Iris Wilson

The mattress creaked as Blake moved closer, his lips trailing down to my neckline. I responded eagerly, making a sound of pure desire.
He paused to meet my eyes. I leaned into him, craving more.
As he drew near, lips nearly touching mine—
His phone buzzed loudly. A text from Claire: "Blakey, when are you coming back? I'm a little scared in the hospital alone. Miss you."
Instantly, his interest in me faded.
I sighed with disappointment. Claire, my husband's stepsister, interrupting us again, just as she had wedged herself between us constantly these past four years.
Only later did I discover the truth: Claire was hospitalized for a ruptured corpus luteum from intense sexual activity—with my husband Blake.
This time, I'd finally had enough. I WOULD divorce him.