Saved by the bell

Ben pulled back just enough to yank his t-shirt over his head, discarding it onto the floor. Emma’s breath caught. He wasn't the polished, gym-sculpted type, but he was bulky and raw, radiating a heavy, lived-in heat that made her insides clench with a flutter.

Without a word, she reached up and pulled her own pyjama top over her head, peeling it back to expose her pale skin to the cool air of the living room, and to his wanton stare. He didn't waste a second. His large, rough hands moved immediately to her chest, cupping her breasts with a blunt, kneading pressure that bordered on painful. He squeezed, his thumbs grazing her nipples, and she let out a sharp, gasping moan, arching her back against the couch cushions.

It was so different from Tom. When Tom touched her, it was careful, tentative, almost like he was afraid he might break her. This felt like being claimed. Ben was molding her, taking what he wanted without asking for permission, and the humiliation of it only made her more aroused. She could feel his hardness pressing urgently through the fabric of his boxers, a solid, throbbing weight digging into her stomach. He was straining against the restriction, every bit as desperate as she was.

Just as she reached out to pull his waistband down, a sharp, rhythmic pounding thundered against the front door.

The spell shattered instantly. Ben hissed, a string of profanities tearing from his throat. He jerked away, his eyes wild with frustration, scrambling off her to grab his shirt from the floor. He shoved it back on, his face twisted in annoyance as he glared at the door, then back at Emma.

"I'll be back, I think it's my Amazon parcel" he explained.

Emma sat frozen on the couch, her skin flushed and tingling from where he’d been gripping her. Her heart was hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She was sitting in the wreckage of their near-encounter, half-naked in the shared living room. The reality of the situation crashed down on her, the door was only a few feet away, the hallway was visible, and if Ben took too long, or if the delivery person was chatty, or if Tom decided to wake up early and wander out for water...

Panic, cold and sharp, cut through the haze of her lust. She couldn't be here when Ben came back. She couldn't face him right now, not with her head spinning like this.

With shaking hands, she scrambled to put her top back on, her movements frantic. She glanced toward the bedroom door. Tom was still in there, tucked away in his cocoon of ignorance, oblivious to the fact that his girlfriend had just been inches away from cheating on him right in the living room.

She stood up, her legs feeling unsteady, and hurried across the carpet toward his bedroom. She had to get back to the bed, back to the safety of Tom, and pretend like this madness hadn't just happened. As she reached the door and slipped inside, her mind raced, already trying to figure out how to hide the flush on her skin and the guilt written all over her face before he woke up.