Page 2 of Unfaithfully Yours

I chuckled at the unfamiliar casual touch, knowing he was still trying to comfort me.

“I guess I fell apart a bit back there,” I mused.

“Just a little,” he agreed, smiling ruefully.

I groaned, falling back against the arm of the chair.

To my surprise the room started to spin when I went horizontal. The table was littered with bottles, and Ryan's cheeks had turned a permanent red from too much alcohol.

I covered my face with my hands, rubbing my tired eyes.

“I didn't think Melissa was the type,” Ryan suddenly said.

“She's not !” I argued, my instincts to defend her rearing up. “She's really not. I don't... I don't know what happened or what she was thinking or what...”

I trailed off.

“Fuck... Was it me?” I whispered.

I could hear the announcers raving. The game was over. Our team had lost. Insult to injury, but I was too wounded and drunk to care. It had been obvious which way it was going since halftime, anyway.

Ryan's hand was still on my leg. He squeezed it again.

“Kamran,” hesaid,and his voice was almost stern. “There's no way this was your fault.”

I was shaking my head before he even finished that sentence because it made a kind of twisted sense.

Lissa wasn't the type to cheat. She was as wholesome as they came. She was sweet and loving and open and honest. She didn't judge a soul. She didn't hurt people. I musthave done something to make her feel like I was pushing her away.

I scrubbed my hands over my face, trying to think through the booze.

Hell, we rarely had sex anymore. Maybe that was it.

We still spoke and laughed together though.

Life was just busy, that was all. We had different schedules.

She was always tired early and I didn't get up to bed fast enough. I got distracted and we missed our chances…”It’s my fault,” I said with more finality.

I was going to say more. I didn’t know what but didn't get to find out because Ryan leaned over me, practically on top of me, physically dragging my hands from my face so that I was forced to look at him and meet his annoyed gaze.

“Kamran,” he said fiercely. “If Melissa is cheating on you, it's because she's a fucking idiot . You're perfect. ”

He said it with such certainty that for a moment I actually believed it. I took a shuddering breath.

Ryan was right in my face. There was no getting away. No hiding.

Just his warm brown eyes watching me. Even through the haze of alcohol, they looked so sure. His hand on my chest was like a steadying weight.

Why did it feel like the most intimate moment I could remember having? I was married.

To a woman who was cheating .

“How could she do this to me?” I whispered.

Then, probably because I was still a pathetic mess, and only inches from his face, Ryan leaned onto me even more, letting his weight press me down.

And for some reason, his lips brushed mine, slightly parted and soft.

An electric thrill shot straight through my body.

I gasped, my eyes widening as he pulled back.

For a moment, we just looked at each other, eyelids heavy with booze and whatever else was happening. Then he was pressing forward again, crushing his lips to mine harder this time, kissing me desperately, and for some, fucked up reason that I didn’t understand, I was kissing him back.

His tongue pressed into my mouth, and I moaned. My hands tangled into his hair while his moved frantically over my body, under my shirt, hiking it up as high as he could, his palms skating over my skin.

I had no clue how the fuck we had gotten here, but Ryan felt like Christmas morning or some other sappy, warm, feel good thing, and I held on tightly, continuing to kiss him back like his mouth held all the answers.

Ryan pulled off me. His hands were shaking, but he reached down, pressing against my zipper, making me realize that I was already hard. The heat of his palm seeped through the denim and I pushed my hips up without meaning to.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “ Kamran .”

I'd heard him say my name a million times, but never like this. Never in a way that made me want to be a fucking good boy for him and the thought was so shocking that for a moment I stilled, a hint of reality filtering through my foggy brain.

Then, we both heard it; the jangling of keys in the front door.

We stared at each other, unmoving until the door creaked as it was opened and then, like two kids with our hands in the cookie jar, we scrambled apart.

I landed back in my seat, my heart pounding like a drum solo as Melissa entered the house.

“Hey guys,” she said, walking in from the entryway, and bending over the back of the couch to kiss my cheek and then ruffle Ryan’s hair. “How was the game?”

“Shit,” I managed to mumble.

“Aw, your team lost?”

“Badly,” Ryan said, jumping in for me.

My gaze flew to the screen where the after show was still playing. “Where were you?”

“Visiting my sister,” she answered with ease.

“How’s Michelle?” I asked.

“She’s good. Just the usual boy drama,” she said, and then paused for a minute, maybe watching the TV, maybe watching me.

I couldn't tell. I couldn't bring myself to look at her to see if our act was working.

Did we seem normal? I saw Ryan give me a surreptitious glance in my peripheral, but he didn't say anything.

“Alright, well, I'm going to take a shower and go to bed,” she said after a long silence. “Long day.”

I nodded.

“Night.”

“Goodnight,” Ryan said quickly.

When the sound of her footsteps disappeared up the stairs, it was like all the air left me. I deflated, sinking into the cushions.

My hands were shaking, my mind too confused to even begin to make sense of whatever the fuck had just happened.

I could still feel Ryan's hands, his lips. They’d left trails of heat all over my body.

Why had he done that? Why had I gone with it?

“You should probably head out,” I said, not looking at him.

“…Yeah. I guess so.”

He pushed to his feet, and I noticed that he swayed.

And that he was beautiful.

In a masculine way, of course, but yeah. Attractive was attractive, and Ryan was that. I'd always known it too. I hadn't wanted to kiss him before though. And yet, right now, his lips were a deeper pink than usual, full from being on me.

I pushed to my feet, feeling dazed as he looked around, found his baseball cap, and pushed his hair back into it before grabbing his jacket from where he’d thrown it over the ottoman.

He walked to the entryway, and I followed him like a lost puppy, unsure what to say.

At the door, for a long moment, we both stood there not saying anything at all.

Then it hit me.

“I'm a hypocrite.”

My quiet, barely spoken words may as well have been shouted, because Ryan flinched.

“It’s my fault,” he insisted in a whisper. “It was stupid. I'm sorry.”

I shook my head. He certainly hadn't forced anything. Unexpected as it was, I'd wanted his touch. His comfort.

“I just wanted to make you feel better,” he said, glancing in the direction Melissa had gone. “I don't know what I was fucking thinking. Please don't blame yourself.”

His hand touched my elbow and I accidentally leaned into it. God, he was like a warm blanket. I wanted to wrap him around me.

What was going on with me?

Ryan noticed and leaned slightly closer, his thumb stroking my skin.

“Let's just forget this ever happened, okay?”

I nodded, even though that seemed like a tall order.

He let out a relieved sigh, and pulled his hand back.

“I'll help you with anything you need,” he went on, his voice still barely above a whisper. “You can call me anytime for anything. You know that, right?”

I nodded.

“Why the fuck else do you think I cried like a baby in front of you?” I asked, trying to make light of it all.

He smiled warmly and for a moment, swayed toward me, like he was going to kiss me again.

My body stilled, waiting, but he didn't do it.

“Bye,” he said, and left.

I stood there, staring at the back of the closed door, my head spinning.

Upstairs, Melissa was already in bed.

When I climbed in next to her, she pretended that she was already sleeping.

I couldn't bring myself to say a word.