“Do you think I don’t know that, Norman?”
He was an idiot where women were considered. How did Agnes ever live with him? She was certainly glad they’d never gotten more serious than those three weeks in Florence or that dalliance back in ’40. Cristina counted herself lucky – she married the easy-going Angelo Rosamilia, much better than the tight-assed Norman Balmoral.
But, oh, how she loved wrapping her hands around that tight ass. And the sinews of his arms, chest, and shoulders. And feel the thrusts of his narrow waist into her, Norman hard for an hour … but she was forgetting herself.
“Cristina, you have to stop following me. I promised Agnes I’d never see ‘Mary Holmes’ again and I meant it.”
In spite of herself, Cristina laughed. “I can’t believe you shared our private little joke with her. Does she actually think Mary Holmes was a real person?”
“Yes,” Norman replied, “but it’s not funny. We’ve been lying to her these past years. I want to forget we ever happened. Is that understood?”
“Don’t you boss me around, Norman Balmoral. You might have Agnes fooled, but you haven’t fooled me. I’ll do as I please.”
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