“Keeps the wildlife out. Slows down thieves too. We have security patrolling all night. You can break in, but you won’t be getting out the same way.”
Something about those words sends a shiver down my spine.
“Makes sense,” I murmur, fighting to keep my smile from sliding off my face. “I’m Jules, by the way.”
“Jack,” he replies, beaming. “Have fun with the boss. Let me know if you need me to break the Ferris wheel for an hour.”
I can feel a blush creep up my neck. Does everyone in this carnival know their boss is doing the nasty with the blue-haired local girl? Hopefully not the clowns.
“Bye, Jack,” I murmur as I give him a little wave.
“See you around, Jules.”
Will he? The carnival’s not in town for long. And maybe this thing between the ringmaster and me will fizzle out before that.
God, I hope not. The man plays my body like he plays the crowd: with consummate skill.
Elias’s trailer is larger and darker than the rest, all clean lines and low light, sitting at the edge of the forest like it belongs there. I take one last deep breath, then raise my hand to knock. Before my knuckles make contact, the trailer door swings open.
The ringmaster outfit is nowhere in sight. Elias is wearing a fitted black button-down shirt. The top two buttons are undone, exposing skin I want to lick, and his sleeves are rolled to mid-forearm, showing off toned muscles. Black jeans cling to his strong thighs, and I gulp at the sight of the bulge in the front.
“You look good enough to eat,” I blurt out, unthinking. Or maybe thinking out loud.
Elias’s smirk incinerates my panties—why did I even bother wearing any?
“How about you have some steak first?” he says in a voice that wraps around my ovaries. “Then I’ll gladly let you have your fill, Jewel.”
I refrain from making a joke about his meat, though I’ve kept questionable company so often that dirty humor is pretty much ingrained in me.
“Let’s see what you have, Romeo,” I tease him.
He moves to let me pass, but as I do, he grabs my armsand pulls me in for a devastating kiss. It’s over before my world tilts back to normal, and I blink at him in a daze.
“Just an appetizer,” he whispers against my lips, then smiles as he helps me find my balance.
Smug asshole.
I clear my throat.
Remember why you’re here, Jules. The story. Don’t forget about the story.
“Well, I have high expectations now,” I say in my best seductive voice. It comes out low and raspy, like I didn’t work hard to quit smoking two years ago and am back to inhaling a pack a day.
The trailer’s small, so I don’t have far to walk to get to the already-set table. I take a look around with professional—and admittedly also personal—interest.
There’s a kitchen area to the left of the entrance, surprisingly well-equipped with a stove, dishwasher, sink, cupboards, and a decent amount of counter space. Opposite the kitchen is what looks like a wardrobe. The table is booth-style, with dark leather seating on three sides. Opposite is a heater and chairs folded against the wall under the window—clearly he holds some meetings here or entertains guests. The right side of the trailer has two doors, slightly ajar. Through one, I can glimpse a bed with dark sheets, and through the other bathroom tiles. I note the storage drawers near the doors with interest—that looks like it could hold papers, documents… clues.
“It’s not much,” Elias says, pulling me back to the present. “Living in a traveling carnival demands minimalism.”
I snort. “Which is supremely ironic, seeing how utterlyun-minimalisticeverything outside is.”
“Is it the clowns? It’s the clowns, isn’t it?” Elias jokes as he reaches out to grab my jacket.
“Definitely the clowns,” I agree sagely.
Sitting at the table, watching him plate our food, it feels so normal. Like I’m a normal girl, on a normal date, with a normal guy… not a carnival ringmaster who practices erotic asphyxiation dozens of feet off the ground. And not like I’m here to uncover a salacious story. The contrast is jarring.
The steak he made is perfectly cooked, the potatoes prepared just right.
