Reasoned away

She lay back on the mattress, her breath hitching as the final tremors of the orgasm faded. A small wave of guilt sat in her chest. She had just used the image of her ex to get herself off, and the reality of that realization stung. It felt like a betrayal of Tom.

She wiped herself clean, forcing the shame aside. *It was the ****,* she reasoned, her mind grasping for an easy excuse. *The drinks made me loose, made my thoughts drift where they shouldn't. It doesn't mean anything real.*

She picked up her phone and tapped out a quick text to Tom: *Tired. Heading to sleep now. Talk tomorrow xxx* She didn't wait for a reply, tossing the phone onto the nightstand and closing her eyes until she drifted into a deep sleep.

The next morning, the guilt had faded into a dull, manageable hum. She showered, dressed, and went down to the hotel restaurant for breakfast. The place was bustling, but she managed to snag a quiet corner table.

She was halfway through a pastry and a black coffee when a shadow fell across her table. She looked up to see Liam standing there. He looked sharp, even in casual clothes, his shoulders broad and his eyes focused.

"Mind if I join you Emma?" he asked, not really waiting for an answer before sliding into the chair opposite her.

She felt a flush rise in her cheeks, her pulse quickening as the memory of the previous night, and her own hand between her legs, flashed through her mind. She gripped her coffee cup, forcing a neutral expression onto her face. "Sure," she said.

He signaled a waiter for a refill for himself and then leaned forward, resting his tatooed forearms on the table. He looked at her. "So," he said, his voice low, "how did you sleep?"