You tried to blink away the tears as Simon’s calloused hand stroked your hair. You were still panting slightly, legs trembling.

He’s not yours, he’s not yours, he’s not yours, you repeat to yourself in your head, hoping it would help you get over it.

“I love you… I wish you were mine,” you murmur, voice on the edge of a sob.

“I’ll never be yours. I love my wife,” he mumbles in response. You feel your heart break a little more with each word that falls from his sinfully perfect lips.