Page 120 of Revv

Chapter Twelve

Cece

By the time I come back out of the bathroom, the steam has finally started clearing and Revel has, somehow, managed to make himself completely at home.

He’s stretched across the king bed with one arm behind his head, shirtless, gray sweatpants sitting low on his hips, remote in one hand while some action movie plays across the TV.

The takeout containers are pushed off to the side, my equipment is still charging where I left it, and the man looks way too comfortable for somebody who has, technically, been in this room less than a day.

I stop beside the bed and look at him.

He glances over. “What?”

“You look way too comfortable over there. Like you’ve already moved in.”

“I mean…” His eyes slide over to me. “If you’re part of the deal, I could get used to it.”

“That was not an invitation to start imagining our weird little Miami life together.”

His mouth curves. “Too late, Mama.”

I climb onto the other side of the bed and pull the blanket over my legs, trying very hard not to acknowledge the fact that I’m wearing the shirt I peeled off him right before we fucked.

Not because I wanted to.

Mine was just, uncomfortable.

That’s my story. It’s a good story. Nobody asked him.

Revel notices immediately anyway, because apparently the man has fucking radar when it comes to anything he can use against me. His eyes drop to the black shirt hanging loose around my thighs, linger there long enough to be annoying, then slowly come back to my face.

“Is that my shirt?”

I keep my attention firmly on the TV. “Looks better on me.”

“Fuck yeah, it does.”

I can hear the grin in his voice without even looking.

“Don’t make it weird.”

“Mama, we just fucked in a hotel bathroom and now you’re curled up in bed wearing my clothes.” He settles deeper into the pillows like he’s never been happier with his life. “I’m not making shit weird. I’m fucking thriving.”

I finally glance over. “You’re so easy to please.”

His grin turns downright smug. “Apparently, all it takes is hot bathroom sex and you stealing my shit. Who knew?”

“I didn’t steal it.”

“Keep it. Like you said, Mama, looks better on you anyway.”

I roll my eyes and turn back to the TV before he sees the stupid little smile trying to pull at my mouth.

Ay, cállate.

The asshole isn’t even talking anymore, and somehow I still need him to shut up.

We settle into the movie, and for a while, it’s weirdly easy.