Page 157 of Revv

Revel’s grin widens as he lowers himself in front of me.

“First of all,” he says, hands settling on my thighs, “you’d look so fucking good carrying my baby.”

Just like that, the stupid fucking fantasy follows us all the way into the room.

The air in the hotel room is thick, smelling of expensive cologne and the salt of our skin.

Revel has me pinned against the mattress, his weight a crushing, welcome heat that anchors me. He’s hovering over me, his eyes dark and dilated, looking at me with an intensity that feels like it could strip the skin right off my bones.

He shifts, his hand sliding down from my throat to splay across my stomach, his palm warm and heavy.

He doesn't move it; he just lets it rest there, as if he’s already claiming the space.

"Just...stretched out and heavy with mine."

I freeze, a sharp intake of breath hitching in my chest.

I try to find my usual cocky armor, but my voice comes out breathy, betrayed by the way my pussy is currently pulsing around his fingers.

"You're fucking insane, Revel."

He doesn't laugh. He doesn't even smirk. He just leans down, pressing his forehead against mine, his breath hot on my lips.

"I am. I'm completely fucked for even thinking about it. The thought of a little version of you...a little brat with your eyes and my temper...it makes me so hard I can barely breathe."

I’m flushed, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs.

I want to tell him it’s just a fantasy, a game we're playing to spice things up, but the raw hunger in his gaze tells me he’s not playing.

He’s staring at my belly like it’s the only thing in the world that matters.

“Fantasy, Revel,” I whisper, though I’m arching my hips instinctively, the friction of my leather mini skirt against my skin suddenly feeling like too much and not enough all at once. “It’s just a fucking fantasy.”

“Not for me,” he growls.

Whatever playfulness was left in him disappears.

Revel crowds over me, forcing me deeper into the mattress as his gaze drags down my body. My leather skirt is already shoved high on my thighs, bralette barely staying where it belongs, and the way he looks at me makes my pulse kick harder.

His fingers hook into the waistband of my panties.

One hard tug sends them down my legs and across the room.

But he doesn’t reach for his cock.

Instead, his hands slide beneath my thighs and spread me wider, pushing my knees back as his attention drops between them.

I swear I can feel that stare.

“Fuck, Mama.” His voice comes out rough.

He doesn’t rush it.

I’m perched on the edge of the bed when his hand closes around my throat, holding me exactly where he wants me. His other hand comes up between us, two fingers brushing across my bottom lip.

“Open.”

My eyes stay on his as I do.