Page 102 of Gamebreaker

"Yes, what?"

There was only one answer. I'd been saving it since the tunnel. "Yes, Captain Miserable."

That earned me the laugh again, low this time. "Brat. Try again."

My voice came out a whisper. "Yes, Cam."

"Good girl."

I clenched around nothing, empty and more turned on than I’d ever been in my entire life. An embarrassing sound came out of me, and Cam heard it, and I watched her hear it.

And then she changed.

I saw it happen. Her shoulders settled. Her breathing evened out. Her hand left my jaw and closed around both my wrists, one hand, her fingers long enough to circle them with room to spare, and she lifted my arms over my head and pressed them to the door in a single unhurried motion.

The shake was gone. Completely. Her hand on my wrists was steady as a held breath, and I understood with a jolt that I had just watched Cam Russo stop being nervous. Like a switch. Like she'd stepped onto a court.

"My house," she said.

Two words. My knees did not get the memo about maintaining some semblance of dignity.

"Okay," I breathed. "Cool. Noted. Very clear communication. Love that for us."

She didn't smile. She tipped her head and studied me, the way I'd watched her study defenses from the bench, reading the floor. It lasted long enough that I started to squirm.

"You're staring," I said.

"Yeah."

"It's rude."

"Yeah." Her thumb dragged along my lower lip. "Breathe, Harper."

I hadn't realized I'd stopped.

She kissed me, and this time it was hers. Slow, deep, absolutely without hurry, her body pressing me into the door until there was nowhere to go. When I tried to pull one wrist free, purely to see what would happen, her grip tightened, and she bit my lower lip hard enough to sting.

I moaned into her mouth.

"Keep them there," she said against my lips.

"Or what?"

She let go of my wrists. I kept them there.

Her eyes flicked up to my hands, still pressed to the door with no one holding them, and back down to my face. The corner of her mouth moved again. Satisfaction.

"Thought so."

"That was a reflex. That doesn't count."

"Mm." She rolled my nipple between her fingers, then pinched, harder than before, and held it while I gasped. "You still with me?"

"Yes."

"Good." She lowered her mouth to my neck, to the place under my ear, and bit down. Not tentative now. Her teeth set in and held, and when she let go, she soothed it with her tongue. "Tell me if you want me to stop."

"Don't stop."