Page 18 of End Game

I laugh softly. “Yes, it definitely can cause… performance issues.”

“Good to know,” she says quietly, but there’s still some humor in her voice.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t like touch,” I offer more gently.

I reach for her hand before I can overthink the decision and place her open palm against my chest.

My attention snaps immediately to the contact.

But I chose it. I know exactly where her hand is.

And that makes it okay.

“There are plenty of kinds of touch I like very much. It means I need to know it’s coming. Or initiate it myself. Once my brain has categorized it as expected, it’s different.”

“Sooo, the bondage is not just fun?” she asks playfully.

“No, it’s not,” I answer with a smile, still holding her hand on my chest. “When I bind someone, there are very few surprises. I know where they are. I know they can only touch me if I plan for it and allow it to happen. There’s very little sensory input I haven’t already anticipated.”

Her eyebrows lift. “So control really is your love language.”

“Predictability,” I correct with a smile. “Control is just significantly more fun.”

I release her hand but leave it resting against my chest.

Immediately, part of my attention locks onto it.

She could move now. I don’t know exactly where.

I try to make myself stop thinking about it.

“I like fun,” she says seductively.

“Oh, I know,” I reply. “And I think you like not knowing what is going to happen to you—where you’ll be touched, how you’ll be touched… who will touch you.”

Her thumb moves—a short brush against my chest.

My attention catches on it instantly, but nothing inside me recoils. I watched it happen. I knew where she was.

It’s good.

“It’s okay, Cami,” I answer carefully.

“Can I move my hand?”

The corners of my lips turn up a little more. “You can.”

Her fingers move slowly enough that I can track every inch—up my chest, over my shoulder, down my upper arm, then back again.

My brain follows the path automatically.

But instead of competing with everything else, the sensation becomes the thing I want to pay attention to.

The urge to kiss her becomes impossible to ignore. I catch her hand, loop my other arm around her waist, and pull her into my lap.

She laughs softly, and I kiss her tenderly.

I take her hand again and place her palm against my cheek.