Hot daddy's best friend
"You shouldn't be here, Fiona," his deep voice rasped against her ear, his hand still pressed against the wall behind her.
"Then tell me to leave," she whispered, her lips trembling inches from his. He didn't move. He didn't breathe. And in that moment, she knew he wanted her just as much as she wanted him.
Fiona Harry has lived her whole life in a golden cage of wealth, reputation, and suffocating rules. University was supposed to be her escape, her first taste of freedom. But nothing could prepare her for the moment she came face-to-face with Professor Jalen Hart, her father's best friend. One reckless night changes everything. A drunken mistake turns into an irresistible obsession, pulling her deeper into Jalen's forbidden world. But secrets don't stay hidden forever. Between Jude, her possessive friend who knows too much, Marian, Jalen's wicked wife, and the dangerous power of desire, Fiona is about to risk not only hers and her family's reputation but her entire future.
And what happens when the truth comes out especially to Marian?
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Chapter 3
Fiona's POV
The surge of being outside for the first time-completely alone hit me hard. My body shivered at the thought of doing things without my parents' control. It felt strange, almost unreal, yet thrilling. For the first time in my life, I could breathe. I could be whoever I wanted to be.
Students in perfectly tailored uniforms moved around the campus, chatting and laughing. A lump formed in my throat as I took in the sight. My mind drifted back to Jalen. The thought of seeing him again sent a tingling shiver down my thigh. I couldn't get him out of my head since the last encounter.
I lifted my head, gathering what courage I had left, and took a step forward. Just as I reached the entrance, someone crashed into me so hard I almost fell.
"Ouch!" I winced. "Watch where you're going, clumsy!" I snapped, rubbing my arm as the stranger helped me up.
"Chill, girl," he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. "It was just a bump. Besides, you're gonna get a lot of those here." He paused, squinting at me. Then his eyes widened. "Wait... you're Fiona-the new student, right?"
My brow arched. How did he know that?
"How do you even know my name?" I asked.
He grinned, rubbing the back of his neck. "Let's just say I have my ways. Around here, they call me the King of Information."
I looked him over from head to toe. His watch screamed wealth, but his easy manner told another story-someone confident, maybe a little too sure of himself. He had that "wealthy-nerd-who's-not-really-a-nerd" look. And judging from the way passing girls grinned and waved at him, he was clearly one of the popular boys.
"You must be quite popular," I said flatly.
He smirked. "I'm Jude, by the way. Let me show you around." He gestured for me to follow. "Do you already know your roommate?"
"I have the documents," I replied, holding up a folder, "but I haven't figured it out yet."
"Right, hand it over." He extended his hand, then added teasingly, "Oh, and that name you called me earlier-'clumsy'? Don't use it again."
I rolled my eyes, handing him the paper. "Well, that was my first impression of you, and that's what I'll call you from now on-Clumsy."
"Whatever," he muttered.
He glanced at the document and tossed it back to me. "I know your room-and your roommate. Her name's Kelly. She's not exactly friendly, so I'd suggest you stay out of her way."
The walk through the hallway was mesmerizing. My eyes kept drifting to the paintings on the walls and the carved sculptures that lined the corridors. It felt like walking through an ancient gallery-beautiful, mysterious, and timeless.
When we reached my room, I noticed the number matched my document. The door stood tall and intimidating, carved from aged oak that seemed to have survived centuries. An iron band, darkened with rust and time, crossed its surface like battle scars.
"What a heavy door for such a tiny room," I whispered under my breath. "Is this a prison?"
"What?" Jude snapped, frowning slightly.
"Oh, nothing," I said quickly.
"This is your room," he said, stepping back. "I have to go now. I'm not supposed to hang around here for too long. Guess I'll see you around?" He winked before turning away.
"Oh, wait," I blurted, my voice shaky. "Um... do you happen to know where his office is?"
"Who?" he asked, looking confused.
"Never mind," I said quickly, my cheeks burning as flashes of our last encounter filled my mind.
"Alright then," he said, walking off.
I closed the door behind me, relieved to find the room empty. The idea of sharing a space with a total stranger made my stomach twist, but for now, I was safe.
I placed my bag on the bed and started unpacking. The room had a rustic charm-everything was made of heavy wood and cold iron. It was nothing like my soft, elegant room at home.
Still, as I tried to settle in, my thoughts wouldn't stop wandering to Jalen. The memory of his voice, his gaze, his nearness-it made my entire body tingle again.
Night fell quickly. I lay in bed, clutching my vanilla-scented pillow to my chest, staring blankly at the ceiling that seemed miles above me. I had sighed so many times that I lost count.
Then, my phone vibrated beneath the pillow, making me jump. My heart raced-I knew who it was. Only one person ever called me this late.
"Hi, Dad," I whispered, exhaling softly.
His voice came through the line faint and crackly. Great, I thought. The school isn't just boring-it barely has network coverage.
"Dad, I can't hear you. Please leave a message," I muttered, then set my phone aside.
Before I could relax, the door flung open. I startled, turning quickly.
A fair, chubby girl stepped in, her movements so firm and confident that the heavy oak door looked light in her hands. My lips parted in surprise.
"Hi," I managed, my voice shaky.
"Who are you, and what are you doing in my room?" she snapped, eyes narrowing.
"You're Kelly, right? I'm your new roommate. I resumed today," I explained carefully.
"Interesting." Her tone dripped with sarcasm. "Just so you know-stay in your lane, and I'll stay in mine."
I nodded quickly. "Of course."
Without another word, she grabbed something from her bed and stormed out again, leaving a heavy silence behind. I exhaled deeply, relief flooding my chest. Jude was right, I thought. She's definitely not the friendly type.
Hours later, darkness had completely swallowed the room. I lay quietly, eyes half-shut, when a soft knock echoed at the door. Curious, I got up and walked toward it hoping it was clumsy Jude again.
When I opened it-my eyes widened as Jalen stood there.
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8.6
"What do you think people would say if they found out you don't have a dick?" Christian asked, his voice low and dripping with seduction. His hand pressed firmly against my crotch, fingers exploring the flat, unfamiliar emptiness there. A devilish smirk curved his lips. "Or if they discovered these voluptuous breasts you've been hiding so well?"
A strangled moan slipped from my throat as his hand slid under my shirt, his fingers brushing over my hardened nipples, teasing them with slow, deliberate strokes.
"Which do you think they'd call you?" he murmured, eyes gleaming. "A boy with tits... or a dickless little fraud?"
I stared into his hungry blue eyes, words failing me.
"The term you're looking for is 'girl,'" came Xavier's smooth voice from the bathroom doorway. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a soft click, his gaze raking over me with open interest. "So tell me, little girl... what the hell is someone like you doing in an all-boys dorm?"
Christian's smirk widened. "She wants to be devoured by boys like us." His fingers gave my nipple one last firm pinch before he leaned in closer, breath hot against my ear. "And I'll be more than happy to give her a taste."
9.2
She loved him until she lost herself.
Now, behind locked doors and shattered glass, she must learn to breathe again.
When she first met Lloyd, he was magnetic and intoxicating. The kind of man who turned every head when he entered a room, who spoke in promises sweet enough to taste. With him, she felt chosen, cherished, and safe.
But safety was an illusion, and love became a weapon.
And slowly, piece by piece, he dismantled her until nothing of the woman she once was remained.
Now institutionalized after a breakdown, she begins to piece together the brutal truth of what really happened in the shadows of their love story. Memories sting like open wounds: the manipulation disguised as tenderness, the apologies that blurred into threats, the desperate hope that tomorrow he'd be the man she fell for again.
Yet beneath the grief and the shame, a quiet rebellion stirs, a vow to reclaim her voice, her freedom, and her life. Because this is not just a story of how she fell apart. It is a story of how she rises.
Haunting, raw, and achingly intimate, Boys like him peels back the glittering mask of a toxic love affair to reveal the kind of darkness that hides in plain sight, and the unbreakable strength it takes to escape it.
7.9
After her twin brother's unexplained death at Alpha Academy, Alexandria Hyde takes his place and his name to uncover the truth. Now living as "Alex," she's thrown into a world of hot, testosterone-fueled Alphas who fight to the brink of death... and she has to survive it while hiding who she really is.
But staying hidden isn't easy–
Not when the Alphas start noticing her.
Not when the truth she's chasing might destroy her first.
And definitely not when they start fighting for her instead.
9.2
Clara was drowning in student debt and barely making rent when she downloaded a fantasy mobile game to escape reality.
Inside the game, an exiled prince named Alex was freezing to death. Pitying him, she spent her last few dollars on microtransactions to fix his shelter and cure his poison.
But the game was far too real.
Every time she paid, the prince reacted. When she complained aloud about going broke, the in-game army suddenly halted, as if the prince had heard her voice.
Then, the terrifying real-world consequences hit.
Clara woke up to find her water glass and a box of Kleenex had vanished from her locked bedroom overnight.
She frantically searched the tiny apartment, her heart pounding in her chest.
She thought she was losing her mind. Had she thrown them out in her sleep? Was there a stalker hiding in her home?
How could physical objects just disappear into thin air behind a deadbolted door?
Until she looked at her nightstand.
Sitting exactly where her missing items used to be was a glowing, weightless crystal cup that defied all logic.
And on her laptop screen, the exiled prince was carefully holding her Kleenex box, offering a mountain of real gold on an altar.
She hadn't just downloaded a mobile game; she had opened a cross-dimensional trade route with a desperate future king.
7.8
My abusive ex was threatening a lawsuit that would destroy my father's career and wipe out my PhD. I was completely out of options.
That night, Graham, the boy from next door I hadn't seen in a decade, showed up at my apartment in the middle of a hurricane. Now a wealthy orthopedic surgeon, he offered a transactional marriage: he needed a local wife to keep his family away while he cared for his sick mother, and in return, he would make my ex disappear.
I thought it was a simple deal. But the morning after we signed the marriage license, Graham didn't just scare my ex off—he ruthlessly dismantled him. Then, Graham turned to me. His eyes were dead as he pulled out his phone, showing me a high-resolution photo of the night I illegally sold lab samples to pay off my ex's initial blackmail. He had hired a private investigator to stalk me. If that photo leaked to the FDA, I wouldn't just lose my degree; I'd go to prison.
"I needed a guarantee," he said flatly.
I was shaking with rage and terror. This wasn't a rescue. It was a hostage situation. Why did he hunt me down? Why use my darkest secret to trap me in this twisted marriage?
I couldn't live like this. I demanded an immediate divorce. But at the courthouse, the clerk dropped a bomb on us: state law required a mandatory thirty-day waiting period. Thirty days trapped with a ruthless, manipulative stranger. I had to find a way to break his leverage before the month was up.
7.2
Allie Patterson poured fifteen years into her husband Grayson’s tech startup, living in a cramped San Jose apartment. Every penny, every late night coding session, was for their shared future, built on his constant claims the company struggled, always on the verge of its big break.
Then, a grant deed arrived: a stunning $4.2 million Atherton villa, paid in full, listing Grayson and an unknown Kacey Schmidt as joint tenants.
Her coffee mug shattered as Allie’s world imploded. Driving to the mansion, she found Kacey in silk pajamas, flaunting a massive pink diamond and, beneath it, Grayson’s grandmother’s heirloom ring – the one he’d tearfully claimed to have lost years ago.
Kacey purred, "He's in the shower. We were so tired last night."
The words were a serrated knife, twisting, confirming years of lies.
Humiliation and rage burned out, leaving a terrifying, absolute silence. All her sacrifice and trust were a cruel, elaborate joke, orchestrated by the man she loved.
Allie calmly took photos, then gave herself one minute in her beat-up car to mourn. When it passed, her tears stopped, replaced by cold, calculated murder in her eyes. She typed a text to Grayson:
"Come home early tonight. I have a surprise for you."