IT’S HOT, FAR, far too hot. My legs kick out in an attempt to rid myself of my sheets, but they don’t budge. They also don’t feel like sheets, not even slightly.

My eyes snap open, and it takes me a good few seconds for my mind to process what my eyes are seeing. A long thick leg lay between my own, the leg belongs to a very naked muscular torso, and a heavy tanned arm currently draped across my chest, pinning me to the mattress. I blink, making sure I’m awake and not imagining this, and then I slowly turn my head and come face to face with Callum.

I feel my heart jolt in my chest at the sight of him. His messy dark hair looks like perfection, no matter how mussed it is, and those long, thick, black eyelashes that have no business belonging to a man are fanned across the swell of his cheeks. My throat feels dry as I take in the sight of his square jaw, dusted with a few days of regrowth and his lips parted ever so slightly. They allow each one of his even breaths to tickle my neck as they pass over me. I take a second to watch him and then I’m assaulted by the memories of last night and how I came to be pinned to the bed by this beautiful man.

Goosebumps race across my body, despite the oppressive heat, and I need to move but I don’t want to wake him. He looks so peaceful and content but I have to free myself. If I don’t move in the next thirty seconds I’m going to either pass out from the heat and weight of him, or I’m going to pee myself, and then pass out. Neither is appealing, so with as much grace and caution as I can muster, I wriggle down the bed, and slither like a snake from under his arm before letting myself slide from the bed and onto the floor with all the poise of a baby hippo.

The floorboards moan and protest under my weight, and I quickly look back to Cal, who seems so completely oblivious to my escape that he hasn’t so much as stirred. I grab the first item of clothing my eyes land on—Cal’s gray worn t-shirt. I pull it over my head and am immediately hit with the scent of him as the soft fabric slides over my face. I take a deep breath, and then push my arms through and pad out to the bathroom as quietly as I can, given that my muscles feel heavy from sleep and the late night impromptu workout they received. I ache in all the right places, and I can’t help but smile at the thought.

I catch my reflection in the mirror as I wash my hands in the basin, and I straighten and shut off the water, watching the person staring back at me closely. I don’t recognize her. Sure she has my untamed bed hair, making me look like I was dragged through a hedge backward in my sleep; she even has my slightly kiss-swollen lips and flushed complexion from the heat. But it’s not me, because the Robyn I know wouldn’t have had sex with her boss, and she certainly wouldn’t have had sex with him—no matter how amazing—while seeing another man.

Cole may not be my boyfriend, but that’s just a technicality. I knew his intentions; he’s been nothing but up front about wanting a relationship, and I’ve been happy to hang around, fooling him and myself with this casual status. I’m a horrible person. Guilt is coursing through my veins, and I look away from the mirror. I can’t stand to look at myself right now because even my guilt is misplaced. I feel guilty because I know I would do it again, given the same circumstances. I’d still sleep with Cal, so what kind of awful bitch must I be?

I feel sick as I make my way out of the bathroom and back down the hall. I want to blame it on the wine I shared with Cole, but I know it’s a lie. My sickness stems from my own inability to keep a hold of my morals. I’ve never been a cheater, and up until last night, I would have quite categorically announced that I never would be. I’ve been on the receiving end of infidelity, and it was enough to keep my moral compass pointing true north…until now.

My high school boyfriend Michael was the love of my naïve teenage life, and I would have followed him anywhere. I was so drunk on his fake affection that I was blinded to the way he treated me with very little, if any, respect. My rose-tinted glasses were firmly in place, and I’d defy anyone who questioned the solidarity of our relationship, even putting him ahead of friendships that had been in place since kindergarten. He would placate me with huge public displays of what I know now were false affection.

The night of my sixteenth birthday Michael was missing, as all of my friends gathered around me singing Happy Birthday. I’d decided to go find him, and that’s exactly what I did. I found him in the downstairs bathroom of my parents’ house with my older sister Erin’s best friend Jaime. His pants hung down at his ankles as her head frantically bobbed back and forth, kneeling in front of him. I don’t remember what I did next, but I know that it took him another five minutes before both he and Jaime left the bathroom and left the party together in her car. The rumors that circulated school were that he was caught mid-blowjob and decided that having her finish was a better idea than chasing after me. I don’t know if it was the humiliation or the sheer sense of betrayal, but I vowed I’d never be the kind of person that did that to someone else. If I didn’t want to be with them, I’d tell them before moving on. The realization that I’m now no better than Michael makes my skin crawl and my stomach ache in disgust.

I’m nearing the end of the hall and stop in my tracks. Where do I go from here? Do I crawl back into bed with Cal? Or sneak into my own room and hide while I try to figure out what the hell I’m doing, before facing Cal or Cole? Fate decides for me as I’m standing in the middle of the hall wearing Cal’s t-shirt and nothing else. I’m having a moral meltdown, and Callum pads out of his room scratching his head, yawning, completely naked as the day he was born. The heat that I thought was suffocating five minutes before suddenly feels tepid in comparison to the fire seeing Cal ignites. I press my thighs together as an arrow of desire quickly shoots south and spears me with arousal. My pulse kicks up a few gears as my heart decides to try and escape my chest, drumming wildly against my ribs and I freeze, not knowing what to do or where to look.

My greedy eyes fall from his face down over the peaks and dips of his hard, smooth abs, following the arrow of that beautiful V and fixating on his very erect penis. I realize I’m ogling him and as he moves toward me, something in my brain clicks and I pull my gaze north. His lazy smile lights something behind his eyes and it’s hypnotic. I can’t force my mouth to form any words as he closes the distance between us, leaning in and kissing me soft and sensual like it’s the most natural thing in the world and we do it every day. His hands cup my ass and pull me into his erection, giving me a quick squeeze. He growls before he lets me go and carries on walking, disappearing into the bathroom and leaving me a mess of red hot, liquefied goo. I don’t think I’ve ever been as shocked and turned on at the same time. I’m struggling to catch my breath and compose myself.

“Tweet?” he shouts from the bathroom. His voice is rough and sexy from sleep.

“Yeah?” Mine sounds weak and timid like a little girl, rather than a grown woman.

“Don’t even think about going back to your room.”

Oh, my God. I have no idea what to answer in return, so I don’t. Instead, I look down at my toes and take a few long, deep, fortifying breaths in a frail effort to regain composure. It’s a futile task: my legs are clamped together, my nipples are straining against the fabric of his shirt and I’m all too aware of the scent of him that surrounds me. Add that to the image of him naked and smiling as he kissed me like he really and truly meant it, and I shuffle back to his room on autopilot.