Page 42 of Revv

Cece: Tow truck just dropped off my car.

I grin and type back.

Me: Alright. I’ll be there in a few to change the battery.

Three dots appear, then disappear and a little thumbs up emoji appears on my message.

I grab my shirt from the locker and pull it on.

Grinning, I pocket the phone and grab my keys.

Thorne catches me heading for the door. “Where you off to?”

“Cece’s car needs a battery.”

He looks toward the beach bags piled near Echo’s cart, then back at me. “Thought we were going to the beach.”

“We are.”

“After you play mechanic?”

I grin and keep walking. “Exactly.”

Behind me, Reign laughs. “One kiss and he’s already a fucking lapdog.”

“He was a lapdog long before that. Let’s be so fucking for real,” Draygon adds, heading over to Echo’s workstation and pulling her against him long enough to press a kiss to the top of her head.

I lift a hand without turning around. “First of all, it was two kisses. Second, you can all fuck off.”

The heat hits me the second I step outside.

I slide my sunglasses on and head for my bike, their laughter following me out of the garage.

Fuck what they say. If being Cece’s lapdog means showing up when she needs me, fixing her car, and letting her mouth off while I do it, then fine. I’ll wear the fucking collar.

Doesn’t mean she’s getting away with pretending last night didn’t happen though.

I swing onto the bike and start the engine, already grinning at the thought of seeing her again and watching her act like she doesn’t still feel my hands on her.

Chapter Five

Cece

Revel shows up twenty minutes after my text like he was waiting for an excuse.

I hear the bike before I see him, the low growl rolling up the street until it cuts off in front of my house.

Guacamole lifts his head from the back of the couch and looks toward the window.

“I’ll be back,” I tell him, grabbing my keys from the counter. “And I am definitely not kissing him.”

He blinks at me once, completely unimpressed.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

I head outside and pull the door shut behind me. By the time I reach the driveway, Revel is swinging off his bike beside the curb.

He plants one boot on the pavement, pulls off his gloves, then lifts his helmet free. His hair is still a little damp beneath it, pushed back messily as he hooks the helmet over the handlebar. Black swim trunks sit low on his hips, and a fitted black muscle shirt stretches across his chest and shoulders, showing off the full blackout sleeve covering his left arm.