Page 138 of Revv

“Exactly. This way you can try to keep up.”

That gets her.

She laughs and starts toward the rental kiosk. “Ay, please.” Her gaze stays on me a beat longer before she turns away. “Still gonna smoke your ass.”

“Cute.”

“Start making excuses now, pretty boy. It’ll hurt less later.”

Fuck, she’s back.

By the time we clear the marina, the stressed-out woman who spent the morning glaring at her laptop is gone.

The water stretches wide and blue around us, Miami fading behind into glass towers, white hotels and a strip of pale sand lined with palms. The sun is fucking relentless, high overhead and flashing against the chop until the whole ocean looks covered in broken glass.

Cece takes the first few minutes easy, getting used to the machine beneath her.

Then I pass too close and spray her.

Her mouth falls open.

Even from twenty feet away, I know I’ve fucked up.

She wipes water from her sunglasses and points at me.

I laugh. “What?”

She guns it.

“Oh, shit.”

Her jet ski launches forward, cutting across my wake as she flies past me with a scream of laughter.

I punch the throttle after her.

From there, it turns into complete fucking chaos.

We race between markers, cut across each other’s wakes and argue over who cheated every time she wins—which is bullshit, because she absolutely cheats.

She takes off before we agree on a start at least twice and nearly falls off laughing when I call her on it.

At one point, she pulls alongside me and lifts her sunglasses.

“Having trouble keeping up?”

“My view’s distracting.”

Her eyes narrow before she catches where mine drop.

“My ass is not an excuse for losing.”

“Have you seen it in that bikini?”

“Yes. I own a mirror.”

“Then you understand the disadvantage I’m working with.”

Her laugh gets carried away by the wind. “Losing is still losing, Papi.”