Soft moans, whines and gasps fill the air as Olivia — the girl I met at a bar last night — lies bare beneath me in our bed. I think her name is Olivia, anyway. Her nails rake across my back, my fingers working her core. My vision is hazy from how drunk I am, eyes half-lidded with desire. She’s hot, confident and a fucking temptress.

But she’s not you.

Deep down, I know it’s wrong, but the lust and desire coursing through my veins are clouding my judgement. I can’t wait any longer; the need for Olivia is overwhelming and my boxers are far too tight. I pull my fingers away from her core, immediately noticing the slickness glistening on my fingers, which causes a low groan to escape my throat. I shove my boxers down with a sense of urgency, and toss them on the floor. Positioning myself back between her legs, I reach for her wrists and pin them above her head.

“This okay?” I ask, slightly slurred from the alcohol. I press my lips against her neck, leaving small hickeys in my wake.

“Y-yeah it’s okay, m’ready,” she breathes out, sweat beading across her forehead. I can see the desire in her eyes, mirroring mine.

As soon as the words roll off her tongue, I push into her, both of us letting out a soft moan. I rock my hips slowly, letting her adjust to me.

But then—

The bedroom door opens with a soft click. My heart plummets. I immediately pull out of Olivia, scrambling back as panic surges through me.

“Babe, I’m back early!” your voice rings out — light, excited, completely unaware. You’re looking over your shoulder, dragging your suitcase into the bedroom. And then you look up. Your smile drops. The colour drains from your face. Your lips part, but no sound comes out at first.

My stomach twists, a sick churn of guilt and vodka.

“No… no—what the fuck?” you breathe, voice cracking. The betrayal and disbelief etched across your features makes me want to scream and punch a hole through the wall. Fuck.

“Wait—shit, I—” I stand there frozen, naked, shaking, alcohol still coursing through me as I try to think of what to say. Olivia sits up quickly, dragging the sheet over her chest, eyes wide.

You’ve just come back from your girls’ holiday early — the same holiday I’ve been paranoid about the whole time you were there. The irrational part of my brain told me you’d get drunk with your friends and end up fucking some guys. I thought you’d cheat. Tonight I went to a bar and had far too many pints, trying to forget about you being away.

I ended up cheating on you. In our house. In our bed.