Chapter 6

The air on the boardwalk was thick with the scent of fried dough, stale beer, and the sharp, briny tang of the ocean, but in the back room of the carnival midway, the world had narrowed down to the sound of my own ragged breathing and the heavy, rhythmic thud of my heart against my ribs. We were tucked away in that cramped, velvet-draped alcove behind the ticket booth, a place where the shadows clung tight and the light from the string bulbs above cast a warm, golden glow over us. I was sitting on the worn leather couch, my legs spread wide, my skirt hiked up high around my waist, exposing the pale, smooth curve of my ass to the cool air. He stood before me, that massive slab of muscle and testosterone looming over my smaller frame, his shirt unbuttoned to reveal the dusting of dark hair on his chest, his eyes dark and hungry as they locked onto mine. He had been teasing me for the last hour, dragging out the anticipation until I was practically vibrating with need. The carnival games—the ring toss, the high striker, the giant teddy bears—had all faded into background noise, irrelevant