With a sigh, his brow furrows, lines forming at the outer corners. “Where’d that performance come from tonight?”
I flush, my heart fluttering beneath my ribs. “You mean my song choice?”
His nearness overwhelms. “Yeah.”
Turbulence jolts the plane, vibrating our seats, but his eyes are intent on mine. My heart beats a little different, too hard, too fast, my unease searching for safety it won’t find with the one next to me. “I wanted them to see that there’s more to me than the songs I’ve been singing.”
“The greatest pleasure in life is doing what people say you can’t.”
“You’re absolutely right.” I swallow over my surfacing anxiety. “Did I. . . I mean, what did you think?” Ugh. I want to take back the words immediately. I shouldn’t have asked him that.
His steady hard exterior falters for a second, softness to his eyes, but he recovers quickly. He gives a steady look, lashes dark and unblinking. “You made an impression.”
Why is he so pretty? I can’t tell if that’s a good thing or not, but then I ask quite possibly the worse question. If worse than his thoughts on my performance. Wait for it.
“What was your dreamreallyabout?” I’m an idiot. Clearly.
His smirk lifts the corners of his lips. It’s adorable and I want to reach out and touch his jaw just to see what his scruff feels like against my palm. “Don’t remember, but it involved whip cream and champagne.”
I know enough about Revel that I understand his games. The ones he likes to play called lets-see-what-I-can-do-to-get-a-reaction. This, I assume, is one of those moments. I bet that’s why he watched my performance. To get a reaction out of me.
I brush it off and wish I could brush off the heat in my cheeks too. “You’re so bad.”
Do you sense the erotic way the words slip past my lips? They come out far breathier than I want them to.
“Trust me, Red. It’s not bad if it feels good.”
Oh. My. God. Revel Slade knows exactly how to get an audience in the palm of his hand and sadly, he’s got me there now too. As if I ever had a chance in the matter.
“You know better than to smile at me like that.”
I hadn’t realized I was smiling. Damn it. He gazes at me with a heated expression. With unease, I squirm in my seat. “I’m not smiling atyou.”
“Bullshit.” His words are layered with exhaustion and an emotion I can’t identify.
Blood bubbles in my veins. I want to punch him square in his sharp, beautiful jaw. “Are you done being an asshole?”
His gaze, unfazed, sweeps to mine. “Are you leaving the tour?”
“No.”
“Then I’m just getting started,” he says, his words honest and real. He blinks, and then the smirk I know so well appears.
I frown and blurt out the first thing that comes to my mind. “I have a boyfriend.” It’s a lie, Breckin and I broke up months ago, but Revel doesn’t need to know there’s no one since him. In fact, I think it’s better that he doesn’t.
“Shouldn’t have said that, Red.”
Great, another nickname. What’s this, like the third one he’s given me?
His smirk draws me in again. “Why?”
He breaks eye contact, his head turning to the side and giving me a view of his taut jaw that’s drawing me in. His gaze returns as he talks around an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips and leans in closer, heat rolling from his body. “Because I’m the kind of guy who’ll fuck you in his bed to prove a point.”
Are you as speechless as me? I don’t think I can form words let alone a facial expression outside a gaping open mouth and I’m sure he’s thinking about filling it with something. Remember when he said:“Every time you open your mouth to tell me off, all I can think about is shutting you up with my cock shoved down your throat.”
I certainly do. Snapping my mouth closed, I draw in a deep breath. He needs to get away from me.
A flight attendant stops when she notices the cigarette in Revel’s mouth. “There’s no smoking on the plane, sir.”
