jayden Mercer’s—childhood sweetheart, who was now shamelessly saying, “Jay, stop tickling my waist! Your fiancée might get jealous if she finds out.”

Then came Jayden’s voice, indifferent and dismissive. “Lydia? She doesn’t matter.”

Cheers and jeers erupted around them, with people chanting, “Kiss, kiss…”

Lydia held back any sound, but the man above her seemed bent on making this as humiliating as possible, each thrust sending a tremor through her heart. She couldn’t hold it; she turned her face to the side, catching a glimpse of their entangled bodies in the mirror by the bed.

His tie was loosened, the top two buttons of his shirt undone, exposing the delicate line of his collarbone and neck. His gaze over her was both brazen and scrutinizing. She lay beneath him like prey laid out on a slab.

The phone call continued, with that little bitch’s voice growing louder, as if she’d brought the phone closer. “Jay had a bit too much to drink and insists on coming over to my place tonight, so he won’t be heading to yours.”

Someone chimed in, “Jayden going over to your place just to sleep? You’re really not going to do anything else?”

The girl gave a scornful laugh. “If Jay and I were really something, do you think Lydia would even stand a chance?”

Lydia felt Reign’s relentless grind, every movement tightening around her, drawing out soft gasps that threatened to escape.

“Nothing to say?” His voice was icy, biting against her neck just as his teeth did, leaving a shiver in their wake.

She couldn’t hold back—a delicate, breathy “Mm” slipped out, so sweet and alluring it was enough to melt the toughest resolve.

The voice on the other end of the line abruptly cut off—it seemed the call had ended.

Reign looked down at her, his gaze cool and detached, taking in the flush that had spread across her cheeks. She looked wickedly tempting, like a seductress caught in the act.

After a long moment, he let out a low, mocking scoff. “Such a tease,” he murmured, voice dripping with cool disdain. His grip tightened around her waist as he shifted, positioning her above him. “Go on—move yourself.”

A hint of uncertainty flashed across Lydia’s flushed face.

He glanced at her coolly, his voice as detached as ever. “Can’t handle it?”

Lydia nodded, her expression tinged with embarrassment.

He let out a couple of low, emotionless chuckles, then gripped her waist tighter and resumed, unrelenting, until he was done.

As he finished, Lydia’s mind drifted, dazed. For someone who always seemed so distant, almost untouchable, Reign was surprisingly uninhibited here, his skillful, relentless pace leaving her completely drained.

Collapsed on the bed, all she wanted was sleep. But Reign had already dressed, buttoning his collar with precise, cold composure, a stark contrast to the fiery intensity he’d shown just moments ago.

He tossed her clothes toward her. “Leave.”

“Can’t I stay?” Lydia asked, voice soft and pleading, her flushed face still carrying a hint of warmth. She lay there lazily, unwilling to move.

“Not used to it,” he replied, turning to open the window, clearly unwilling to let her scent linger in the room.

Slowly, Lydia gathered her clothes. She’d chosen this bold, backless red dress tonight, the one that showed off her slender waist and elegant shoulder blades—a “battle dress” she’d selected carefully. Now, though, it seemed more than a little ridiculous.

After a pause, she spoke, her voice low and slightly hoarse, sounding almost pitiful. “Prof. Hawke, I… I don’t have any other options. Can’t you—”

He cut her off coldly. “Whoever you’re trying to provoke, it has nothing to do with me. For the sake of my relationship with your fiancé, I’ll pretend this never happened.”

He shot a look at the bottle of wine she’d brought, the one she’d intended to use as a prop for their evening together. “Take all your things. I don’t like anything that cheap.”

Lydia didn’t miss the sting in his words. She forced a faint smile, said nothing, and grabbed the wine as she left.

In his eyes, it wasn’t just the wine that was cheap—it was her, too.

…

The next morning, Lydia woke up feeling sore all over, every inch of her body a reminder of last night.

Last night, Reign had been relentless, flipping her over and over until she was breathless. It was her first time, and with no experience, she hadn’t realized just how sore she would be afterward. During their passionate encounter, she had let him take control, lost in the moment and unaware of the consequences. But now, after a night’s sleep, every part of her ached—his playful torment had left her feeling deliciously spent.

But today, Lydia had to head to Marineton University to discuss a promotional video shoot. She struggled a bit, then bit down on her lip and slipped into her high heels.

As she parked on campus, a call came through from her mother, Vera Wynn, asking if she'd made any progress with the specialty medication. Last week, her father had undergone chemotherapy, and his recovery had been challenging. The doctors had recommended a new drug—Pruetol—that was rumored to have remarkable results. But it was almost impossible to get.

The patent for Pruetol was, of course, in Reign's hands.

Lydia pressed her fingers to her temples, speaking gently to reassure her mother. “Don’t worry, I’ve made some progress. I’ll get it to you in a couple of days.”

“Your father’s blood oxygen is low again; he just had to be rushed for emergency care.” Her mother’s voice broke. “Lydi, please, push your friend to hurry—no matter the cost, we’ll pay.”

Glancing at her reflection in the rearview mirror, Lydia saw the faint traces left on her skin from last night. She swallowed her rising anxiety. “I understand, Mom. I’ll do my best.”

But during the few minutes she spent on the call, the parking spot she’d been eyeing was snatched. Annoyed, she stepped out of her car, ready to confront the driver—only to see the window roll down, revealing none other than Reign’s distant, cool gaze.

Lydia quickly plastered on a sweet smile. “Prof. Hawke, what a coincidence.”

Reign’s gaze lifted to meet hers briefly, his tone indifferent. “Do you need something?”

“My parking skills aren’t great… could you help me with it, Prof. Hawke?”

There was a practiced sweetness in her tone whenever she was asking for a favor, and somehow, with her bold, striking looks, it didn’t come off as insincere. Instead, it was uniquely charming.

A playful smile danced across her lips as she leaned closer, her voice a soft, sultry whisper. “I’m a bit sore today, can’t seem to muster any strength.”

The innuendo hung in the air, her intent unmistakable; she was hoping he’d remember the intimacy they’d shared last night and show her a little mercy.

With her arms resting on the car door, she leaned in, her neckline falling open just enough to hint at the faint “hickey” he had left behind.

Reign cast a quick, dismissive glance at her before looking away. "It’s inconvenient," he replied coolly, already reaching to close the window.

Lydia quickly slipped her hand in to stop him, her voice taking on a soft, flirtatious tone. "Prof. Hawke, what could possibly be inconvenient about helping me?”