Page 128 of Revv

His hand slides up, his fingers curling around my chin, turning my face back toward him, and then his mouth is on mine.

The second I taste myself on his lips, any chance I had of getting my shit together disappears.

Holy fuck.

I kiss him harder before I can think better of it, one hand still working the decks while he keeps me pulled against him, his other hand firm around my waist. Lights flash across my closed eyes, bass pounds through both of us, and somewhere beyond the booth the crowd screams as the next track drops.

When he finally lets me breathe, I turn back toward the decks with a grin I couldn’t hide if I fucking tried.

Fuck it.

If this is what playing Sol Fuego is like, they’re never getting rid of me.

Chapter Thirteen

Revel

The morning starts with some fucking bullshit.

Cece isn’t in bed.

I reach across the mattress, finding nothing but cold sheets where she’s supposed to be, and crack one eye open.

The fuck?

Just because it’s Sunday doesn’t mean she gets to skip out on her community service. I’m pretty sure keeping me satisfied was part of the court-ordered arrangement she made up to justify sleeping with me in the first place.

I roll onto my back and scrub a hand over my face.

Unbelievable.

She spends half the night wrapped around me, stealing my body heat, hogging my pillow and slowly taking over my side of the bed, then fucks off before I wake up.

Rude as shit.

Feels a lot like a dine-and-dash, and after the fucking five-star service I provided last night, I deserve better than this.

The lock clicks before I can decide how much shit I’m giving her for abandoning her civic duties.

Cece backs into the room carrying a drink tray and a paper bag against her hip. Her hair is twisted up in a messy knot, sunglasses pushed onto her head, and she’s wearing one of my shirts again like this has suddenly become a normal thing.

I sit up against the headboard and look her over. “Well, shit. Breakfast and my shirt? Careful, you’re getting dangerously domestic.”

She gives me a flat look as she sets everything down. “I got us breakfast because if I came back with one burrito, you’d eat half of mine and somehow convince yourself you were helping.”

“I would be helping. Portion control.”

“Touch my food and lose a finger.”

“See, this is why we work. Communication.”

She hands me my coffee, and I take a sip before looking over at her. Exactly how I order it. Not surprising—Cece knows me. We’ve been around each other long enough for that. Still, there’s something about her walking back into the room wearing my shirt with breakfast and my coffee that hits different this morning.

“Fuck, Mama.” I settle back against the headboard, taking her in. “This is a hell of a way to wake up.”

“Because I brought you food?”

“Food, coffee, you walking around in my shirt.” I grin. “Whole fucking package.”