My Patient's Secret Fantasy Became My Nightmare

I’ve been a nurse for over ten years now. I work in critical care at a well-known hospital here in the city. People always think nurses are just there to take vitals and give meds, but sometimes it’s so much more than that. One of my regular patients was Mr. Thompson, a 52-year-old man with severe heart issues. He’d been on bed rest for months after his last surgery, barely able to move without help. Mr. Thompson and I got pretty close over the weeks. It wasn’t professional, but it happens. He had a wife back home who wouldn’t visit, and he seemed lonely. We talked about everything except what we both knew was there: that I had developed some serious feelings for him in my head, despite being married at home. Then one day, Mr. Thompson confessed something to me as part of his therapy process. He said he had a long-standing fantasy about nurses, about being restrained and touched by them in a very intimate way. His eyes got this glint that made me feel sick to my stomach. As the nurse, I was supposed to set boundaries and keep things professional. But there were times when all I wanted was to just give him what he wanted. I’m not sure how it started or why, but one night Mr. Thompson asked if we could role-play his fantasy. He promised it would be consensual and that he'd only ever think of me as a nurse in real life. The guilt hit me hard, I was married, I had a kid, all this nonsense about professional boundaries. But my body betrayed my mind, there was a part of me that wanted to give him everything. We did it. We went through the whole thing, him restrained and me acting as both nurse and dominatrix. He was gentle, but firm with his requests. I felt sick afterward, but also oddly liberated. The next day when he asked if we could do it again, my heart sank to my stomach. So here’s where things get complicated: I’m married with kids at home. My husband wouldn’t understand or accept any of this. If anyone finds out about me and Mr. Thompson, it will be the end for both of us. But every day now when I visit him, he looks at me like he's waiting for it to happen again. I know what you’re thinking, I’m an asshole. Maybe I am. But my question is this: Was there any way out of how things ended up? Am I the only one who knew better?