Treating My Husbands Pregnant Mistress
Language: en
The door to my examination room swung open just as I was looking down, organizing the morning’s patient charts. A man walked in, his arm wrapped possessively around a young woman’s waist. His voice was a low, melting murmur, the kind reserved for intimate, quiet spaces. "I know, sweetheart. Blame me. I just couldn't keep my hands off you. I promise I'll be more careful next time." At the sound of that voice, the pen in my hand froze. I looked up. It was Jonathan. My husband. The man who was supposed to be halfway across the country at an academic symposium in Chicago. He saw me in the…