So when 1 a.m. rolls around and I’m still wide awake, I bite my lip and slide my hand between my legs. Is that what you need from people? To be told what a good girl you are? Before I can stop it, Luke Ryder’s gravelly voice slides into my head. Once again my core clenches, my body whispering, Yes, call me a good girl. My fingers brush my clit, a fleeting caress, before I realize who I’m throbbing for. Just like that, my arousal dies. I’m not allowed to touch myself thinking about the jerk who showed up at my game today, listed all my issues as a player, and then insinuated I don’t deserve to
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