I wasn't supposed to be home. But one canceled girls' trip and a quiet house later, I walked in on my son's best friend-shirtless, smirking, and very much not a boy anymore. I should've told him to leave. I should've put on a bra. Instead, I let him kiss me. Touch me. Ruin me in all the ways my husband hadn't in years. I told myself it would only happen once. But one taste wasn't enough. And now? I'm playing with fire in my own bed... and I don't want to stop.
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