Page 125 of Revv

Within the first thirty seconds of being behind the booth, all the nervous bullshit from the hotel has burned off.

This is the part I know.

The stage is hot beneath my boots, lights cutting through the haze above the crowd in flashes of red, violet, and white while bass pounds hard enough to vibrate through my ribs. There are bodies everywhere, packed together beneath me, hands in the air as the beat builds. Every time I pull it back, they wait.

Every time I give it to them again, the whole fucking place explodes.

God, I love this.

I’m halfway through a transition when a familiar hand slides around my waist.

Revel.

He’s been hanging off to the side for most of my set, giving me space to work, but apparently, his self-control has officially expired. He comes up behind me, moving with the music, his chest brushing my back as he leans close enough that his mouth is right beside my ear.

“Fuck, Mama.”

I keep my eyes on the controls, but my smile gives me away.

“What?”

“Nothing.” His hand settles against my hip. “Just enjoying the show.”

“The show is out there.”

“Nah.” His gaze drags over me before his mouth brushes close to my ear again. “Best view’s back here.”

Of course it is.

I shake my head and reach for the next control, trying to concentrate while he moves behind me like he has absolutely no interest in making that easy. His body stays close, following mine with the beat, one hand loose at my waist while the other braces against the edge of the booth.

The crowd can see us.

That should probably make me tell him to back the fuck up.

Instead, I lean into him.

His fingers tighten slightly against my hip.

“Careful, Mama.”

I glance back over my shoulder. “Thought you could handle me.”

His grin flashes beneath the stage lights. “Never said I couldn’t.”

I turn back before he gets any more pleased with himself, bringing the next track in as the lights sweep over the crowd. Revel stays behind me, dancing against me just enough to make concentrating a hell of a lot harder than it was five minutes ago.

Then I reach for my headphones and knock one of the small adapters sitting beside the mixer.

“Fuck.”

It bounces once against the edge of the booth and disappears underneath.

“I got it,” Revel says.

He drops down behind me before I can stop him.

I keep working, cueing the next track while he reaches beneath the equipment. A few seconds pass.