Page 217 of End Game

“Don't hold back, Micah, let go.”

The orgasm hits differently than I expect.

It rolls through me slowly enough that I feel every part of it, starting low and spreading until my entire body locks and then gives.

My eyes close.

Ronan says my name.

I hear him.

I come across his hand and my stomach, pulse after pulse, while something behind my ribs seems to loosen at the same time.

I don't know how long it lasts.

When I open my eyes again, Ronan is still beside me.

His hand is moving faster over himself now.

His jaw is tight.

I watch him stroke himself because I can't seem to look anywhere else.

He comes with a low sound I feel more than hear, spilling over his fist and my stomach while his eyes stay on mine.

It's the hottest thing I've ever seen.

Ronan breathes for a few seconds.

Then he immediately looks at me.

“Micah.”

“Mm.”

His brow furrows.

“Color?”

I have to find the word again. “Green.”

He releases a breath. “Okay.”

His hands move to my wrists.

The cuffs come off carefully.

One.

Then the other.

He rubs his thumbs over the skin beneath them even though there aren't marks.

I watch his hands—or maybe stare at them.

“Hey.”

I look at him.