s, I ha一ve a bedtime story for you.”
Oh?
“You wanted to know . . .” He trails off, closes his eyes and swallows. All of
the hair on my body stands on end . Shit. He begins in a soft voice. “Picture
this, an adolescent boy looking to earn some extra money so he can
continue his secret drinking habit.”
He shifts onto his side so that we’re lying facing each other and he’s gazing
into my eyes.
“So I was in the backyard at the Lincolns’, clearing some rubble and trash
from the extension Mr. Lincoln had just added to their place . . .”
Holy fuck . . . he’s talking.
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E L JAMES