I was utterly flustered and shaking from the encounter. The shock, the disgust, and the residual adrenaline made my mind cloudy, and I didn't think much about anything but escaping as I stumbled back into my room.
The instant my eyes met Luther's—who was, as usual, waiting for me—my chest immediately tightened, but not from the fear of being caught. It was a wave of genuine guilt and acute dismay that hit me.
Luther didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve to have his wife assaulted in the hallway by her ex-lover, and he certainly didn't deserve my moment of sickening, automatic surrender. I hated myself for it. I should have dealt with Nash better. I should have stepped back immediately. I should have instantly reminded myself in that crucial, split second that I was married—that I belong
