Not as expected

They moved past the ticket booths and toward the rides that spun more slowly, less popular now that the main acts were starting. The Ferris Wheel loomed at the edge of it all, a soft, deliberate pulse of colored lights rotating through the dark like a heartbeat in slow motion.

The lights washed over the gravel. Over Emily’s bare shoulders. Over the slightly wrinkled skirt that kept shifting against her thighs with every step.

She heard Tasha laugh behind them—close again now. Her voice was breathless, playful, full of something that had nothing to do with carnival rides or candied nuts.

Emily looked back and saw her friend leaning against one of the steel support beams beneath the wheel’s base. The guy she’d been dancing with had knelt in front of her. His hand was braced against her hip. Tasha’s head tipped back, her mouth parted.

The hem of her skirt was bunched in one fist.

Emily’s breath caught.

Her own guy—Cam?—paused beside her, but didn’t seem surprised. “She’s wild,” he murmured. “You’re quieter. I like that.”

He reached for her hand. Held it loosely at first, then tugged just enough to suggest closeness.

“I want you like that,” he said quietly, eyes flicking toward where Tasha now had a leg wrapped halfway around the support.

Emily couldn’t move. Not quite.

The wheel rotated above them, casting long lines of color over the ground. The beams of light twisted as the carriages turned, shadows shifting, illuminating bodies and skin and bare knees under hems too high to hide much.

Cam stepped behind her. His breath touched her neck.

“Let me make you feel good,” he said.

Emily stepped toward the ride. The lights pulsed across the gravel, painting her thighs, her calves, her calves, her back as the shadows moved.

She looked again.

Tasha’s skirt was hiked around her waist now. The guy in front of her had one hand hidden beneath it. Tasha was biting her knuckle, eyes clenched shut, chest rising fast.

Emily’s breath came faster. She didn’t mean to look. But her eyes lingered.

Then Cam pulled her gently. Just a step. A signal.

“I’ll be good,” he said. “Better than good. I’ll give you whatever you want.”

She felt his hand brush the small of her back. A light touch. Waiting.

The ride creaked above them.

She was halfway to the next support beam when she realized her silhouette—cast by the turning wheel—looked like it was already moving. Already thrusting.

Tasha’s breath caught in a moan behind her.

And Cam was stepping closer.