Page 128 of Forbidden Lessons

He takes a big breath, and then scrapes his fingers over his scalp. “Okay, okay. Here.” He takes his phone out of his pocket, and taps on it a few times. “Go inside, get some sleep. I’ll be back at noon to collect you.”

“Collect me where?”

His impatient sigh sounds like an old-school teakettle. “Just…go sleep it off.” With a flick of his hand, he dismisses me. “Go on. And drink lots of water.”

“Sleep. Water.” I head for his house, sticking my thumb up into the air. “Gotcha.”

“Guess I’ll do this myself then,” I hear him mumble as I slip back into his house.

But my mind is entirely focused on getting into his warm, soft, silky bed. I make two detours though. The first, to fetch a big glass of water from the kitchen. And the second, to pluck a t-shirt from his closet.

The water goes on the nightstand, the t-shirt goes over my head. A second later, my bra is on the floor, and my ass is under the sheets.

I don’t remember falling asleep.

I’m woken by a thud that jerks me awake. I gasp, pushing onto my elbows as I stare at the window where the sound came from.

There’s a dark smudge on the glass.

My entire body tenses as I drag my gaze down, down…

Uncle Lenny flashes me a lurid grin and then scuttles away on all fours like a fucking spider.

I sit up with a strangled scream, the sheets falling into my lap. My heart is beating so hard it feels like it’s going to explode from my chest. I whip my head to stare at the glass, but there’s nothing there.

No smudge.

No dead bird.

No Uncle Lenny.

I drag my legs up, resting my elbows on my knees as I wrap my arms around my head.

It feels like someone’s trying to chime my skull like the Liberty Bell.

And that’sbeforeI start sobbing.

But I only let it go on for a minute or two before I drag myself back toward myself. I slap my face a few times, swipe tears out of my eyes, and force a calm breath deep into my lungs.

That dreadful phase of my life is over. It didn’t kill me, it only made me stronger. So enough with the crying and the feeling sorry for myself.

I turn back to the window, doing another check, just in case.

A jolt of panic goes through me when I realize it’s twilight outside.

I’ve been sleeping the whole day?

Where is Bastian?

Did he come back and?—

The bathroom door slides back on its hinges, and Bastian steps out wearing a towel…and nothing else.

Oh, sweet baby Jesus.

He’s staring at his phone, so he hasn’t even noticed that I’m awake yet. Which means I have all the time in the world to ogle his toned arms, his slim waist, the thin trail of dark hair that narrows to a path heading straight for his?—

“Oh, good. You’re up.”

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