Page 29 of The Daredevil

I was game for whatever was going on.

Michelle:What’s your definition of a ‘good girl’?

Royce:I asked you first.

Michelle:Ladies first. Or are you not a gentleman?

Royce:That depends. My definition is flexible, depending on your definition of a ‘good girl.’ So what is it?

Oh my God. The insides of my thighs tightened.

Could it be me, or was this conversation flirtatious and nerdy at the same time? Perhaps the wires in my brain were twisted right now.

Heat pooled in my core, and my body misbehaved from the wild images floating in my head.

Shit, shit, shit. For the first time, my underwear was soaked from a text conversation. I hadn’t reacted to a man like this ever. Royce made my body lose control.

I could practically feel my internal fluids trickling out of me, making me gasp. It was a good thing he wasn’t sitting beside me because he’d know something was up. I placed a hand over my stomach to calm the jitters.

Nerves weren’t new to me. I’d learned to distinguish the variations of them. The ones that plagued me came from the monster that wanted me to spend hours and hours at the gym while whispering degrading things about me. Those nerves had sharp fangs. But these luscious nerves didn’t have fangs. These were the kind that reminded me of the thrill from a roller coaster, full of excitement and wonder.

Royce brought on this new thrill I hadn’t experienced in a long time, and I welcomed it even though I knew it would pose a threat later. Like most unknown things, the conclusion was unpredictable, but I wouldn’t know the answer until I tried it.

What kind of thrill are you, Royce?

I didn’t know what I was doing with him, but I couldn’t resist the temptation to find out. Just chatting with him elicited a joy I hadn’t felt in a long time, and I’d take any opportunity that offered me pleasure.

A hot rich guy like him could get any woman he wanted. He probably had a list of supermodels, celebrities, or rich heiresses from wealthy families at his beck and call. Maybe he was a big flirt and chatting with me or any girl was his normal ritual. The thought soured my mood, so I pushed it away.

Royce:Excuse me. Have you seen the Good Girl? Did I scare her off?

I laughed, realizing I’d escaped into my thoughts and hadn’t replied to him. Damn wet underwear throwing me off.

Michelle:Not scared. Just contemplating. My definition of a good girl depends on YOUR definition of a gentleman.

Royce:I like how you’re playing this game. I know what kind of girl you are—a bad girl in a good girl disguise. Right? (smile emoji)

I wasn’t sure how to answer that. He was probably right. I was a professional and pleasant when working or out in public. But in private, I had a provocative imagination. Didn’t everyone?

For someone who loved spontaneity and adventure, I had my collection of secret desires. But I wasn’t going to share that with him. Based on his comment, he probably knew. I liked that he knew.

I didn’t belong to a particular category. I liked change because it made things exciting, so I could be “good” or “bad” depending on my mood.

Michelle:A ‘bad girl’ has various definitions too. I’m a flexible girl.

Shit. As soon as I sent that message, I could see the image that would pop into his mind. It was vivid in mine, sending more liquid heat to my underwear.

Royce:Do you think your flexibility can sway my hard stance?

Holy shit.I cupped a hand over my mouth, laughing as though someone was in my apartment with me. This conversation was making me sweat.

Michelle:Maybe.

Royce:I know you prefer the wild side.

Michelle:How do you know?

Royce:I see it in your eyes, the spark for adventure. Someone who loves adventure is a ...

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