“I know what you’re going to say.” She pulls back, her arms resting on my shoulders. “We have to be safe and take things slowly. I will, I promise.”
“You bet we will,” I say, trying not to think about how her arms are looped around my neck and her face is tilted up to mine. “And you need to hold me accountable if I screw up. That’s what partners do.” My hands tighten on her waist for a moment, and then I let her go and step back. “Practice tonight in the big top, after the show?”
She nods, grinning, her eyes sparkling brighter than they ever have before. I walk backwards a few steps, drinking her in. Maybe it’s wrong and dangerous, but right now my wildly beating heart is telling me that this is the most wonderful thing that’s ever happened to me.
Hours later, after the show, I’m in my black shirtsleeves standing under the stage lights. Ryah’s still got her performance makeup on, but she’s put on a plain leotard and tights.
I cast my eyes over her petite body. I have to look at her so I can be sure I aim accurately, but in the back of my mind I’m aware that there’s something very enjoyable about looking at Ryah. Her slender waist. The plushness of her breasts. Her defined legs. I feel it again, that luscious intimacy between us. This time, I don’t even try push it away. For these few minutes I can dive into it and live there. The more intensely I focus on Ryah, the easier I can keep her safe.
“Ready?” I call.
Ryah smiles at me, and I pull my arm back and take aim at her heart.
Chapter Eleven
Ryah
Cale moves his hand an inch to one side, and throws. The knife bites into the wood, sending vibrations across my back. It’s pleasurable, being in his power like this. No, it’s heavenly. The whole world drops away until there’s just his warm, brown eyes filling my vision, and his fierce focus like a delicious pressure on my body.
As he approaches me to pull the knives out of the wood, I stay where I am, arms spread. His strong hands grip the hilts one by one and he pushes the knives back into the holster. It wouldn’t take much to grab hold of the front of his shirt and pull him closer. Feel his lips against mine. Pull myself up against his body and have him press me into the wood. Chest to chest. Hip to hip. My thighs clamped around him. My flesh hungering for something I’ve never even known.
As he grasps the hilt of the knife by my waist, a little panting sound escapes my lips. He pauses, his gaze swinging to mine.
“Again?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
The knife comes out of the wood with a soft chunk. Cale stays where he is. The seconds become liquid and flow like honey.
“Are you sure?”
I suck my lower lip into my mouth and nod, my gaze holding his. I don’t even think he’s asking for reassurance. I think he likes it here so close to me, our whispers merging beneath the spotlight.
He turns slowly, and I watch the muscles of his back moving beneath his shirt as he walks back to his place. I squeeze my thighs together, reminding myself to concentrate on not moving. I can’t risk him getting scared and putting an end to the most intriguing and wonderful experience of my life.
We keep practicing. As before, the sixth knife comes out of the holster, and he puts it back.
Then we go again.
Finally, we call it a night. When I get back to the wagon I share with Elke and Anouk, they’re fast asleep and I have to get into my nightshirt in the dark as quietly as I can.
When I’m beneath the blankets, I slide my hand down between my legs to check what I’ve suspected all evening. Inside my underwear I’m wet and slippery, and so over-sensitized that I have to clamp a hand over my mouth at the sudden blaze of sensation my finger causes.
I shouldn’t do it. It’s wrong on so many levels, but my finger swirls as I keep my other hand over my mouth. I close my eyes and think longingly of Cale, and the privacy of his wagon. His strong hands in the dark, and that gaze of his, always keeping me safe. All it takes is thinking about my hands sliding over his bare, muscular chest and his fingers doing what mine are doing while he kisses me feverishly, and the achingly sweet sensations suddenly coalesce in a blinding explosion that leaves me panting in the dark.
Eyes wide, my body limp, I stare at the painted wall and wonder how you get to that place with someone, where they’re touching you and kissing you and making you feel like you’re full of shooting stars.
Of sparkles.
I pull my finger out of my underwear and trace patterns in the wood, wondering how I might get to that place with Cale.
“Cale, I’ve been thinking about costumes.”
I sit down next to him on the grass and he turns to me with a smile. What a difference a week of practice has made. Every day I’ve been searching for signs that his reticence has been return
ing, but his enthusiasm for our act has only grown. When we face each other across the arena, my back against the board and his knives in his hands, there’s only intensity burning in his eyes.
“I was thinking we should match somehow,” I continue. “You don’t have time to change clothes, but what about a different colored jacket? One that matches my costume.”