I couldn’t stay.

The second I closed the door to the guest room I knew it. My cock was still half-hard from the kitchen, throbbing every time I replayed the way her tits had brushed my chest, the way her fingers had traced the outline of me like she already owned it. I grabbed my travel bag and started shoving shit back inside. My place would be finished tomorrow. Until then I’d book a hotel. Anywhere. Just not here. Not under the same roof as her.

I yanked the zipper.

It caught.

I yanked harder. The metal teeth refused to close, jamming halfway like the bag itself had decided to...