Page 623 of End Game

His mouth opens wider.

His fingers tighten at my waist.

I move closer until our hips meet.

His very hard cock presses against me through our clothes.

Fuck.

Now I feel exactly how hard he is because of me.

Because of tonight.

Because he liked hurting me and liked holding me afterward and apparently still wants me now that there is nothing left to prove.

My cock stirs despite exhaustion.

I pull back just far enough to look at him.

Ronan's eyes narrow.

A smile pulls at my mouth.

I kiss him again.

His hand slides up my chest and flattens there.

This time I recognize the pressure immediately and stop moving.

Ronan keeps his palm against me for a moment.

His expression changes.

I've watched him make decisions hundreds of times.

Campaign decisions.

House decisions.

Scene decisions.

He gets this slight stillness right before he commits, as though every relevant variable just moved into its proper place.

“Do you want to fuck me?”

My brain stops.

Completely.

Not the soft quiet from subspace.

More like somebody kicked a breaker.

I stare at him.

Ronan waits. “That was a question.”

“I heard you.”