“Good girls crack the hardest,” he says absently, almost like he’s talking to himself. I swallow hard, something tight coiling low in my stomach. “I’m not—” “A good girl?” Maddox cuts in smoothly. His eyes flick back to mine. I don’t like the way my pulse reacts. I don’t like the way my thighs clench with whatever the fuck is happening right now. I don’t like the way he says it like he already knows the answer. His stare lingers, watching me, waiting for me to prove him right.
