𝐕𝐈𝐈

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THE next two weeks are... in a word: bliss.

I can't get enough of Harry, and he seemingly can't get enough of me. We see each other during the weeks for lunch, but he can't stay in the city for any length of time because he's caring for the boys while Krista is away. But when the weekends arrive, he's all mine.

We fuck in every room in my house, in a lot of positions. I'm sore all over, but love the feeling. We're sometimes quick and sometimes sensual. It all depends on what we need at that moment.

He always makes me feel like we shouldn't be ashamed of what we're doing. I like staring into his eyes when he climaxes. It's so intense and powerful.

But it's not just about sex. Harry still helps me unpack sometimes and during those times, learn more about him. I complain that I won't ever be done, but secretly don't mind. Neither does he. He says he enjoys it. I introduce him to my obsession with foreign films and we drink wine while I explain certain plot points.

When Harry finds out that I'm fluent in French, he demands that I speak it to him even if he can't understand it. He finds it sexy.

We lay in bed on Friday nights, cuddling and stroking our bodies, soaking up each other's touch. We know that when the next morning comes, he will have to go home to be there for his kids.

"What's your favorite color?" Harry asks me.

"Blue," I reply. "You?"

"Red."

"How bold of you."

"I like to live life on the wild side." He sucks on the pebbled peak of my bare breast.

"Obviously." I giggle.

We're naked and sweaty, too happy to care about the outside world.

"What's your favorite movie?" I ask him.

"I don't know. I haven't watched an adult movie in about ten years." Harry laughs. "My life is a revolving door of Disney and Pixar films. I'm partial to Aladdin."

"I might need to brush up on my cartoons if I'm going to be hanging out with you."

All too soon, he must leave. George calls and says that he's almost home, so Harry has to get back before them. I hate to see him leave, but I know that he'll be back. He'll always come back.

I call my mother and speak to her for about an hour. She wants to know how I'm doing with the move and finding friends. She says I'm always so secluded and private. She would like for me to be more social. I don't dare mention Harry. Hopefully, she will never have to know about him.

As soon as I hang up the phone with Renee, it rings again. I stare at the number and see Cassidy Marshall's name flash across the screen.

"That's strange," I pick up, "Hello?"

"Hi, Alyssa. I don't know if you remember me, but It's Cassidy. We met at the museum."

"Of course. Ryan's wife. How are you doing?"

"I'm fine. I was actually calling to invite you to Red Sox game. Ryan loves baseball and we have an extra ticket. We thought you might like to come."

"Oh, that's... very thoughtful of you, but I wouldn't want to intrude."

"Are you sure? You can't live in Boston and not have gone to a Red Sox game. It's kind of a necessity."

I think about the conversation I had with Renee not five minutes earlier. I can hear her voice pushing me to accept the invitation.

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