I honestly fade out from what happens next. The image of my girl on her back, in my bed, surrounded by money, her legs drawn over my shoulders and my hands anchoring her hips… Oh, fuck. My tongue. My mouth. Just going wherever it wants.
“Yep!” With the glaze still on my eyes, I’m shoving the screen door out of my way and dragging Bunny behind me. “You’re a fuckin’ star, baby. We’re gonna show the world.”
“Razorrr,” she whines.
A bit too identical to how she sounds when I’m making her a wet fucking mess.
It really doesn’t take anything for her to turn me on, but the little whimpers mixed with her scamper tight to my side down the porch stairs… Everything just—phew, desperation is beating the fuck out of my nerve endings.
Now I’m thinking about fucking her raw on a bed of cash.
Actual cash. NotCash.
Ugh, God. I’ve made myself sick. My stomach’s knotting and my upper lip’s curling from the invasive image.
“Razorrr,” she whines again.
Slowing my fast steps, I sink away the disgust and flick down to the water rising in her eyes, the physical toll of angst washing away the color from her face. “Baby,” I croon, shifting around to drop to my knees in front of her. “What are you so afraid of?”
Swallowing hard, tears slip over her waterlines, and she bounces her leg with a quivering frown. “I can’t do it.”
I don’t give two shits about the performance. Money? That’d be nice. That’s what we need. But we can get it another way.
The worry that’s tightening my ribs and softening my eyes is for her.
I just want to see her shine. I want her to be confidently gentle with brave shoulders, for her to smile and cry and feel everything she feels without it deteriorating her.
He did this to her. He fucking…
I’ve said too much to you.
“You can’t or you won’t?” I ask her.
Using the hand I’m not holding on to, she wipes her cheeks and looks away, the pace of her leg slowly drawing back from the edge of causing an earthquake. “I can. And I will.”
Pride slashes a smile on my face. “That’s my girl.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
BUNNY
Okay, okay, it’s okay. Just don’t look. Keep walking. Follow his feet.
Keeping my eyes down cast at Razor’s black boots, the shakes vibrate me behind him, following his guide into the Globe of Death.
The name sure does feel like a sadistic joke right now.
My nerves are shot. They’re buzzing, causing jolts that make my movement into the meshed steel twitchy and mechanical. I take in heavy drags of air, trying to pacify the cage around my lungs. But as I step up to my silks hanging in the center, my eyes pan up and the blur clears—and all the loud sounds of clapping, whistling, and screaming from the daunting crowd and the rides rushing in the background slam into my ears.
I don’t have time anymore.
Razor gave me an extra hour to stretch and practice in my tent. He gave me the chance to build a bridge and get over it like a big girl.
But my pulsing cheeks are crammed against my mask that feels like it’s starting to eat through my skull.
“Just think, Bun,-” Xene dazzles the dark bleachers with a smile, wafting up a lazy finger toward the rows we’re facing “-we’re gonna be shredding rubber around you. No one’s gonna be paying close enough attention if you need to take it slow.”
Cash stops his bike behind me, offering a supportive touch on my shoulder.
