"Wait… sir, I can't…"

While I was performing physical therapy on a patient, the vest I was wearing accidentally tore. In front of the patient's guardian, it exposed my sweat-dampened body.

The man's gaze settled on the soft curves that had sprung free, his eyes dark and unreadable.

When he pressed me against the mirror and made me watch my own reflection—my body left in disarray under his relentless attention—I knew then that everything was about to spiral into an uncontrollable abyss.

My name is Sophia Bennett, and I work as a rehabilitation therapist at a physiotherapy hospital, mainly helping patients with limb issues regain strength and mobility. The city I live in has seen rapid economic growth, and families who can afford high-end rehab centers are usually wealthy, which makes my salary quite substantial.

It was Sunday afternoon. The sun hung high in the sky, and the heat was stifling. I planned to spend a romantic—and wildly passionate—weekend with my husband, so I requested the day off.

I had been married to Jason Mercer for three years. He began pursuing me back in our school days, and shortly after graduating from university, we moved in together and married.

During university, our love burned like wildfire. There were times when passion overtook reason, and we would steal away to empty classrooms, avoiding cameras, where he would wrap me in his arms, his fingers tracing the hem of my uniform, his hot breath pressing against my neck, pinning me against the wall and claiming me with his dominant strength…

But after marriage, our intimacy had dimmed. Today, with no work to occupy me, I slipped into a snug sports vest and ultra-short shorts—thin, sheer, and revealing every curve—and began stretching in the living room, my body outlined and tantalizing. I leaned toward Jason, who sat on the carpet scrolling through his phone.

"Honey… want some?" I teased softly, letting the scent of desire drift toward him. Below, my body had already betrayed me, secreting a sticky heat that had dampened my shorts.

He absentmindedly stroked my hair. "I'm too tired lately… let me rest today." Then he returned to his phone.

That excuse again. This was the fourth time this month he had refused me for the same reason.

Just then, my supervisor called. Vanessa Hart, who was scheduled for physiotherapy today, had to rush her mother to the hospital due to an emergency and couldn't make it. The rehab client she was supposed to see this afternoon had already arrived at the clinic. I needed to cover immediately.

I hesitated for a moment, thinking of my husband's cold indifference, then decided I had no choice but to deal with the day's work.

Time was tight. I threw on my white coat and rushed to the clinic. The heat made me sweat, and by the time I arrived, my back was soaked.

After greeting my supervisor, I hurried to Room 4.

"You must be Mr. Hayes. Sorry to keep you waiting." I panted as I spoke.

He nodded, and I began the session.

His son appeared a little stiff, both in body and movement. I knelt on the mat, gently mobilizing joints, massaging muscles, and guiding stretches to help open his body.

Because of the patient, the room was kept warmer than usual, and I worked with constant effort. In less than half an hour, I was drenched, my thin white coat clinging to every curve.

My vest stuck tightly to my skin, every movement making the fabric brush sensually against me. Overheated, I removed the coat, revealing the home workout outfit underneath.

Sweat had soaked the clothes, tracing every line of my body. More revealing than a bikini, the outfit emphasized my chest and hips. A hint of allure showed through the thin fabric, and on closer inspection, one could make out the dense, neat dark hair below.

"That's it for today's therapy. Your son's condition is improving, but more practice is needed."

I twisted on the mat, lifting my head to meet Mr. Hayes's gaze. My chest bounced with the motion.

His eyes locked on me, and the front of his pants had formed an unmistakable bulge. He cleared his throat, trying to hide it, but his heavy breathing and unrelenting stare betrayed him.

I felt a flush of embarrassment, but underneath it was a guilty thrill: even after years of marriage, my body still held the power to tempt—just like before. I dared not imagine what it would feel like if he were to claim me with that wild, overwhelming intensity…

As I was talking with Mr. Hayes, his son, who was sitting beside me suddenly lost his balance and tipped sideways, instinctively grabbing my vest strap. Whether it was poor quality or just bad luck, there was a sharp rip, and the vest tore cleanly in half. My full, proud chest was exposed before Mr. Hayes…

I froze. For a heartbeat, it felt as if the air itself had stopped. The torn vest hung around my waist, leaving my upper body completely bare. My supple curves, once restrained, quivered slightly with each breath, while the peaks, already hardened from the stifling heat and friction, stood pointed and defiant.

My mind blanked for a few seconds as his intense gaze locked onto the sudden, stark protrusions. I hastily raised my hands to cover myself, managing to shield my chest but unable to shield the scorching heat of his stare.

"Sorry… s-sorry…" The boy realized he had caused the mishap and timidly withdrew his hand.

Mr. Hayes's Adam's apple bobbed violently as the bulge in his shorts became alarmingly pronounced; if the fabric weren't loose and stretchy, it might have split under the pressure.

He struggled to look away, but his breathing grew heavier, ragged and unsteady.

"Dr. Bennett… maybe you should… take a moment to fix yourself."

His voice was rough, and I scrambled for the white coat on the floor, wrapping it around me as my fingers trembled. But the soft flesh beneath it throbbed insistently, pressing against the fabric, forming two unmistakable peaks. When his gaze returned, it immediately found them again.

"I'll go change my clothes."

I muttered and rushed out of Room 4 to the changing area. Standing before the mirror, I saw my flushed cheeks, the fine sheen of sweat across my neck, collarbones, and chest catching the light. The two peaks refused to settle, stubbornly pressing against the fabric.

That evening, after finishing work, I wore only Jason's white shirt. The front buttons strained against the swell beneath. He leaned against the headboard, scrolling through his phone, while I straddled him, completely bare underneath. The hem of the shirt did nothing to conceal the smooth curve of my thighs.

His eyes stayed glued to the screen as I leaned down, brushing a soft kiss against his Adam's apple, then teasingly sucking at his neck. His body stiffened suddenly, and his breathing grew heavy. I explored further, my hand sliding down to grasp the soft mass beneath the shirt.

Three seconds… five… ten… thirty…

It lay there, unresponsive, like it had gone completely still.

Jason frowned and, annoyed, pushed my hand away.

"I'm tired today," he said, flipping onto his side, back to me, returning to his phone.

I knelt on the bed, shirt open, my chest proud and bare before him—but he didn't so much as glance. I stared at his back, changing clothes later, and lay on the other side of the bed, unable to sleep for a long while.

Since Vanessa had to care for her mother, she couldn't work on Monday, Wednesday, Friday, or Sunday afternoons, so I continued covering her shifts, taking care of Mr. Hayes's son.

The next day, I saw Mr. Hayes again. He introduced himself properly this time—his name was Alexander Hayes.

His son, Noah Hayes, was in good spirits today.

I knelt on the mat and continued his stretching exercises. As I leaned forward, the lapels of my white coat fell open. The sweat-soaked sports vest beneath clung to my chest like a second skin, the fabric so thin you could make out the contours of my areolas.

"Relax. That's it. Easy does it..."

I was focused on adjusting the child's position when I looked up and met Alexander's eyes.

He sat on the mat nearby, a book in his hands that hadn't seen a page turn in far too long. His gaze had settled on my open collar. Motionless.

When our eyes met, he didn't look away. His Adam's apple moved. The knuckles holding his book's spine went white.

Heat crept up my cheeks. I tugged at my lapel. "Mr. Hayes. Is that book any good?"

There was a pause, then he flashed a smile. "Not really." His eyes still hadn't moved.

When the session ended, the caretaker took Noah for his assessment.

I headed to the storage room for new resistance bands. I'd just found them under the mirror when a solid body pressed against me from behind.

The heat of a grown man ignited something restless in my body instantly. I gripped the mirror for support.

"Mr. Hayes." I watched his reflection. "This is the storage room."

His voice was low, his breathing uneven. "I know. Dr. Bennett—was that on purpose earlier?"

I didn't know how to answer.

My silence gave him permission. His lips, hot and urgent, found my neck. His hands began to wander.

With him behind me, holding me, my body went liquid. I let him touch.

It had been too long. My body remembered what it had been missing. Too sensitive. Too ready. Already slick and wanting, wetness began to trail down my thigh.

Alexander's movements grew bolder. One hand cupped my breasts—full and heavy. The other ventured lower, exploring what was hidden.

"You're so responsive."

He withdrew his hand and held it before me, two fingers glistening with proof of my desire. A thin thread stretched between them.

"Dr. Bennett. Is your body always this eager?" He held the strand up, showing me just how far it would stretch.

He tugged my white coat off, leaving me in nothing but that thin athletic wear—even less substantial than last time. More transparent too.

He gripped my head, turning it toward him. His tongue pushed past my lips without preamble.

The hardness of him pressed harder against my lower back with every fierce moment of that kiss. Like iron. His hands grew rougher. When his tongue finally withdrew, a moan escaped me before I could stop it.

"Mmm... no..."

He watched my reflection. His eyes seemed to burn right through me. The sports bra was completely soaked now, plastered to my skin. Transparent. What it concealed, it only teased.

The woman in the mirror was a wreck. Slick with desire. A man wrapped himself around her from behind, fingers working their magic, each movement drawing a tremor from her body.

I watched, legs trembling, mind blank.

The evidence of my arousal kept coming, hot and slick down my thighs. Alexander noticed. He freed himself, slid his length between my legs, slick with my wetness. Each pass made an obscene, wet sound.

His urgency stole my breath. My body began to move with him. I could feel him swelling between my thighs, growing more impressive by the second. If that could be inside me... the thought alone...

Years of unfulfilled nights made every cell in my body scream for it. But—

I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting through the gasps and moans. "I... I have a husband, Mr. Hayes..."

He thrust forward suddenly, his member sliding over my most sensitive spot, cutting my words into a gasp.

"Hm? You don't want this?"

I watched his reflection smile. He already knew he'd won.

"But your body doesn't lie. Look..."

His hand was slick with my wetness. The evidence of his arousal still moved between my thighs. Proof that my body said yes even when my mouth couldn't.

I had no words. Couldn't form them anyway.

Wave after wave of pleasure eroded what was left of my restraint. Thinking was a luxury I couldn't afford.

He pressed my head down. I braced myself against the mirror. He hooked my shorts aside, spread my legs, and positioned himself at my entrance.