Lisey Sweet Pure Taboo -

“Your uncle lies.” A pause. “Open the door, Lisey. Just a crack. I only want to see if you’ve kept your promise.”

“Someone who remembers when you used to leave milk and cookies by the furnace for the ‘house mouse.’ You were six. You wore a nightgown with ducks on it.” lisey sweet pure taboo

She was seventeen, pure in the way only someone sheltered could be—hair in a braid, cheeks dusted with faint freckles, a collection of pressed flowers hidden inside a dictionary. She believed in good manners and quiet evenings. She believed her uncle when he said the basement was unsafe. “Your uncle lies

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. I only want to see if you’ve kept your promise

The basement door clicked shut behind her.

“I’m good,” she whispered. “I’ve been good.”

“Uncle said—”