Greg’s legs felt like lead as he stood up from the kitchen island. His heart was hammering against his ribs, a heavy, rhythmic thud that drowned out the sound of the morning news. He looked at Sarah. She was busy cleaning a pan, her back still turned, completely unaware that her husband was vibrating with a dangerous, forbidden need.
"I'm going to the library to find that book I mentioned," Greg mumbled. His voice was thick, like he had swallowed sand.
"Okay, honey," Sarah replied. She didn't even look up.
Greg walked down the hallway. Every step felt like a sin. The house was quiet, but the air felt charged, like a storm was about to break. He reached the library door. It was slightly ajar. He pushed it open and stepped inside.
The room smelled of old paper and expensive leather. Sunl
