Page 456 of End Game

“Sorry,” Dex says.

I look at him.

He's grinning.

“You're not.”

“No.”

Cami grabs one of the throw pillows and smacks him with it.

Dex catches the pillow on the rebound and immediately throws it toward Micah. Micah ducks.

It hits Ronan squarely in the chest.

Everything stops.

Dex's eyes go wide enough that I know he's calculating whether the back door is close enough to make a run for it.

Cami clamps a hand over her mouth.

I start laughing before Ronan even looks down.

He studies the pillow in his lap for several seconds, then slowly raises his eyes. “No.”

Dex is already retreating across the couch. “I didn't do it.”

“You threw it.”

“At Micah.”

“That defense lacks merit.”

Ronan throws the pillow.

It catches Dex directly in the face.

Cami folds over laughing, and I'm not far behind her.

Sex with five people, I'm learning, involves a lot less seamless choreography than porn would have you believe and considerably more risk from decorative home furnishings.

Honestly, I prefer it this way.

The laughter doesn't destroy anything because there isn't anything fragile here to destroy. Nobody is performing some perfect version of group sex. Nobody is waiting for Ronan to issue orders so we know where our bodies belong.

We rearrange ourselves until something feels good, then rearrange again when somebody's knee starts going numb.

Eventually Cami ends up kneeling on the couch, her hands braced against the back cushions. Dex sits on the back of the couch in front of her, Micah close behind, while Ronan sits half on the broad back of the couch with one hand moving occasionally through Micah's hair.

I stay beside Cami.

Close enough to touch her.

Close enough to kiss her.

Close enough to watch everything happening around her.

And even while her mouth works Dex into a silent place that surprises us all and Micah plays with her pussy with his fingers from behind, I’m okay now.