A Late Night Encounter at the Bar

I'm the bartender at this small local bar that's always buzzing with people late into the night. My husband is supportive of my work and knows I love it here, but there's something I've been keeping from him for months now, and it's eating away at me more each day. It started a few months ago when I was working extra hours because we needed the money to fix our car. One night, towards closing time, this guy came in looking like he'd just rolled out of bed. He wasn't from around here and there was something about him that seemed familiar yet strange at the same time. As I handed him his drink, he asked if I could come up to his room at a hotel down the street for some...company. I told him no immediately, but there was this weird moment of eye contact where I felt drawn in somehow. It was ridiculous, this random guy wanting something from me and me actually considering it for a split second. Then he left and I tried to shrug it off, thinking 'What am I even doing?' But the next night as we were closing up and cleaning out the bar, the idea of going back into that hotel room with him flashed through my mind again. What if I just did something different for a change? A thrill or two wouldn't hurt... So I did it. Against every instinct telling me not to, I went upstairs to his room, where he was waiting. He wasn't aggressive, just a little insistent that we were both adults here and we could enjoy ourselves if we wanted to. In the end, there's no denying what happened between us; I gave in, feeling something mix of shame and excitement. And now it's become a routine, every time he comes into town late at night on business trips, this pattern plays out again. I lie awake thinking about it every single day after we do the deed, wondering how I could be cheating on my husband with someone like him while knowing deep down what kind of person he really is. I've convinced myself that we don't say anything real to each other and we're just in this for the fleeting moments of pleasure. But as much as it scares me, there's a part of me that thinks about going back up those stairs again next time he comes around. It's crazy, how can I even think like this? I keep telling myself it'll be my last night but somehow, it never is.