Page 173 of Revv

“No.”

“Mama, this is terrible.”

“It’s my playlist, Papi.”

“Yeah, and I’m the one being forced to listen to it.”

I turn toward him. “You were the one who volunteered to drive and made me the passenger princess.”

“You controlled the radio even when I was the passenger princess.”

“Because it’s my car.”

He glances over at me while I turn the volume up another notch just to piss him off. He shakes his head, laughing under his breath, but leaves the music alone.

Smart man.

The farther Miami falls behind us, the more the car settles into this comfortable little rhythm I don’t remember us having on the way down. Revel drives, I control the music and occasionally feed him something from the bag of snacks between my feet.

We talk when we feel like it, shut up when we don’t, and somewhere along the way his hand finds my thigh again.

It stays there.

His thumb keeps moving over my thigh, slow little strokes that should be nothing and somehow are very much fucking not nothing.

I shift in the seat, crossing one leg over the other like that’ll help, then uncrossing them two seconds later because, apparently, my body has completely abandoned subtlety.

Revel notices, but he doesn’t look at me. Doesn’t grin or say some smart-ass thing that’ll make me want to smack him. He just keeps his eyes on the road and lets his fingers drift a little higher.

Bastard.

My stomach tightens immediately because he knows exactly what he’s doing.

That’s what pisses me off. Okay, also turns me on.

One second I’m perfectly capable of sitting there, listening to music and minding my business, and the next I’m staring out the window thinking about how easy it would be for him to take the next exit, find somewhere quiet and do something about the heat building between my thighs.

About how fucking long it’s been since I felt him inside me.

Since I watched that look take over his face when he had me falling apart for him, like seeing me lose control was his favorite fucking thing in the world.

Puta madre.

Now I really want him to pull over.

I reposition again and his fingers slide higher.

I bite the inside of my cheek and refuse to look at him, because the second I do, I already know I’m going to see that smug little look telling me he’s enjoying every fucking second of this.

And honestly?

At this point, I’m about three minutes away from threatening him with so much violence he has no choice but to—

A silver SUV cuts hard into our lane.

“AY, CABRÓN!”

Every filthy thought in my head disappears instantly.