More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
She lived for presents. She once told me it was a shame Santa wasn’t real because, as old as he was, she’d fuck him if it meant she’d wake up to a different gift every morning.
“Touch another man, he dies. Let another man touch you, he dies. Tell me I can’t touch you…” His grip tightened on the back of my neck as his voice dropped. “And I will fucking die.”
