As I touch myself, it's Caine's face I see, his hands I feel. I imagine the warmth of his mouth, the gentle scrape of his stubble against my skin, the weight of his body pressing down on me. With every stroke, I can almost hear the low rumble of his voice in my ear, telling me how beautiful I am, how much he wants me.
I arch my back, my soft breaths coming in short, ragged, quiet gasps as the tension coils tighter and tighter within me. My body moves of its own accord,chasing the release that's just out of reach, the sweet oblivion that I so desperately crave.
And when it finally comes, it's like a tidal wave crashing over me, powerful and unrelenting, washing away all thoughts of right and wrong, leaving nothing but the blissful sensation of my climax.
As I lay there, spent and clammy, the guilt creeps back in, wrapping its cold fingers around my heart. But for a few fleeting moments, I allowed myself to be free, to be the woman I've longed to be. And now, as sleep finally claims me, I can't help but wonder if I'll ever be able to go back to the way things were before Caine Hall walked into my life.
The morning light filters through the car windows as I navigate the familiar streets to Liam's daycare. My fingers drum nervously on the steering wheel while my mind races with thoughts of Caine—his touch, his smile, the way his eyes darkened when his hand slid under my skirt.
"Mommy, look! Big twuck!" Liam points excitedly at a construction vehicle, his voice pulling me back to reality.
"Yes, sweetie. That's a cement mixer." I force a smile, guilt washing over me. Here I am, fantasizingabout another man while my beautiful son sits in the backseat.
I catch Liam's eyes in the rearview mirror. Those innocent brown eyes that trust me completely. What kind of mother am I becoming? What kind of wife?
"No more," I whisper to myself. "Today is the last session. The very last time."
The arrangement with Caine has saved us two months’ rent—a small fortune we desperately needed. I should feel relieved, grateful even. Instead, I feel a hollow ache at the thought of never seeing him again after today.
"We can handle next month," I reassure myself, though the uncertainty of what comes after lingers like a shadow. Reeves mentioned something about a tournament with a decent cash prize. Maybe that will work out.
I pull into the daycare parking lot, my stomach knotting as I think about the line I nearly crossed. The line I'm determined not to cross today, no matter how much I want to.
I turn and shoot Liam a smile. "We're here."
"Yay," he cheers. He loves his school so much, and the thought of him having to leave it makes my stomach go hard.
"Ready for another big day at school, buddy?" I ask, unbuckling Liam from his car seat.
He nods enthusiastically. "Miss Fiona said we paint today!"
"That sounds fun!" I gather his backpack and lunch box, kneeling to straighten his little jacket. "Remember what we practiced? Your R sounds?"
"Rrrrr," he says, exaggerating the sound with adorable concentration.
"Perfect!" I hug him tightly, inhaling his sweet scent. This is what matters. This is real. Not some fantasy with a man who probably sees me as nothing more than a chess piece.
As I walk Liam to his classroom, I make a silent vow. Today, I'll say goodbye to Caine Hall. I'll thank him for the financial help, play one last game of pool, and walk away with my dignity intact.
My marriage might be complicated, my life far from perfect, but I won't be the one to destroy what we've built.
I can't.
The hall is quiet, with only a few regulars scattered around the tables. I busy myself behind the bar, wiping glasses that are already clean, arranging bottles that don't need arranging.
When Caine walks in, my heart betrays me with aflutter. He's dressed in dark jeans and a blue button-down. He moves with that same slow confidence that first caught my attention, like he has all the time in the world.
"Hey," he says, approaching the bar with a sheepish smile.
"Hey, yourself," I respond, trying to sound casual despite the heat rising to my cheeks. "Ready for our last games?"
Something flickers across his face—disappointment, maybe. "I suppose I am."
We move to the table and rack the balls. I'm hyperaware of his presence, the scent of him, the way his gaze dances over me. And of course, my body remembers his touch all too well.
"About last time," I say, breaking the silence. "We need to be clear. No touching today. No funny business."
Caine nods, his expression solemn. "I understand. And I'm sorry about what happened."
