Freakshow

Chapter Twelve

We ended up searching until the light came up and everyone who'd joined in was out of places to look. It had been quite an effort, over a hundred performers and staff had joined in but it had proven futile.

I was exhausted by the time we reached our trailer, but Rose was even worse. She had cried almost continuously, her guilt overshadowing everything else. She limped up the stairs into our space, and I turned back to Cairo. "I'm going to get some sleep, I have to meet your father at ten."

"I'm not going to leave you like this," he said and followed me inside.

"I don't think I can–"

"I don't mean sex," he said in a gruff tone. "I mean I don't want to leave you alone. I need to know you're safe right now."

"Okay," I said and watched him kick off his shoes and shrug out of his jacket. I stood on my tippy toes to kiss him when he was done.

How quickly our evening had changed. We'd gone from passion to fear, the best night of my life to the worst. It wasn't anybody's fault, but I could tell neither one of us seemed up to the task of picking up where we had left off.

I took his hand and led him to my little room, we stripped and climbed into bed, our bodies folded perfectly together, and good to his word, we just slept.

A short time before I was supposed to wake, I moved against something in my bed and it startled me. I quickly realized it was Cairo, he was holding me in his arms and breathing deeply against the back of my neck. I relaxed and closed my eyes, took hold of his muscular forearm and fell back asleep like that. Safe in his embrace.

I woke again and he was up, sitting on the side of the bed texting somebody like mad. I rolled over, reached out and rubbed his smooth back. In the daylight I got a good look at the intricate, bright tattoos covering most of his body. There were beautiful detailed drawings of birds, a peacock feather up one shoulder blade, and a large crest done on his back. The crest looked like a phoenix and I loved the detail.

"Good morning, beautiful girl," he said and turned around. He set the phone on my night stand and slid back in under the blankets. I had to smile at how clunky and outdated it was, he had claimed the phone was vintage and funky though.

"Who were you texting?" I asked, "Any news on Cara?"

He tucked my hair behind my ear and said, "I'm sorry, nothing yet. And it was my father, he's expecting you. I told him you may be a little late considering you were looking for your friend all night."

"Oh shit, what time is it? I have to meet him at ten."

"You have until noon, and it's ten thirty. I bought you an extra couple hours."

"Oh," I said and reached down to rest my hand on the ripple of muscles on his lower abdomen, "what are we going to do?"

He closed his eyes for a moment, opened them and said, "Fuck, I know what I want to do. But we can't. I won't."

"Why not?" I asked, a little offended by his perceived rejection.

"I want to take my time with you," he said and kissed me. He broke away and continued, "The first time I fuck you, Liv, I want to have hours with your gorgeous pussy. I want to kiss, and talk, and slide myself inside of you when I can take it slow. It's all too strange, right now, with Cara being gone. I can wait until the time is right, can you?"

I was a little taken aback, searched his words and his face for his rejection, and found none. His sincerity was achingly poignant. His need to love me, not just fuck me, was apparent in his simple declaration that he wanted more from me than just a casual fuck.