Page 80 of End Game

Ronan goes very still.

An almost evil light flashes in his eyes as he grins.

“That,” he says, voice dropping into the same register as mine, “sounds dangerously like a challenge.”

My attention stays on Cami as I respond, “Maybe it is.”

Her lips part before she swallows. “So this… this is really what we’re doing?” she asks, her voice has a rasp to it.

I look over her shoulder to Ronan, directing the answer to him. “Unless you’re worried.”

His laugh is quiet. “Not even remotely.”

“Good.”

Cami turns slightly, pointing between us. “Okay, I just want it officially noted that I am very in favor of whatever weird male posturing this is becoming.”

“It isn’t posturing,” Ronan says.

“It’s absolutely posturing,” I counter.

Cami looks delighted.

And just like that, the last of the awkwardness is gone.

Not because Ronan took control—because I did.

Somehow we found the thing maybe we didn’t know we needed—a game.

“He thinks he knows you better than I do,” Ronan says to Cami, but his eyes are on me.

“I’ve known her body a hell of a lot longer.”

“That’s not what I said.”

I laugh under my breath and turn Cami in my arms until her back rests against my chest.

“No,” I admit. “I think we know different things.”

Approval flashes in Ronan’s eyes as they move to Cami. “I know what she looks like when she’s already decided to give me something, but is waiting for me to make her.”

Cami’s breath catches.

Well, fuck. I feel that reaction everywhere she’s pressed against me.

The smug asshole smiles. “Your turn.”

I look down at her.

There are a dozen answers I could give him. I know when she’s lying about being tired and when she’s pretending something doesn’t hurt. I know the difference between angry silence and scared silence. I know when she wants reassurance and when reassurance will only piss her off.

And… I know exactly what she’s wanting right now.

I slide one hand up her stomach, stopping at the base of her throat as I bend toward her ear.

“I know when she’s trying not to react because she thinks it’ll encourage me.”

My hand settles lightly against the sides of her neck—I can feel her pulse quicken beneath my thumb and fingers.