Page 83 of Kiss an Angel

To her surprise, Alex walked over to her, picked up the tube she’d dropped, and presented it to her as if it were a single rose. Then he dipped his head and brushed his lips across hers.

The gesture was so romantic that she was almost certain she heard a woman in the front row sigh. She would have sighed, too, if she hadn’t known he was merely playing to the crowd. Her fingers trembled as she held the tube as far away from her body as she could.

She managed to keep her composure as he cut it away, but when it came time for her to put it in her mouth, her knees once again started to shake. Slipping the tube between her lips, she closed her eyes and presented him with her profile.

The whip cracked and the end dropped off. She balled her hands into fists at her side. If she’d thought having an audience would make this any easier, she was wrong.

He cracked the whip twice more until only the stub stayed between her lips. Her mouth was so dry she couldn’t swallow.

Jack’s voice intruded, hushed and dramatic. “Ladies and gentlemen, I ask for your cooperation as Alexi attempts to make the final cut in the small paper tube being held in his young bride’s mouth. He needs absolute quiet. Remember that the lash will be passing so close to her face that the slightest miscalculation on his part could scar her for life.”

Daisy whimpered. Her fingernails dug so deeply into her palms that she was afraid she had broken the skin.

The noise exploded in her ears as the whip sliced the last of the tube from her mouth.

The crowd erupted in cheers. Daisy squeezed her eyes open and felt so dizzy she was afraid she would faint. Alex gestured toward her with his hand, giving her a cue to style. The most she could manage was a slight dip of her chin.

As she lifted her head, the tip of the bullwhip flew through the air toward her, and the crimson tissue-paper flower tucked between her breasts exploded in a shower of fragile paper petals.

She jumped back with a hiss of alarm, and the audience applauded. He made a sharp upward gesture toward her, the cue to raise her arms and cross her wrists. She numbly followed directions.

The whip cracked and the crowd gasped as the lash curled around her wrists. He waited for a moment before he released the tension. There was an indecipherable murmur coming from the seats. He frowned at her, and she remembered that she was supposed to smile. She managed to pull the ends of her mouth upward and extend her wrists so they could see that she was unhurt. As she was doing that, the whip cracked again.

She winced. Looking down, she saw the lash wrapping her calves. He hadn’t done this before, and she shot him a worried look. He released the tension and raised his eyebrow in warning. She gave the crowd another frozen smile. Once again, he gestured for her to raise her arms. With a feeling of inevitability, she did as he commanded.

Crack!

A scream slipped from her throat as the lash coiled about her waist. She waited for him to ease the tension, but this time he didn’t. Instead, he tugged on the whip, forcing her to come to him. Only when the skirt of her dress brushed his thighs did he abruptly release the tight coils and draw her into his arms for a dramatic kiss that could have graced the cover of a romance novel.

The audience cheered.

She felt dizzy and angry with him, but somehow deliriously happy all at the same time. He whistled and Misha thundered back into the arena. Releasing her only for a moment, he vaulted onto the horse from the rear as it galloped around the ring. A prickle slithered up her spine. Surely he wouldn’t—

Her feet left the ground as he dangled from the side of the horse to scoop her up into his arms. Before she knew what had happened, she was positioned across his lap.

The lights went out, plunging the arena into darkness. The applause was deafening. He loosened one of his arms while she clung frantically to his waist. Moments later, there was an explosion of sound and the great fire whip danced above their heads.

Daisy crossed the narrow asphalt road that separated the parking lot where the circus was set up from the deserted beach. Off to her left the garish lights of the Jersey Shore boardwalk blinked their colorful mayhem in the night: the Ferris wheel and zipper ride, the carousel and concessions.

Her debut had marked the circus’s first appearance in the seaside resort, and now she was too keyed up to sleep. The audience at the second show had reacted even more enthusiastically, and a wonderful sense of accomplishment cut through her fatigue. Even Brady Pepper had set aside his customary silence to offer her a frosty nod.

She breathed in the musty sea scent and stepped down into the sand, which had lost its warmth from the day and trickled coolly into her sandals. She loved being near the ocean, and she was glad that this was one of the locations where the circus would spend more than one night.

“Daisy?”

She turned to see Alex standing at the top of the steps, his tall, lean body silhouetted against the faint glow of light reflected in the night sky. The breeze shuffled through his hair and pressed his shirt to his body. “Is this a private walk, or can anybody join?”

“Are you armed?”

“The whips are all packed away for the night.”

“Then come along.” She smiled and held out her hand.

For a moment he hesitated, and she wondered if the gesture was too personal for him. It spoke volumes about their relationship when holding hands seemed more intimate than having sex. Still, she didn’t drop her arm. This was merely one more challenge for her to meet.

The soles of his work boots tapped on the wooden steps as he came down to meet her. He

took her hand, and the ridge of calluses in his palm reminded her that he was a man accustomed to hard work. His hand, warm and strong, enfolded hers.

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