Amour Amour (Aerial Ethereal #1)(124)

“It kind of was for me.”

His lips begin to rise, letting this good news sink in. He signed his two-year contract this morning. And then he lifts me, suddenly, up around his waist, kissing me. This still feels new. “Two more years,” he says lowly. He walks with me like this, kissing me down the hallway.

“Maybe more…” I cling to him, clutching his arms. “Like twelve.”

“Or forever,” he breathes, parting my lips with his tongue. I inhale into the kiss, our bodies melded together. And then he stops walking. Standing in front of the Amour show poster.

“No, keep moving,” I say.

Unfortunately, he sets me on my feet and then spins me around to the framed poster.

My face.

Technically, the side of my face, my profile, stares back at me. My lips are parted, my eyes shut like I’m dreaming, my hair pulled tight. Amour is in purple and pink colors across my cheek with the tagline: love is a circus.

And Camila said my eyebrow has never been so fierce.

I’m on most of the promotional material for Amour. All because of a quote from Daisy Calloway. One person, one famous person changed another portion of my life with just a sentence: The aerial silk act stole the show for me, dangerous and beautiful.

Luck.

This is more luck than I ever needed, and I’ll never stop being grateful for it—this dream. My dream. It’s surreal. Every day is surreal. Hold it tight, Thora James. Don’t let go.

Nikolai tilts my chin, and I stare up at those gunmetal skies, ones that I meet twice a day on stage. And afterwards, when the lights fade. In our passion.

His lips lift in a burgeoning, heartfelt smile. And he says, “Well done, myshka.”