Page 14

I arch a brow. “Thought you said you weren't scared?”

She huffs, gesturing wildly. “I am not scared. I just… Why does this thing have to shake like that?”

The Ferris wheel sputters to a stop, and Arya clutches my arm one last time before realizing we’ve actually survived the ordeal. Letting out a dramatic sigh, she nudges me with her elbow. “See? Told you I wasn’t scared.”

“Yeah, okay,” I squint at her. “All that gasping for breath was because of me, huh?”

She tilts her head, blue eyes widening innocently. “I'm pretty sure I had you gasping the other night.”

Shit. The memory of fucking her while I made out with her boyfriend makes my cock jump, and I have to subtly adjust myself.

A flash of bronze-inked skin catches my attention, interrupting my response. I swing my gaze over to where Christian stands watching us with his arms crossed, looking mildly pissed—but kind of turned on.

“Busted,” I mutter, jerking my chin toward him.

Arya follows my gaze and grins, hauling me off the ride as soon as the attendant unhooks the safety bar.

Bouncing up to Christian with me in tow, she presses a heated kiss to his lips, rubbing against him like a cat in heat. His eyes don’t leave mine, not even when she grabs my shirt and pulls me down for a kiss of my own, the taste of him mingling with her lip gloss.

My hands land on her waist instinctively, but she’s already pulling away, smirking at us both.

“Gotta go find Salem,” she says, stepping back. “I'll see you both after the show.”

She saunters off, ass jiggling under her dress, and we both watch her go before turning toward each other.

Christian’s hazel eyes flick to mine, the corners of his lips twitching like he’s about to say something but thinks better of it. I tilt my head, letting the silence settle between us, waiting him out.

But I’m impatient as fuck.

“What?” I finally ask, quirking a brow.

“You taking my girl on dates now?”

There’s an edge to his tone I don't like, so I slide my hands into my pockets and lick Arya's gloss from my lips. “Technically, she took me on one. Jealous?”

“Fuck, no,” he scoffs, but the irritated look on his face tells me otherwise.

“Tell you what, hot shot,” I snort, gesturing to the ring toss booth on our left. “I'll play you. Best man wins.”

He studies the game with those hazel eyes, considering. “What do I get when I win?”

When. Cocky bastard.

Leaning toward him, I lower my voice, the heat of his body warming mine. “When I win, you can suck my dick. If you win, I’ll suck yours.”

His gaze swings to mine, brows hitting his hairline. “Arya gets a monkey, and all I get is a blowjob?”

I blink, unsure of how to respond, but then a sinister smirk curls his lips. He snickers, giving me a shove. “Just playing, fool. Of course I want a blowjob. You're on.”

Holy fucking shit. I didn't think he'd actually agree.

Christian steps in front of the booth, arms crossed, grinning like he's already won. I follow suit, studying the game as my cock hardens against my thigh at the prospect of getting his lips around it.

The setup is simple: a bunch of glass bottles lined up in neat little rows, waiting for me to land a ring on one. Easy.

The carnie behind the counter—a guy who’s probably seen a thousand assholes like us over the years—takes my money, handing us a set of rings with a bored expression on his face. I pick one up, weighing it in my palm like I’m actually sizing up the physics of this shit.

Christian clicks his tongue, amused. “You’re about to embarrass yourself, dude.”