“He was staring at my lips, and before I could think better of it, I’d wetted them.

“That’s it, bébé,” he said in a coaxing rasp. “Ma bonne fille.” My good girl. He wrapped one of his arms behind my back, cupping my chin with his free hand. “Evangeline, I’m goan to kiss you until your toes curl, until we’re breathing for each other.”

That was the promise. . . .”