The next morning I woke up sore in all the right and wrong places. Mark was already gone for work, leaving a note on the kitchen counter saying he had an early meeting. I stared at it for a long time, guilt twisting in my stomach. Last night with him had been intense, but my body still remembered Marcus, the way he felt buried inside me at the gym, the way I rode him desperately in the dark corner. I took a long shower, trying to wash away the evidence and the memories, but every time the water hit between my legs I felt that familiar ache.
I told myself I wouldn’t go back to the gym today. I’d take a break, focus on work, and be a good wife. But by afternoon my resolve crumbled. I needed to see Marcus. Just to talk. Just to feel that spark again. I changed into my tightest workout leggin
