I miss you.

I miss you.
The room is quiet. Too quiet. Tracy’s steady breathing fills the air, but my mind is not here beside him. It drifts, restless, to the wrong man.

Kellan.

It shouldn’t happen, but it does. The memory of his body, sharp and unyielding, comes to me uninvited. That lean waist, broad shoulders, the way his shirt stretched across his chest as though even fabric feared restraining him. He carried himself like temptation given form, and my thoughts won’t leave him alone.

I turn on my side, away from Tracy, pressing my thighs together. The ache that stirs within me is dangerous, forbidden, yet it blooms hotter the more I resist it. My skin prickles as though the echo of Kellan’s touch lingers on me, though he has never claimed me that way. My hand betrays me, sliding slowly down my stomach, brushing over the thin fabric that covers my hips.

I close my eyes. I let the image sharpen. Kellan’s eyes—storm-dark, always watching, always burning through me as if he could strip me bare with just a glance. I imagine him standing over me, shirt discarded, that body of his glistening with sweat from a fight or from something far more sinful.

My fingers press harder against myself, feeling the heat pool there, wet and insistent. My breath hitches, the sound too loud in this fragile night. I bite my lip to stifle it, but the moan still escapes, trembling into the silence.

Kellan would not be gentle. He would take me the way storms take the sky—sudden, overwhelming, impossible to resist. I imagine his weight pressing me down, his breath hot against my neck, the low growl that always seems buried in his voice spilling out against my ear. My hips rise against my own hand as the thought consumes me.

I let myself go deeper. My hand slips beneath the fabric now, fingers finding the wetness waiting for them. I gasp softly, ashamed, yet unable to stop. My body trembles as I move, slowly at first, then faster, desperate for what only fantasy can give me. The rhythm builds, and with it, the vision of Kellan’s mouth—rough, hungry, claiming every inch of me until I can’t breathe.

I arch my back, my free hand clutching the sheets, knuckles white. The pressure coils tighter inside me, unbearable, exquisite. His voice fills my head, not Tracy’s, never Tracy’s—only Kellan’s husky command: mine.

The word shatters me.

I cry out, muffled into the pillow, as the release rips through me. My body quakes, every nerve alight, every part of me drenched in forbidden fire. I come undone with his name burning on my tongue, though I never let it pass my lips.

When it’s over, I collapse back into the bed, breathless, sweating, trembling from the violence of it. Shame follows quickly, crawling over my skin like a second layer. Tracy sleeps just inches away, his trust laid carelessly beside me, and yet I have betrayed him in the cruelest, most intimate way—inside my own body.

I curl into myself, hugging my knees. Tears sting my eyes, though I refuse to let them fall. The ghost of Kellan’s touch still lingers, seared into me. I hate it. I need it. I fear what it means.

Because if my body can burn this fiercely for a man who is not my husband, what does that say about the vows I swore, about the future I cling to?

Sleep will not come easily tonight. And even if it does, I know whose shadow will haunt my dreams.