Addicted To My Father's Best Friend

Addicted To My Father's Best Friend

Chapters: 133
Updated: 01 Feb 2025
Author: Miranda West
4.7

Synopsis

Chloe harbors a forbidden obsession with her father's best friend, the handsome billionaire Bryan. When her dark desires are exposed by Bryan's unhinged ex-girlfriend Eve, it shatters everything. Consumed by shame yet drawn to Eve's sadistic grip, Chloe spirals down a dangerous path with no return - unless she's willing to risk it all.

Billionaire Romance Age Gap First Love Forbidden Love Unexpected Romance

Addicted To My Father's Best Friend Free Chapters

1 | Addicted To My Father's Best Friend

I can't tear my eyes away from Bryan as he moves gracefully around the living room, straightening up after the movers have left. The man is absolute perfection - tall, muscular yet lean, with a striking jawline and deep emerald eyes that gleam with wisdom beyond his years. Just watching the way his navy blue shirt stretches taut across his broad shoulders is enough to make my heart flutter madly.

Get a grip, Chloe, I chastise myself for the millionth time. He's your father's best friend - the man who has been a protective uncle figure to you since you were little. Nursing this insane attraction is nothing but a recipe for heartbreak and disaster.

And yet, ever since hitting puberty, Bryan has starred in my most toe-curling fantasies and dreams. Our forbidden emotional tango has raged on for years, at least in my overactive imagination. I'm 24 now, nowhere near the love-struck teenager crushing hard on her dad's best friend, but the flames still lick at me every time I'm near him.

"Everything okay over there?" Bryan's smooth baritone voice cuts through my frazzled thoughts. Our eyes lock and I feel a jolt of electric heat course through me. "You've been awfully quiet since the move."

I swallow hard, trying to regain my composure. "Y-yeah, I'm fine. Just...still getting used to the idea of actually living here is all."

He gives me that lopsided grin that has fueled countless adolescent fantasies. "Well, I promise I'll do whatever I can to make you feel at home, Chloe. You're the daughter I never had, after all."

Those last words lance through my heart like a white-hot dagger. Daughter. Right. The harsh truth is that Bryan clearly sees me as nothing more than an unofficial kid Sister or distant relative. My illicit yearnings for anything more will never be requited.

Isn't that for the best? A small voice in my head asks. Do you really want to go down that road of trying to pursue something so guaranteed to implode?

Despite my constant self-lecturing, being this close to Bryan every day is like dangling a juicy steak in front of a starving woman. His exquisite face, that aura of raw masculinity and confidence, the way his shirt subtly stretches against those sculpted abdominal muscles...

"Earth to Chloe?" Bryan's voice pulls me back to reality again. Shit, how long have I been blatantly drinking him in? "I asked if you wanted to go over a few apartment guidelines, just to get us started."

"Guidelines? Oh, uh sure. Whatever you think is best, Bry—Mr. Westbrook." I silently curse myself for almost calling him by the overly familiar nickname.

His dark brows furrow slightly in that way that makes my knees go a bit weak. "You know you can just call me Bryan, kiddo. No need for formalities, we're going to be roomies for a while."

Roomies. As if this situation couldn't become any more torturous. I nod weakly, trying not to envision all the scenarios of us constantly crossing paths, him coming home late from work still dressed in an impeccable suit, me strutting around in skimpy pajamas after a hot shower...

Get your mind out of the gutter, you depraved fool! My subconscious screams at me. He's going to see you as nothing more than a surrogate kid at best. At worst, he'll realize your sick obsession and toss you out in disgust.

"First thing - I like keeping the kitchen spotless," Bryan says in an authoritative yet caring tone. "So if you do any cooking, just be sure to clean up after. My housekeeper Migena only comes once a week."

I nod as he goes on to discuss other housekeeping things like quiet hours, guest policies, etc. All the while, my attention can't help but be divided between hanging on his every word, and being tormented by the sinewy stretch of his polo shirt across his chest.

He finally finishes his apartment orientation speech. "And that about covers the basics. Any other questions?"

A thousand run through my mind. Like, how did you get to be so insanely sexy? Does it drive you nuts having your best friend's daughter harbor this forbidden crush? If I jumped you right now, what are the chances you'd shove me away in horror?

Instead, I merely shake my head. "No, think I'm all set. Thanks for...accommodating me here." You beautiful, tantalizing, maddening man.

A few hours later, after stashing my things in the lavish bedroom suite Bryan has made up for me, I'm lounging on the couch in the living room. He's sitting across from me, sipping a beer and flipping through investment reports with those intense eyes of his. Every few minutes, he glances up at me in that protective fatherly way that fills me with both warmth...and aching frustration.

Does he have any clue the unspeakable thoughts I've harbored about him for so long? The countless long nights I've lain awake, imagining being tangled in his arms with his chiseled body pressed against mine? The torrent of guilt that comes afterward, for betraying my family and upbringing with such unnatural yearnings?

I seriously contemplate telling him everything right then and there, the prospect of unloading this heavy burden becoming too much. But the old fears kick in hard. Fear of his anger and horror...of shattering the friendship between him and my parents...of being rejected, humiliated, and kicked to the curb in shame.

Later that night, after a fitful slumber full of tormenting dreams about Bryan and me in a tangled, passionate embrace, I awake in a sweat-soaked tee shirt with a dull throbbing between my thighs. I glance at the clock - 3:45 am, still plenty of night left to relive the agonizing fantasy.

I slip out of bed, unable to shake the alluring images swirling in my mind's eye. I pad out into the living room, expecting to find it empty as Bryan no doubt sleeps soundly in his bedroom.

Instead, I freeze in my tracks at the sight of a shirtless Bryan standing by the rain-pelted windows, the tight muscles of his abs and pecs bathed in pale moonlight. His tousled hair and seemingly tortured gaze hint at some silent anguish he bears alone this late at night.

Without thinking, I utter a soft gasp of surprise. Bryan immediately whirls around, shocked at my presence invading this private, vulnerable moment of his. "Chloe? What are you doing up?"

My voice sticks in my throat as I'm utterly transfixed by his godlike physique glistening in the dim light. Every sensation in my body screams at me to rush over and run my trembling fingers across his exquisitely chiseled bare chest and abs, to press myself against him, to ravage his lips in a soul-devouring kiss.

Instead, I mumble at last, "I...had a bad dream. Didn't mean to intrude."

For a long moment, an impossibly thick sexual tension hangs in the air between us. Bryan's penetrating gaze seems to linger on me almost hungrily before averting his eyes.

"It's fine...don't worry about it," he responds gruffly before quickly exiting, leaving me awash in confusion, fear, and unbridled longing.

2 | Addicted To My Father's Best Friend

I'm frozen in place, my heart thundering in my ears as the aftermath of that ridiculously charged moment hangs heavy around me. Did I imagine the unmistakable look of...desire?...that flashed across Bryan's face as he took in my skimpy sleep shirt and bare legs? Or was that just the twisted projections of my own overwrought imagination?

Suddenly, having all those nubile daydreams about Bryan seems almost innocent compared to what just transpired between us. An undeniable spark of intense, forbidden attraction crackled in the air - no matter how brief or one-sided it may have been. My deepest secret is no longer just some harmless crush. The man I've obsessed over for years clearly felt...something.

A flush of panic and shame washes over me as I hastily retreat to my bedroom, as if putting space between us could undo that searing look he gave me. What has Bryan seen in my eyes? The wanton, naked need of a woman craving a man she can never, ever have? I pull the covers up over my head, desperate to hide.

Sleep evades me for the rest of that torturous night. My mind races, replaying every agonizing detail of that encounter over and over. The lust that flickered across Bryan's perfect features. The way his bare skin seemed to glow ethereally in the moonlight. The tantalizing hint of chiseled abdominal muscles left maddeningly uncovered above the waistband of his pajama pants...

By morning I've worked myself into a frenzied state, dreading the inevitable awkwardness of facing Bryan again after such an intensely charged incident. Do I bring it up and clear the air? Pretend it never happened? Pack my things and get the hell out before I do something insane...like throw myself at him shamelessly?

I can't avoid him indefinitely though. Not when we're supposed to be sharing his apartment indefinitely, maddeningly close quarters. Sure enough, around 10 am, I finally emerge from my bedroom to find Bryan in the living room, fully dressed and looking as unruffled and immaculate as ever. He glances up from his laptop, a look of mild concern flashing across those obscenely chiseled features.

"Hey, you sleep okay?" he asks with an infuriatingly casual tone. As if we HADN'T just had a moment of undeniable, electric tension the night before. "I thought I heard you up pretty late."

My face flushes scarlet as my mind races. Does he suspect my agonizing insomnia was due to being hopelessly consumed with thoughts of him? Imagining peeling those clothes off his perfect body? I swallow hard, trying to regain my composure.

"Y-yeah, sorry...I just had some trouble falling back asleep is all," I stammer out, unable to meet his piercing gaze. Stay cool, Chloe! My inner voice screams at me in panic. Don't let on to your demented obsession with this man!

Bryan gives a slight nod, clearly seeing my discomfort but mercifully not prying further. "No worries, it happens. Anyway, did you want to go over getting set up with a key to the place? And maybe discuss any other household management things?"

The mere thought of something as domestically intimate as having my own key to HIS home, his private sanctuary, is enough to rekindle the simmering flames rising up inside me again. I imagine letting myself in unannounced, striding in confidently while he's working and taking him by surprise as I slowly strip away each...

"Chloe?" Bryan's questioning voice snaps me out of my daydream tailspin. Shit, how long was I standing there fantasizing like a deranged pervert? "You still with me?"

"Huh? Oh, y-yes! Keys would be great. And maybe run through those household management things again." I try to sound nonchalant while a torrent of panic surges through me. Don't let him see the depravity in your thoughts, Chloe! This man deserves better than your sick fixation.

We spend the next thirty minutes going over "house rules" and boring domestic logistics, but the entire time I can't concentrate on a single word Bryan is saying. All I can focus on is the tantalizing hint of toned chest stretching against the fabric of his crisp dress shirt, the musky masculine scent of his cologne clouding my senses, and the memory of his bare skin glowing in the moonlight...

Not helping, Chloe! I admonish myself furiously, trying to shove those lush images out of my mind. That moment last night was a fluke, an insane blip of heightened tension that cannot - WILL NOT - repeat itself. I owe it to my family, to my closest friend, to at least attempt to repress these smoldering emotions once and for all.

Except the universe seems determined to mock my noble intentions at every turn. Because the next night - after a grueling day of white-knuckling my way through forced chit-chat with Bryan while desperately waging an internal war against my lurid imagination - I once again find myself sleepless in the wee hours.

My skin feels flushed and feverish from hours of desperately trying to will away the tantalizing visions of Bryan's perfect, naked form writhing in pleasure atop me. Of his strong hands exploring every curve of my trembling body as he claims me with that ravenous gleam in his eyes. Of his impossibly chiseled torso, glistening with sweat, flexing with each thrust as he...

I squeeze my eyes shut and punch the pillow with unspent anguish, praying for some kind of cosmic mercy to free me from this twisted obsession. When that fails, I finally relent and creep out of bed, tiptoeing toward the bathroom to indulge in some much-needed "self-care." Anything to dull the nagging ache of desire smoldering between my thighs.

But as I pass in front of Bryan's closed bedroom door, I strain my ears and hear the unmistakable muffled sounds of...struggle? Feminine grunts and whimpers, almost like she's being attacked or overpowered somehow. A frisson of panic lances through me as I wonder if Bryan could potentially be assaulting some poor woman who let her guard down and came back here with him.

Then my heart nearly stops at the booming sound of Bryan's own deep voice - thick with anger and desperation: "I SAID BE QUIET! Drop the fucking act, Eve, no one's buying it anymore!"

A cold chill prickles up my spine. Eve? Who the hell is Eve? A bitter ex of Bryan's, maybe one whose heart he savagely broke? A dangerously obsessed stalker who somehow followed him home? Dear god, could this unhinged woman have broken in here with nefarious intent, causing all this commotion?

The frightening possibilities careen through my mind as I remain frozen outside Bryan's door, torn between my own safety and concern for investigating the distressing noises further. Before I can decide on a course of action, the door suddenly flies open and I instinctively flatten myself against the opposite wall.

And that's when I see her - a rail-thin, dark-haired woman with wild eyes and tousled hair emerging backward from Bryan's room, with one of his strong forearms locked around her throat as he aggressively restrains her. She's struggling and kicking, but he clearly has the advantage in physical power.

"Fucking let me go!" the unhinged woman snarls in Bryan's grip, her voice dripping with venom. "Did you really think it would be this easy to cut me out after everything, you smug bastard?"

My heart clenches in horror and confusion, not understanding what fresh insanity is unfolding before my eyes. Bryan's eyes blaze with fury as he bodily half-drags, half-shoves the ranting woman out toward the living room and away from me cowering around the corner.

"Shut your goddamn mouth and listen for once in your deranged life," Bryan growls in a chilling tone I've never heard before. "It's over between us, Eve. It has been for a long time. I don't know what kind of moronic delusion you're still clinging to, but you need to-"

I tune out the rest as a new wave of terror grips me, now having the context that this unhinged woman is Bryan's ex. An ex so bitter and obsessive that she has clearly escalated things to a terrifying degree here in his home. I'm paralyzed, not knowing whether to flee to safety or scream for help as their altercation grows increasingly aggressive.