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“And don’t text me about this.”

I tilt my head. “So you want me to text you about something else?”

Her mouth opens and closes as her glare gets hotter. “Goodnight.”

“Night, Mama.”

She flips me off before disappearing inside.

The door shuts, and I stand there beside my bike with my mouth still tingling and my hands still remembering exactly how she felt.

Never happened.

Sure.

She can lie to herself all she wants.

I’ll remember enough for both of us.

Chapter Three

Cece

I wake up still wearing Revel’s hoodie, with Guacamole plastered to my side like a naked little heating pad with abandonment issues. One wrinkly paw shoved into my ribs and his judgmental demon face way too close to mine.

The second I open my eyes, he blinks.

Slow.

Accusing.

“Oh, don’t start,” I mumble, voice rough from sleep. “You don’t know anything.”

Guacamole blinks again.

I roll onto my back and drag the blanket over my face. “Nothing happened.”

He makes a tiny offended noise.

“Okay, rude.” I peek out at him. “One thing happened. Maybe two things. Depending on how technical you want to get.”

He steps onto my chest like my shame is his throne, all warm, bony feet and unnecessary attitude.

“Ow. Guac.” I huff, grabbing him under his little armpits and moving him slightly to the side. “You’re not my priest. Stop judging me.”

He settles right back against me, purring like an evil little engine.

I stare at the ceiling.

My brain—because it hates me—immediately replays Revel’s hands on my waist. His mouth on mine. The way he lifted me onto his bike like I weighed nothing. The way his lips dragged to my throat. The way I kissed him first.

First.

Like some desperate woman with no survival instincts and a thing for bad decisions with an addiction to danger.

I groan and press both hands over my face. “I’m never speaking to a man again.”

Guacamole yawns.