“So, you go into the locker room and take one of mine,” he growls. “But the only goddamn number that goes on that body of yours is mine. The fact that you even gave that shithead the time of day pisses me off.” Good. That was the point. “Maybe I just wanted to feel good.” He chuckles, turning the steering wheel to the left. “Oh, trust me, baby. You’re going to.”
