Chapter Fifteen #3
Well.
Apparently we’re doing this.
Revel’s hand settles at the small of my back as we head up the stairs, and the bouncer steps aside without a word. The bass is a little duller up here, still heavy enough to shake the glass in our hands but far enough from the dance floor that people can actually hear each other.
Ajax meets us near the booth first.
“St. Clair.”
“Sawyer.”
There’s still an edge there, but it’s controlled. No puffed chests, no stupid macho bullshit.
Revel’s hand slides from my back to my hip as he looks between them.
“This is Cece. My girl.”
The words catch me for half a second.
My girl.
Normally, I’d correct him before the sentence even finished leaving his mouth, but I don’t know these guys, and, technically, I did tell him to make it clear who I came here with.
So I let it go.
That’s the only reason.
Definitely has nothing to do with the annoying little flicker of warmth the words send through me.
Dimitri’s eyes flick to me, then back to Revel, one brow lifting. “Tvoya devushka?” His Russian accent curls heavier around the words before his mouth twitches. “Interesting.”
Revel’s hand settles a little more firmly at my hip as Ajax gestures toward the booth.
“Sit. Let’s get you a drink.”
Revel guides me toward it with his hand still on my hip, and this time, I don’t give him shit for that either.
Apparently, I’m feeling generous tonight.
Ajax slides into the seat across from us while Dimitri drops down beside him, one arm stretching across the back of the booth like he’s already settling in for whatever shit is about to happen. Revel sits beside me, close enough that his thigh presses against mine beneath the table.
For a few seconds, it’s almost weirdly normal.
Then Ajax leans forward, forearms braced on his knees.
“Look, before this turns into more bullshit, I owe you an apology.”
That gets Revel’s full attention.
Ajax rubs a hand over the back of his neck, jaw tightening before he finally says it.
“My girlfriend was cheating on me. Left me for the guy, then left our daughter with me too.” He gives a humorless laugh and looks down at his drink.
“So yeah, between the travel, training, races, all the other shit that comes with this life, I’m figuring out how to be a single dad while also figuring out how not to lose my fucking mind over being cheated on. ”
Dimitri makes an offended sound beside him. “Single dad? Da nu. What am I, a fucking decoration?”
Ajax looks over. “You know what I mean.”
“No, I do not. Team helps. I help. You are not abandoned in a forest with a child.”
That pulls the smallest laugh out of Ajax.
“Fine. Mostly single dad.”
Dimitri lifts his drink. “Better.”
Ajax shakes his head, then looks back at Revel. “Either way, I was pissed at everything and rode like it. None of that was your problem, but I made it your problem on the track.”
“Nah, you’re good. Honestly. I wasn’t exactly innocent either.” He shifts forward, elbows resting on his thighs. “I forced that pass. There was barely a fucking gap and I knew it, but I’d already committed in my head, so I went for it anyway. Could’ve taken us both out.”
Ajax holds his gaze for a beat.
“Yeah.”
Dimitri takes a slow sip of his drink and looks between them. “Khorosho. Two idiots finally admit they were idiots. Miracles happen.”
I snort before I can stop myself.
Revel glances over at me. “You enjoying this?”
“A little.”
Ajax actually laughs, and just like that, some of the tension finally breaks.
He is quieter than I expected, while Dimitri has, apparently, made sarcasm his primary language. Revel relaxes beside me, one hand still resting casually on my thigh beneath the table while they talk racing.
Then Ajax checks his phone and his entire face changes.
I notice immediately.
“Your kid?”
He nods and turns the screen toward me and I melt. The little girl is sitting on a tiny electric motorcycle wearing oversized sunglasses and a helmet that looks almost as big as she is.
“Oh my God. Look at her.”
Ajax laughs. “She knows she’s cute. That’s the problem.”
“Aw, she looks like trouble.”
“She is.”
He swipes to another picture, this one of her absolutely covered in ice cream.
I’m laughing when I realize Revel has gone quiet.
He’s watching me.
Not with his usual filthy grin either.
Something else.
“What?”
He blinks. “Nothing.”
“Bullshit.”
His mouth curves. “Later.”
I narrow my eyes.
Whatever just happened inside his head is absolutely going to become my problem.
****
We’re standing outside the club later, waiting for our ride, when I finally turn on him.
“Okay. What was the look?”
“What look?”
“The one you gave me when Ajax showed me his daughter.”
His mouth starts to twitch.
Immediately, I know I’m going to regret asking.
“Revel.”
He rubs a hand over his jaw, eyes moving over me like he’s deciding how much of whatever fucked-up thought was in his head he should actually admit.
Apparently, all of it.
“I was thinking about our little girl.”
I stare at him. “Our fucking what?”
He laughs, but there’s something different underneath it. “Just hear me out, Mama.”
“No, I feel like that sentence alone was enough.”
“Too late.” He steps closer. “I saw you looking at that picture, getting all soft over her, and suddenly I’m thinking about this tiny little version of you running around. All fucking fire and attitude, probably mean as shit to me just like her mom.”
“My imaginary daughter is already bullying you?”
“Hundred percent. She’s yours.” His grin flashes. “Little lavender helmet, tiny race suit, telling me I’m doing everything wrong while you stand behind her looking proud as fuck.”
I bite the inside of my cheek because the image is dangerously cute and I refuse to give him that.
Then his eyes drop over me, lingering at my stomach.
The grin fades.
“And then my brain got stuck on you.”
Something about his tone makes heat pool low in my belly.
“Me how?”
“Pregnant.” His hand finds my waist, thumb dragging slowly over the bare skin above my skirt. “Fuck, Cece. You with that attitude and a swollen belly carrying our kid?” His eyes lift back to mine. “You’d be so fucking hot.”
“Jesús Cristo.”
“I know.”
“No, I don’t think you do.”
“Oh, I do.” He pulls me closer, gaze still fixed on me. “That’s why I was looking at you like that. I went from Ajax showing us one cute picture to imagining our daughter and wondering what you’d look like carrying her in about thirty fucking seconds.”
“You mentally built us an entire child.”
He shrugs like he didn’t just make this infinitely worse. “Not the first time, Mama. Just the first time I let you know about it.”
“Ay, Dios mío. How long has this shit been happening in your head?”
“Long enough to know she’d have your attitude and me wrapped around her finger before she could fucking walk.”
My face heats all over again.
“And you just kept that to yourself?”
He grins. “Had a feeling telling you I’d already pictured you pregnant with my kid might scare you off.”
“You think?”
“Yeah.” His hand spreads over my waist, thumb brushing slowly across my skin. “But now that you like me, and actually admit it, you’re harder to get rid of.”
“You’re insane.”
My face is burning now, which would be significantly less embarrassing if Revel weren’t watching every second of it.
His mouth curves. “Just admit you kinda like the idea.”
“I absolutely did not say that.”
“Didn’t have to, Mama.”
I shove lightly at his chest, but his arm stays around my waist.
“Ay, cállate.”
He laughs and kisses my temple like he didn’t just casually drop a fucking grenade into my brain.
Except now it’s there.
A little girl with my attitude.
His grin.
Both of us.
Nope.
Absolutely fucking not.
I am not thinking about this.
Especially not the part where, for one terrifying second, I kind of fucking liked it.
He catches my wrist, laughing, and pulls me back against him.
“Can’t help where my brain goes, Mama.”
“Your brain needs professional supervision.”
“Probably.”
Our ride pulls up before he can make it worse, and I’m grateful for the interruption because my face is still too fucking warm.
The entire drive back to the motel, Revel’s hand stays on my thigh.
Not doing anything. Just there.
Which is somehow worse.
Every time I look over, he’s wearing that smug little smile like he knows exactly what he dropped into my head outside the club and plans on letting it marinate.
Asshole.
By the time we make it upstairs, I’ve almost convinced myself I’m over it.
Then the motel-room door shuts behind us.
Revel tosses the key onto the dresser and turns toward me. “So.”
“No.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were about to.”
“Was gonna ask if you’re still thinking about our imaginary kid.”
I kick off one heel and glare at him. “I’m thinking about having you evaluated.”
He laughs, stepping closer while I work the other heel off. “Still thinking about it, though.”
“Revel.”
His hands find my waist, pulling me into him. The joking is still there, but his eyes have gone darker.
“Tell me to drop it and I will.”
I should.
Instead, I look up at him. “You really wanna keep going with this?”
“Fuck yeah, I do.”
Of course he does.
I lift my chin. “Fine. It’s fantasy. We’re playing. That’s it.”
His grin spreads slowly. “Yeah, Mama. Just playing.”
He walks me backward toward the bed, gaze dragging over me like he’s already imagining everything he told me outside.
My ass hits the mattress.
“You want me to lean into it?” he asks.
I hold his stare even though my pulse is already picking up. “Go ahead, big shot. Sell me on it.”
Revel’s grin widens as he lowers himself in front of me.
“First of all,” he says, hands settling on my thighs, “you’d look so fucking good carrying my baby.”
Just like that, the stupid fucking fantasy follows us all the way into the room.
The air in the hotel room is thick, smelling of expensive cologne and the salt of our skin.
Revel has me pinned against the mattress, his weight a crushing, welcome heat that anchors me. He’s hovering over me, his eyes dark and dilated, looking at me with an intensity that feels like it could strip the skin right off my bones.