Hesitation’s foreign to me. I’d snapped the incriminating photo of us, so why hadn't I left?

Inescapable longing, that's why.

It surfaced, lingered, and imprisoned me naked alongside him. 

While he slept, I trembled and dripped, replaying his tongue spoiling my intimate flesh.

Unlike the others, he’d breached then wriggled underneath my armor. 

By the time he’d splayed my legs and teased me with his tip, I’d forgotten who had seduced whom.

Now, I lay toying with his wedding band, contemplating how easily it'd slip over the knuckle.

So, I deleted the photo.

Fuck the promotion… I wanted him instead.