“To stay pure. Untouched. No boy’s hands, no late-night secrets, no wicked little thoughts before sleep.”
Her face burned. She had never told anyone about the dreams—the ones where warm fingers traced her collarbone and a voice like velvet promised her the world. She had woken from those dreams feeling guilty and electric, pressing her thighs together in the dark. lisey sweet pure taboo
She pressed her ear to the wood. The tapping stopped. Then a voice—low, honey-smooth, patient—said, “You’re awake.” “To stay pure
“Then you have nothing to fear.”
Curiosity was a sin she hadn’t yet learned to confess. no late-night secrets