The knife clattered onto the cutting board.
Harrison’s vision tunneled. The air left the room.
"Emily," he warned, a low growl.
"Show me," she taunted. She lifted her foot and ran her bare toes up his calf, settling at his knee. Then she leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth.
That was it. The leash snapped.
He didn't think about Sarah. He didn't think about his vows. He lost his mind.
He grabbed Emily by the back of her neck and slammed his mouth onto hers. It wasn't a kiss; it was a collision. She tasted like strawberries and trouble.
He spun her around, shoving her against the granite island.
"You want it?" he growled against her ear. "You want to ruin everything?"
"Yes," she hissed. "Ruin me."
He didn't bother with the buttons. He grabbed the fabric of her expensive sundress at the neckline and ripped it down. Buttons popped, pinging off the floor tiles. Emily gasped, not in fear, but in delight.
He lifted her onto the cold counter, shoving her legs apart. He unzipped his pants, freeing himself, hard and aching.
"God," Emily moaned, looking down at him. "Yes. That.I need that."
He didn't wait. He didn't prep her. He grabbed her hips and drove into her in one thrust.
Emily screamed, her nails digging into his shoulders, drawing blood. "Harrison!"
He fucked her with a frenzy that frightened him. It was violent, desperate friction. He was gripping her waist so hard he knew he’d leave bruises. The sound of their skin slapping together echoed in the high-ceilinged kitchen.
"You like that?" he panted, pulling out and slamming back in. "You like sneaking around?"
"I love it," she sobbed, wrapping her legs around him, pulling him deeper. "Harder. Fuck me harder."
He pounded into her, mindless, staring into her eyes and seeing his own reflection—a monster. They were both sweating, grunting, reduced to nothing but nerve endings.
He came with a roar, emptying himself into her, his forehead pressed against hers.
They stayed like that for ten seconds, chests heaving, the silence returning to the kitchen.
Then, the sound of gravel crunching.
"Sarah," Harrison whispered, the blood draining from his face.
They scrambled. It was a panic drill. Emily jumped off the counter, gathering her torn dress. Harrison zipped his pants, fixing his belt with trembling hands.
"Go," he hissed. "Upstairs. The back stairs."
Emily ran, clutching her dress closed, disappearing just as the front door handle turned.
Harrison turned to the sink, turning on the water to wash his hands, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird.
"Hey, honey," Sarah had called out, walking into the kitchen, dropping her keys. "Traffic was a nightmare. Did you start dinner?"
Harrison had turned, smiling a fake, brittle smile. "Just starting the prep."
He kissed his wife. And he tasted Emily on his own lips.
