Page 215 of End Game

“Micah?” His voice sounds close even though my thoughts don't.

“Green.” I hear myself say it.

Ronan strokes me again.

Pleasure rolls through me slower than before, not sharp enough to break whatever is happening in my head.

It builds instead.

Layer after layer.

His voice.

His hand.

The cuffs.

My breathing.

“That's it.”

Another stroke.

“Don't chase it.”

I stop lifting my hips.

“Good.”

My cock twitches in his hand.

Some distant part of me recognizes that I've never been this still during sex in my life.

I usually need to touch.

Do.

Watch.

Control something.

Now I don't want anything except what he's already giving me.

Ronan's free hand moves over my chest, grounding pressure over my sternum. “Look at me.”

I do.

“Still green?”

“Yes.”

“You're very quiet.”

I smile. Or I think I do. “My brain's quiet.”

His expression changes.

Something warm.