Page 110 of Revv

“Ay, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“What?”

I step aside and point.

There’s a walk-in shower, double vanity, and tucked beneath a wide frosted window is a huge jacuzzi tub with chrome jets lining the sides.

Revel comes up beside me, takes one look, and that stupid grin starts spreading across his face.

“No.”

He side-eyes me. “Jesus. I didn’t even say anything.”

“You don’t have to. I can practically hear the bullshit loading.”

He leans against the doorway, looking the tub over again. “I was just thinking this room keeps getting better.”

“For you, maybe.”

“For us, Mama.”

“There is no us getting into that thing.”

His gaze slides back to me, slow and cocky. “You sure?”

“Very.”

“Shame. Looks roomy.”

I glance at the tub, then back at him. “Everything looks roomy until your six foot three ass, get in it.”

He laughs, pushing away from the doorway. “Guess we’ll have to test that theory.”

“By yourself.”

“We’ll see.”

“Ay, Dios mío.” I follow him back into the main room. “You’ve been here thirty seconds and you’re already making the jacuzzi sexual.”

“Mama, anything involving you and me together is sexy.”

I turn away before he catches me smiling and head farther into the room, pretending I suddenly care very deeply about where everything is going.

I move toward the big window beside the bed and pull the curtain back.

Miami stretches out below us in late-morning brightness, all blue water flashing between buildings, palms moving in the heat, and traffic crawling along the streets beneath us. Farther out, I can make out pieces of the festival setup going up—lighting rigs, banners, temporary structures slowly taking shape against the skyline.

Tomorrow.

My stomach does that stupid little flip again.

Excited.

Nervous.

Then excited that I’m nervous, which feels psychotic.

I rest my fingers against the glass and stare out a little longer, trying to picture myself up there without immediately imagining seventeen ways technology could betray me.