Page 118 of Revv

Actually fucking freezes.

His eyes snap to mine, and whatever smart-ass comment was waiting on his tongue disappears.

“Say that again.”

I swallow, suddenly very aware of what I just handed him. “You heard me.”

His jaw flexes as he steps closer, crowding into my space. “Yeah, I fucking heard you. Been trying to get those words out of that stubborn mouth since I met you.”

I grab the waistband of his pants and pull him closer. “Then quit looking so pleased with yourself and do something about it.”

A rough laugh leaves him, but his eyes stay dark on mine. “Fuck, Mama. You telling me you need me might be the hottest shit you’ve ever said.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

“Too late. That shit’s living in my head forever.”

“Papi.” I grab his waistband and tug him closer. “Please.”

That wipes some of the amusement off his face. He shoves his pants down—then stops.

“Fuck. I don’t have a condom.”

“You? Seriously? With how fucking horny you are all the time, I figured you had one permanently attached to your wallet.”

“Usually do.”

“Ay, of course you fucking do.” I push back against him impatiently. “It’s fine. I’m protected, just fucking touch me.”

His eyes snap to mine. “You sure?”

“Yes, Revel. Fuck.”

The hesitation disappears immediately, replaced by a look so fucking hungry it sends another rush of heat through me.

“Fuck yes, Mama.” His hand closes around my hip, pulling me back against him. “I’ve been thinking about how good you’d feel with nothing between us. No fucking barrier, just you.”

He spins me around, bending me over the counter.

One hand presses between my shoulder blades while the other grips my thigh, hiking my leg onto the cool surface. I’m exposed beneath him, already trembling when he lines himself up.

Except this time, he doesn’t slam into me.

He eases forward slowly, deliberately, a low grunt catching in his throat.

“One inch.”

I groan, pushing back impatiently.

“Two.” Another rough sound leaves him, his grip tightening on my hip, stopping me from taking more than he gives me. “Nah, Mama. You wanted to talk shit about how many inches I was packing, remember?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sakes—”

“Three.” He groans through the word, taking his sweet fucking time, clearly enjoying the way my patience is disappearing. “Still think four is a lot?”

“Pendejo.”

He laughs low behind me, the sound breaking into another grunt. “Four.”