I look. Her face fills my whole vision, tear-streaked and radiant, and I settle between her thighs and push into her slowly, watching her eyes go dark and heavy as she takes me in.
No chains tonight. No board. No screen, no feather, no clever architecture between our bodies. Just her wrappedaround me and under me, her arms around my neck, her heels sliding up the backs of my legs, and I move inside her while our mouths find each other again, and we make love the way I once believed happened only to other people.
It's slow. I keep it slow. Deep, rolling, her hips rising to meet every stroke, the candles throwing our one shadow up the wall, the wedding music still floating faintly from the Big Top like the whole night is playing us a soundtrack. She cries the entire time—silent, streaming, her thumbs stroking my cheekbones while I move in her—and when I taste my own tears mixing with hers, I don't stop those either.
"I love you," I tell her, buried deep, forehead resting on hers. "Every day. Every town. For the rest of it."
"I love you." Her walls flutter around me, her breath fraying. "Rowe—I'm—stay right here, stay just like?—"
"I'm here."
She comes with my name on her mouth and her arms locked around me, holding me through it, holding me to her, and the feel of her shuddering under my whole body—skin to skin, nothing between us, nothing left between us anywhere—pulls me over with her. I spill into her with a groan I muffle against her throat, wave after wave, her hands in my hair, both of us shaking, both of us wet-faced, both of us laughing before it's even finished because there's too much in us for any one sound to carry.
After, I don't move to the far side of the bed. Instead, I gather her against me—her head on my chest, her leg thrown over mine, my arms around her—and we lie in the candlelight listening to the last songs of my brother's wedding drift across the lot. Her breath slows. Her fingers draw lazy lines through the ink over my heart.
She tilts her face up, eyes heavy, mouth curved.
"Hi," she whispers.
"Hi," I whisper back, and pull her closer, and one by one, the candles burn down while the woman I love falls asleep on my chest, her heartbeat against my ribs, her breath on my skin.
I don't dream of the Sanctum at all.
I don't dream of anything but her.
Thankyou for reading Animal Tamer! And my apologies for making you ugly cry. Also, as much as I know you love Peanut (and Pip and Squeak), note that monkeys are unfortunately not suitable pets.
Ready for the next Seven Sins Carnival book? It’s Cole’s turn, and he can’t wait! You can pre-order the eBook on Amazon.
I never miss.
Not with ablade.
Not in front of a crowd.
And never with a woman.
Not until Sloane.
She joins my act with a death wish dressed up as talent, catching knives with her bare hands like she has nothing left to lose.
I should keep my distance.
Instead, I become obsessed with every defiant look that dares me to throw harder.
Night after night, she places her life in my hands. Somewhere between the flashing steel and the roar of the crowd, danger becomes trust.
Then trust becomes hunger.
But the closer I get, the more I realize the darkness inside her already knows mine.
And once our pasts collide, neither of us is walking away.
Knife Thrower is a dark, obsessive rivals-to-lovers carnival romance featuring a reckless, lethal flirt, a knife catcher with a death wish, danger as foreplay, and violent chemistry balanced on the edge of a blade.
Before hanging out with Cole,though, you’re going to meet Colonel Gabriel Wolfe and Specialist Noah Reyes. Areyou ready for the Forbidden Forces series? My Forbidden Commander is coming this August, and you can pre-order the eBook on Amazon!
I’ve led men into hell and brought them home again.
