Chapter Fifteen
Cece
Something cold presses against my cheek.
I make a noise somewhere between a groan and a threat, roll onto my stomach, and drag the pillow over my head.
The cold thing follows me.
“Get up, Mama.”
“Whatever you’re selling, I don’t want it.”
“You want this.”
I crack one eye open beneath the pillow and find an iced coffee hovering six inches from my face.
Behind it is Revel, already showered and dressed, looking disgustingly awake for a man who kept me in this bed for most of yesterday.
I reach for the cup.
He pulls it back.
“Revel.”
“Get up.”
“Give me my coffee.”
“Technically, it’s my coffee until I give it to you.”
I shove the pillow off my face and glare at him. “You have five seconds before I bite you, and not in the fun way.”
His grin spreads immediately. “Mama, you threatening to bite me isn’t exactly motivating me to hand this over.”
“I said not in the fun way.”
“Yeah, I heard you.” His eyes drag over me. “Still willing to risk it.”
“Revel.”
He laughs and finally hands me the cup. “Fine. But that offer stands.”
I push myself upright against the headboard, wearing nothing but one of his shirts and underwear, and take a long drink while he wanders around the room collecting his wallet, sunglasses, and whatever else he, apparently, needs for the mysterious bullshit he has planned.
The coffee is exactly right.
Again.
I still hate that he knows my order, and I hate even more that I like him knowing it.
Confusing, I know.
“Why are you dressed?” I ask.
He looks down at himself. “Well, that’s usually how I leave the hotel.”
“Smart-ass. Where are you going?”
“Where are we going.”
I stop mid-sip.
There’s something in his expression I immediately don’t trust.
Revel always looks smug, but this is different. This is the face of a man who has already made a decision on my behalf and is waiting to see how long it takes me to realize I’m about to become involved in it.
“No.”
“You don’t even know what it is.”
“Exactly. If it were something normal, you would’ve told me.”
His grin gets wider. “Shorts. And that tight running jacket you have.”
I narrow my eyes. “Which one?”
“You know exactly which fucking one.” His hands gesture vaguely at his own chest. “The one that does that whole push-your-tits-up thing. Big fan.”
“Of course you are.”
“Obviously.” His eyes flick over me before he grabs his sunglasses. “And put your hair up or braid it or something.”
I take another sip of coffee. “Anything else, stylist?”
“Yeah.” He points at me on his way toward the bathroom. “Thirty minutes, Mama. Try not to spend twenty of them talking shit.”
I stare at him. “Should I be concerned that you just gave me a dress code for my own kidnapping?”
“Twenty-nine now.”
“Ay, qué pendejo.”
He laughs, catching the pillow when I throw it at him.
By the time I’m dressed and we’re on the loaner bike, I’ve guessed everything from a hike to some ridiculous obstacle course or one of those adventure parks where people voluntarily throw themselves off platforms for fun. Revel refuses to give me anything.
It isn’t until the buildings start thinning and I spot a small airfield ahead that suspicion crawls up my spine.
Then I see the sign.
SKYDIVE MIAMI.
I tap his shoulder, and his head slowly turns toward me.
“Not a fucking chance.”
His mouth twitches behind his visor.
“Absolutely fucking not. Keep driving.”
“Mama—”
“You brought me skydiving?”
“It’s better than sitting in the motel room.”
“Okay but like, we could’ve gotten jet skis again. Or food. Could’ve even just gone to the beach. Activities where my feet remain somewhere in the general vicinity of planet fucking Earth.”
He pulls into the parking lot, kills the engine and pulls his helmet off, all entirely too calm about this.
“You jumped off that cliff with Echo.”
“Into water. Water is significantly closer to the ground than the fucking clouds.”
He parks and finally looks at me. “You scared?”
My eyes narrow because this bastard knows exactly what he’s doing.
“No.”
“I don’t know, you sound a little scared.”
“Fuck you.”
“I mean, if you’re too scared, we can leave. I’ll understand.”
I climb off the back of the bike and pull my helmet off.
His laugh follows me across the parking lot.
I spend the next hour pretending I don’t regret every decision I’ve ever made.
The waiver alone is enough to make me reconsider. There are entirely too many mentions of injury and death for something people, apparently, do recreationally, and Revel signs his like he’s accepting a package.
The harness doesn’t help.
I tug at one of the straps around my thigh for the third time while the instructor is talking.
Revel catches me doing it.
“You good?”
“Fantastic. I love having my survival dependent on fucking buckles.”
He smiles, but when I reach for the strap again, the amusement fades. He steps closer and checks it, then motions the instructor back over and asks her to go through everything one more time.
I watch him give another strap a firm tug after she leaves.
“You do know you’re not actually qualified to inspect this shit, right?”
“Obviously.” He checks the buckle anyway. “But I’ve jumped enough times to know what it’s supposed to look like.”
“And you suddenly don’t trust the woman whose literal job it is?”
“Trust her just fine.” He gives the strap one last pull, then looks up at me. “Still checking the shit that’s keeping my girl attached to me fourteen thousand feet in the air.”
My stomach does something stupid at my girl.
“Not your girl.”
“Yeah, yeah, Mama.”
His eyes lift to mine, and something warm twists beneath my ribs before I can stop it.
He gives the strap one last check. “You’re good.”
“Thanks.”
“Don’t sound so shocked.”
“I’m adjusting to you occasionally being useful.”
He laughs, hooks an arm around my shoulders, and walks me toward the plane.
The second we’re strapped in and the engine kicks harder, some of my attitude starts leaking out.
The plane rattles down the runway, picking up speed while my stomach drops for no fucking reason considering we haven’t even left the ground yet. I look out the tiny window just in time to see the pavement disappear beneath us.
“Oh, fuck.”
Revel looks over, way too relaxed. “Little late to bail now, Mama.”
“Ay, shut up.”
Miami keeps getting smaller as we climb, buildings turning into blocks, roads into thin lines, the water spreading out around everything in blue and green. I make the mistake of looking down for too long and immediately decide I’ve seen enough.
Revel keeps talking beside me, mostly just to keep me from sitting there thinking about how high we’re getting.
He points out random shit below, makes comments about the plane, and somehow manages to sound like we’re on a casual Sunday drive instead of climbing toward fourteen thousand fucking feet.
Normally, I’d have several smart-ass comments ready for him.
Instead, my hand is wrapped so tightly around Revel’s, I’m probably cutting off circulation.
He looks down at our hands, then at me. “Easy, Mama. I need those fingers.”
“You have ten. Losing one or two wouldn’t kill you.”
“Yeah, except last I checked, you were pretty fucking fond of these fingers and what they can do.”
I turn my head slowly. Of course that’s where his mind goes.
His grin gets worse. “And I need all ten to ride, preferably. Missing digits makes working a clutch and brake a little more complicated.”
“Maybe losing a finger would finally make you ride like a normal fucking person.”
“Let’s not say crazy shit just because you’re nervous.”
“I am not nervous.”
Right on cue, the door opens.
The sound changes instantly.
Wind tears through the cabin, violent and fucking loud, rushing past the open doorway while sunlight floods in. One second I’m sitting inside a perfectly acceptable airplane, and the next there’s a giant fucking hole in the side of it with nothing beyond it but sky.
My stomach drops straight through the floor.
Oh.
Oh, absolutely the fuck not.
Every ounce of confidence I’ve been faking disappears as I stare at the open door and realize people are actually getting up to willingly throw themselves through it.
My grip on Revel’s hand somehow gets tighter.
“Revel.”
The joking disappears from his face the second he hears my voice. He turns toward me completely, attention locking onto mine.
“I changed my mind.”
There’s no joke this time. He leans closer, one hand coming up to my cheek so I have to look at him instead of the open door.
“Then we don’t go.”
I blink. “What?”
“If you don’t want to do it, we don’t do it. I’m not throwing you out of a plane to prove a point.”
The fact that he means it somehow makes me want to do it more.
I swallow and look toward the door again.
“Stay with me?”
His expression softens. “Whole way down.”
I take one shaky breath. “Okay. Before I regain common sense.”
His grin comes back. “That’s my girl.”
“Not your girl.”
“Terrible time to argue semantics.”
I’m still telling him to go fuck himself when we jump.
The first few seconds are complete chaos.
Wind. Sky. Noise. My stomach is somewhere above us.
My lungs lock up, panic hitting so hard I can’t catch a full breath, and Revel immediately realizes it. His voice stays in my ear, keeping my attention on him, giving me something other than the endless open space beneath us to focus on.
"Breathe for me, baby. In through your nose, out through your mouth. I’ve got you."
The harness digs into my thighs and chest, the wind screaming past us, and my stomach keeps trying to crawl up my throat. I can’t do this. I can’t—
Revel’s gloved hands move with purpose. I feel him strip off one glove, then the other, the leather peeling away so his bare fingers can work between our bodies.
His hand finds the zipper of my running jacket and tugs it down just enough to reach the waistband of my shorts.
He doesn’t hesitate. Two fingers hook into the fabric of my shorts and panties, yanking them roughly to the side, exposing my pussy to the cold rush of air and the heat of his skin.
The shock of it jolts through me like lightning.
"What the fuck are you—"