The Betrayed Affair: Loving my Husband's Brother

~Two years ago~ ~Sophia’s POV~ In the hushed stillness of the hotel room, I slowly woke, my senses sharpening to the disarray of scattered clothes. Memories from the night before flickered in my mind as I blinked my eyes open, hesitant to confront the echoes of those stolen hours. What had I done? I wanted to feel regret, but I felt none. A single smile was all it took for me to break my number one rule and sleep with a complete stranger. I turned to the empty space on the bed, the smell of dark chocolate and cinnamon still blending into the sheets. My mind was too occupied with the thought of his hands running down my body, his long fingers touching me in places no man ever had, to notice where he had brought me. The hotel room—no, suite—screamed money. Snapping back to reality, I got out of bed. Wherever he had gone, he wouldn’t stay away forever; I needed to get my s**t together and my ass out of there. Ignoring the trembling in my bones and the ache between my legs, I tiptoed around the room, picking up my clothes from the floor. I found all my belongings except one. Deciding I would have to make do without it, I pulled on my clothes quickly. My phone buzzed, making me pause. I picked it up from the bedside drawer. The notification was from my best friend, Chloe; a series of text messages. Chloe: On a scale of one to a zillion how good was he? Chloe: Don’t tell me you two are still going at it. Chloe: Why aren’t you texting me back? Chloe: Oh my god!!! Please don’t tell me he is a serial killer assassin killer. Chloe: Sophia answer me! Answer me!! Answer me!!! I barked out a laugh, sending a quick text back to assure Chloe I was fine. “Don’t tell me you are texting another man when you haven’t even left my hotel room,” a silky voice drawled, making me freeze. His voice was like fine wine, wrapping around my senses and intoxicating my mind with its depth. The same voice that had whispered dirty things in my ear while his hands did wicked things to my body in the most delicious way. “Open your eyes, precious. I want to see them when you come.” Cursing softly, I raised my eyes to meet his gaze, regretting it almost immediately. He stood there, a wall of sculpted muscle. A white towel, barely clinging to his lean hips, framed a vision that stole my breath. His golden eyes seemed to burn into me, their intensity almost tangible. His dark hair, slicked back from the shower, clung to his forehead in defiance. A slow burn ignited in my core as I traced the path of water droplets down his neck to the tattoos on his chest. The corner of his lips, etched with the hint of a smirk, sent tremors through me. His gaze was laced with amusement, daring me to break the spell. “I… I’m leaving.” One of his eyebrows raised in the most seductive way. “So soon? I was really hoping we could have a repeat of last night.” A blush rose to my cheeks as I remembered how he had pulled at my hair. Steadying myself, I straightened my back. “I am leaving,” I repeated more clearly this time. The playful smirk didn’t leave his beautiful lips. “I am not stopping you, am I? Although,” he stepped closer to me, “Are you going to leave without this?” He raised my panties in the air, then bunched up the fabric in his hands. “I will give them to you if you tell me your name.” “Look, Mr. Whatever Your Name Is. Last night should never have happened. I don’t know what you did to me or how you did it, but I want to make something clear. It. Was. A. Mistake.” “How long did it take you to think up that moving speech?” he mocked. “I don’t have time for this. Give me back my panties. I have to get to work.” I snapped. “You mean this?” And then he did the most shocking thing. He brought the underwear to his nose, taking a long sniff. I stared at him, gaping, wondering why my legs tightened. Maybe it was the way he closed his eyes like it was bliss, or the way he half-groaned. The images came back with full force. His tie binding my hands behind me while he slammed into me over and over. “I am afraid I cannot give it back,” his silky voice cut through the haze. “Why?” I whispered, my lips suddenly dry. Before I had the chance to move, he crossed the room in two long strides. His hand grabbed my neck, holding me captive in his gaze. “Because,” his breath fanned my face, “I need it to remind myself that you are real, Precious.” The words traveled alongside his other hand down the swell of my right breast. My breathing hitched, making me aware of my n*****s poking through my shirt. Between my legs throbbed in the most pleasurable yet painful way, and I knew without a doubt that I was losing whatever game he was playing. “I need to go,” I whispered again, barely recognizing my own voice. My eyes pleaded with him to let me go, something that only seemed to spur him on. “Why don’t you stay, precious? There are so many things I still want to do to you. I want to hear you scream and—” “Please stop. Stop.” He frowned, suddenly taking a step back. “You are not a s*x worker, are you?” If it had been any other situation, I would have been offended. Instead, I shook my head. With that, I turned around to leave, but his hand stopped me. “Tell me your name.” “I’m sorry, I can’t.” I tried to twist my hand out of his grip, but he wouldn’t budge. “Why?” “I just can’t.” “When can I see you again...?” His voice rumbled, a low tremor that vibrated through my bones. It held a vulnerability that ripped through my carefully constructed facade. “You can’t. I already told you this was a mistake,” I whispered, my own voice barely a breath against the silence. “But I want to,” he insisted, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. His gaze, unyielding, dared me to deny him. “Well, that’s a you problem.” He laughed, a dark humor dancing in his eyes. “You really are something, aren’t you, Precious?” I didn’t give a reply. “I want to,” he insisted, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down my spine. “I want to see you again.” I looked at him for a moment, fighting a raging war within me. Then the practical side won. I turned, my heart hammering against my ribs, but before I reached the door, his voice stopped me. “Precious,” he called. I hesitated, my resolve wavering. He met me halfway, his eyes burning into mine with an intensity that stole my breath. He held out a small piece of paper. “I would give you my business card,” he said, his voice tempting, “but you don’t seem to be interested in getting to know me as I am you.” A flicker of amusement danced in my eyes. “So, what is this?” “It’s where I will be tomorrow night,” he said. “I have one more day in this city.” The elevator doors slid open, finally giving me an escape. I stepped inside, my gaze locked with his. “I’ll wait for you,” he said, his voice barely a whisper as the doors began to close. I held his gaze until the metal barrier severed our connection, his words echoing in the silence. The small piece of paper felt like a brand against my skin as I unfolded it, my fingers tracing the scrawled letters. A sigh escaped my lips, and with a heavy heart, I tucked it away in the depths of my bag. That night, as sleep refused to come, his face haunted my dreams. His voice, a husky whisper, filled my ears. His touch, a phantom fire on my skin. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing him away, telling myself I would forget. I wou ld forget the mysterious stranger who had taken my virginity. That was the biggest lie I ever told myself.