Page 151 of Dream House
That brow arches again. “Technically, she was stabbed fourteen times after refusing to have sex with this twenty-year-old guy.”
I gasp.
Lark nods. “Apparently, she forgave him before she expired.”
I bite my bottom lip. “A-and you tell your mom she should have named you after this murdered child because…?”
He snickers, the sound is all bitterness. “Because she died a virgin.”
I stare at him.
He gives me a conspiratorial look. “Mom’s big on virginity. At least before marriage. And then she’s big on procreation.” His eyes narrow. “And I’m a bit of a disappointment in that department.”
My mouth falls open. “But you’re twenty-three years old.”
Lark nods. “Which is a year older than Bear and Maggie were when they got married.”
My eyes bug.
“But I started disappointing her long before that,” he says. Again, he wears a smile that doesn’t look like a smile at all.
I shouldn’t ask. I really shouldn’t ask.
“H-How long?”
Lark snorts and then breaks into real laughter. His eyes light up, and it’s a relief to see. “You really want to know?”
I lick my lips. “Only if you want to tell me.”
Grinning, Lark’s big hand spans his forehead and he rubs his temples with his thumb and middle finger. “Um, when I was twelve years old, she caught me chokin’ the chicken in the cow barn.”
My hand flies to my mouth. “Oh, Lark.”
His fingers grip the front of his hair in a way that hurts my scalp. “Let me tell you, she f-reaked out.” His embarrassed smile makes me want to laugh and cry at the same time.
“She told me I was committing the Sin of Onan and that I needed to go to confession.” I gasp again. He rolls his eyes. “I flat out refused. I told her I was not gonna tell Father Quibodeaux that I was polishing the pole in—“
And now I can’t help it. I’m dying. Lark joins me, his face going red. I can’t resist. Laughing, I press a kiss to each of his pink cheeks.
“I can’t believe I just told you that,” he mutters, shaking his head.
This sends me into a new fit of laughter. “If it makes you feel any better, Tyler caught me committing the Sin of Onan at our dad’s house when I was fourteen.”
Lark goes completely still. “He did?” His eyes are the size of Peppermint Patties.
It was ages ago, but the memory still makes me cringe. “Yeah, he came into my room to borrow my earbuds, but I was… um… using them, and—”
“What were you listening to?”
Okay, now I’m the one who can’t believe I told him this. “Um... ‘Summer Love.’” My face is on fire. “Justin Timberlake.”
Lark beams. “I remember when that song came out,” he says, sounding awed. “I was in fourth grade—Ow!”
I hold his nipple in a death grip. “You didnotjust say that.”
Laughing, he covers my hand with his. “I don’t mean it like that.”
I pinch harder. “How do you mean it?”
