Page 116 of End Game

“What?”

“You can’t just—”

“I absolutely can. You said you weren’t complaining.”

She kicks off her shoes. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet you want to be with me.”

“Poor judgment.”

I catch her hand before she steps further away and pull her back into me.

This kiss is different.

Still Cami smiling against my mouth when I nearly back us into the little table by the door.

Still me muttering, “When did we put a fucking table there?” even though it’s been there for years.

But underneath it?

Fuck. I’m wound up.

I’ve been wound up since the arcade.

So when she pulls away and asks, “Your room?”

I just grin.

She takes off down the hall.

I grab the stuffed dragon. “Don’t forget your son.”

She turns. “Our son.”

“Absolutely not.”

“You were there when we got him.”

“I didn’t consent to parenthood.”

“Deadbeat.”

“Gold digger.”

Her laugher follows us into my room.

By the time my bedroom door closes, the dragon has been unceremoniously tossed into a chair, Cami has her arms around my neck, and I’m seriously reconsidering every complaint I’ve ever made about dating someone who likes to argue with me.

I kiss her, then take my time.

Over time, I’ve learned that Cami gets impatient when she’s turned on.

And impatient Cami is fucking adorable.

At first she tries to pretend she isn’t. Then comes her strategically shifting closer and increasingly less subtle attempts to redirect me. Eventually she starts making annoyed little noises whenever I deliberately refuse to give her exactly what she wants.

Which… only encourages me.