Page 100 of Key of Kink

Such a little distance that separated us.

I imagined the simple act of reaching down, my fingers slipping over the edge of the bed, the brush of knuckles against his hair, the weight of my palm settling at the back of his neck.

He’d lean into it. I knew that instinctively. Not because he needed to, but because he wanted to.

I curled my fingers into the sheet instead.

This is how it starts. With small allowances, hands reaching in the dark.

Below me, he shifted again, and his quiet exhale filled the air.

He’s close enough to touch.

He was also close enough to change my rules.

I leaned over the edge of the mattress, far enough that my fingertips hovered in the space above him. I could feel the heat of his body even without contact.

God.

One inch more was all it would take.

A soft sound escaped him. I could almost feel the texture of his hair without touching it. And I froze.

Touch him, and this isn’t about control. It would be about comfort.

That was how walls fell.

Slowly, deliberately, I drew my hand back onto the mattress, and lay still again, staring into the dark. Quinn’s breathing steadied. I had no way of knowing whether he’d felt the shift in the air or not. But I had.

The urge hadn’t passed. It had only been postponed.

This is getting dangerous.

Chapter Sixteen

Max

I opened my eyes and glanced at the clock. 5:55 a.m. The room was pale with early light, as though the day hadn’t yet made up its mind what it was going to do.

The room was also way too quiet.

I rolled onto my side and peered over the edge of the bed.

The rug was empty. The blankets had been folded neatly, the pillow stacked on top.

No Quinn.

Something flickered through me, and I wasn’t sure if it was disappointment or relief. Then I heard the kettle doing its annoying beep before being hastily switched off.

I closed my eyes.

He didn’t leave.

I lay there, listening to the quiet domestic sounds filtering down the hallway: cupboards opening, the faint clink of ceramic on Niall’s marble worktops. No rush, no clatter, just calm.

He’s doing it again. That ‘moving through my flat as if he belongs there’ thing.

The thought didn’t unsettle me.