Page 3 of Revv

I lift my drink to my lips, taking my sweet fucking time while I look him over from head to toe. When my eyes make it back to his, I cock one hip and tip my head, giving him the same unimpressed look I give every man who thinks a pretty smile is enough to get somewhere with me.

“You better be packing more than cheesy pickup lines, papi.” My mouth curves slightly. “Because I don’t do talkers. I do finishers, and I always look good.”

His grin spreads like that answer just made things worse for him in the best way.

“Oh, I know you do.” His eyes dip again, shameless and hot, lingering on my legs before sliding back to my face. “But tonight? Fuck. So fucking good.”

My fingers tighten around my cup enough that I notice.

Hopefully not enough that he does.

But of course he does, because his smile turns even more pleased, like every tiny reaction—I don’t mean to give him—is something he plans to collect.

I lower my cup and let my gaze drag over him right back. Six-foot-three of cocky biker stands in front of me like confidence is a contact sport, and Dios mío, I hate that it works.

“Careful,” I say, tilting my head. “You’re starting to sound obsessed.”

His laugh is low and immediate, like I said exactly what he wanted me to say.

“Starting?” He leans closer, not enough to touch me, just enough that I catch the heat coming off him and the clean leather smell under the gasoline. “Mama, I’ve been obsessed with you since I first laid eyes on you. Pretty sure everybody here knows it. Including you.”

I scoff, because honestly that’s safer than smiling.

“Okay well, I’m not interested so go obsess over someone else.”

He laughs again, softer this time, eyes locked on mine like he can see right through the attitude and likes what’s underneath even more.

“Yeah, okay.” His gaze flicks to my mouth, then back up. “You say that, but we both know that’s not what you want.”

My pulse jumps which is annoying.

I lift my brows and give him my sweetest look, the one that usually makes men either back up off me in fear or make bad choices.

“You think you know what I want?”

“No.” His grin turns slow, dirty, and way too sure of itself. “But I’m dying to find out.”

For a second, neither of us moves.

The music thumps behind him. Echo says something from the workbench to Lena who’s across the lot, but I don’t catch it. All I’m aware of is him standing too close, me refusing to step back, and the fact his eyes keep dropping to my mouth like he’s already decided how this ends.

Puta madre.

He’s going to be a problem.

I take another sip of my drink, acting like I’m calm, then drop my eyes back to my phone. “Yeah well, keep dying, pretty boy.”

Revel laughs under his breath, low and pleased, like me shutting him down only made him more entertained, which is exactly why I refuse to give him anything else. I’m not intimidated by him. I’m not flustered either. I’m simply choosing not to feed wild animals. Especially six-foot-three ones with motorcycles and dangerously pretty mouths I’d like to feel—

Nope.

No, pendeja. Not going there.

“Cece,” Echo calls playfully from the bench.

I don’t even have to look to know she’s smiling, but I look anyway.

Echo is watching me with one brow lifted, boots still swinging, wearing that expression she gets right before she makes somebody’s business her personal entertainment and tonight it seems she’s chosen mine..