As if loving her gently enough could finally loosen fear and guilt’s grip on me.
“Maya, come to my office.”
I release the intercom button before she can answer. Less than a minute later, there’s a knock. Three quick taps, and she steps inside.
Before she can speak, I say, “I need you to contact the heliport and confirm all the permits for Friday’s flight to Atlantic City. You’ll be coming with me.”
Her face brightens immediately.
“How many days will we be staying?” she asks, a little too eager.
“None. We leave early in the morning and return late afternoon, or as soon as the deal is signed.” I hand her a folder. “Everything you need is in here. It also has the flight details and the hotel reservation Margaret booked before her medical leave began, for my wife and me, for the event next week. I need you to double-check that everything’s in order.”
Her expression stays neutral, professional even, but I don’t miss the way her fingers tighten around the folder.
“That’s all,” I say.
She turns to leave, but pauses at the doorway, glancing back. “Will you be coming to my place tonight?”
I give a single nod.
A faint smile curves her lips before she quietly closes the door behind her.
Fresh from the shower, I start getting dressed while Maya lies sprawled across the bed, watching me. The sheet barely covers her thighs, her breasts are exposed without the slightest hint of shame. Her whole posture is languid, a silent attempt to pull my eyes back to her.
But what I can’t shake is the look on her face when I was inside her.
It wasn’t hunger. It wasn’t lust.
It was something almosttender… something that had no business being there. Even when I picked up my pace, even when I turned her over and took her from behind, stealing quick glances at the clock on the nightstand, pushing harder, faster, just trying to get it over with. That expression never left her eyes.
It followed me into the shower, clinging to me through the scalding water, burrowing under my skin in a way I couldn’t shake.
Now, tugging on my shirt, irritation prickling beneath my ribs, I finally ask, “This is still just sex for you too, right?”
She rolls her eyes, pulling the sheet up as if suddenly self-conscious, hiding what she’d been flaunting seconds before.
“Yes. You don’t need to worry about that.”
But the knot in my chest doesn’t loosen.
“I already have a wife and kids,” I say, voice flat. “I’m not looking for another relationship.”
“I know,” she snaps, getting out of bed and shrugging into her robe, tying it a little too tight around her waist. “You don’t have to keep saying it. I never forced you into this. You came here, Colin. I never showed up at your house.”
She’s not wrong.
And yet… something in her has shifted. It’s small, subtle… but I feel it. A subtle, dangerous shift beneath that polished composure.
I take a slow breath. “Fine. I just want to be very clear.”
Maya
The moment the door clicks shut, I grab the bedside lamp and hurl it against the wall. The crash is loud, satisfying, a brief relief for the pressure clawing at my ribs.
I don’t know what changed this weekend, what turned him so cold, so distant. On Saturday, everything was as it always is. He was here, in my bed, wanting me with that same raw urgency that keeps drawing him back. The fire between us burned hot, hungry, insatiable.
But by Monday he showed up different. All business. Face unreadable, voice clipped, eyes that wouldn’t linger on minefor more than a second. I kept wondering whatshehad done. Whether his wife had irritated him, disappointed him, reminded him of all the things he pretends he doesn’t miss.
