I slept in his bed.
Morning came without Grant in it. Trent was already awake, thumb on his phone, the marks on my chest darkening into something a blouse would have to argue with. He looked at me like the deal had survived the night.
“Kitchen,” he said. “Coffee. No robe.”
I went naked down the hall of my husband’s house. The tile was cold. The family photo on the fridge watched me fill the kettle. Trent came in behind me in shorts and put his mouth on the bite on my neck while the water heated. His hand slid between my thighs from behind and found me wet, still sloppy from last night.
“That’s how you make coffee now,” he muttered against my skin. “Dripping in his kitchen.”
He turned me to the counter. He went to his knees on the floor where I had stood for two months pretending I onl
