Page 541 of End Game

Then ankles.

Every buckle checked twice.

Every point of contact predictable.

When he lifts the blindfold, I nod before he asks.

Darkness settles over me.

The world shrinks.

No parents.

No ICU.

No legal documents.

No future conversations waiting their turn.

Only the table under my back.

Ronan's hand around my wrist.

His voice. “Breathe.”

I do.

“In.”

Air fills my lungs.

“Out.”

My shoulders sink.

Again.

Again.

Again.

His fingers trace slowly over my arm, my ribs, my hip.

Never surprising me.

Never asking me to interpret anything.

When his mouth finds mine, the kiss is soft enough that my throat aches.

I expect hunger eventually.

He touches me like the goal is not to overwhelm me but to leave no room for anything else.

A palm over my stomach.

Lips against my throat.

His voice telling me when to breathe, when to open, when to relax.