#Chapter58
/"Maybe,/" Lucien whispered to himself, heart accelerating against his chest like a woodpecker in a pecking frenzy, /"I'm not cut out for this naughty boy stuff./"
For as enlightening as the realisation was, however, it was slightly too late. His bare feet were already on the kitchen counter and his hands were already wrapped around the shiny-wrapped gift. It wasn't his birthday for another two months, but Ronan had a bad habit of trickle feeding him gifts right up until the occasion because he tended to get over-excited.
