The locker room door hissed shut behind Amy, the metallic clangechoing down the empty corridor like a gunshot.
She leaned against the cool tile wall, her bare skin prickling against the grout lines, her breath still uneven from the climb.
The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting a sickly yellow glow over her flushed body, her thighs still slick with dried lube and the faint ache between her legs a constant, throbbing reminder of what she’d just endured. Or enjoyed.
The word sent a fresh pulse of heat through her, tightening her n*****s.
She shouldn’t be back here.
The thought was automatic, clinical, the same way she’d tell herself don’t forget to chart the patient’s BP before walking into a room.
But her body didn’t give a damn about should. Her fingers twitched at her sides
