Sabrina zipped up her hoodie, shielding herself from the November breeze.

When the sliding glass door opened, she looked up to see Nick standing in his flannel shirt and jeans.

He slid his hand sheepishly over his shaved head. I know, I know. You told me not to come over, but I couldn't help myself.

Sabrina pushed back the chair, the metal legs scraping against the concrete patio. He was the last person

she needed to see, yet she couldn't deny the sensation of thrill that was wrapping its way

around her ribs. Nick was her husband's best friend, and only one month earlier they had hooked up. Both of them swore

would be the last time. But now that Stephen was away on a work trip for the weekend,

it seemed like Nick had decided to re-enter the picture. Sabrina stood in front of him,

blonde hair blowing in wisps around her face.

Nick, you know we can't. But we already did. We ripped off the band-aid, so why shouldn't we

keep enjoying ourselves? When he extended his hand, Sabrina let out a long, shaky sigh as she took it and let him

guide her into the house. They hurried into the living room and began ripping into each other.

Nick pulled off her hoodie, while Sabrina got busy undoing the buttons of his shirt.

They paused every few seconds to kiss again, the room swirling with a chorus of eager moans and pants.

This is the last time, Sabrina said breathlessly, her lips pressing up against Nick's ear.

His hand slid around her bare back, keeping her close.

Of course, he whispered.

He unhooked her braw and groaned as her breasts became exposed. Nick lifted them up with both hands,

allowing his thumbs to gently stroke her nipples. He watched them tighten with arousal,

and then his gaze wandered to Sabrina's face, where her blue eyes were wide.

Whether with desire or guilt, Nick couldn't tell.

Nick led Sabrina to the big leather sofa and laid her on her back.

...