Page 50 of Revv

“I didn’t claim anything.”

“Sure, Mama.”

I fold my arms. “I was helping you.”

“From the scary woman asking about surfing?”

“She was asking about more than surfing.”

“That bother you?”

“No.”

“Not even a little?”

“Not even at all.”

He gives me a look that says he doesn’t believe a word of it, then shifts the board under one arm. “Yeah, alright. I’ll play along. We getting out there or what?”

I glance toward the water. “Out where?”

“The ocean. You did just tell her I’m your surf teacher.”

“That was an excuse.”

“Sounded like your idea.”

“It wasn’t.”

He reaches for my hand before I can step back, hooks his fingers through mine, and starts tugging me toward the water.

“I don’t surf.”

“That’s why you need a lesson.”

“I hate you,” I tell him, digging my heels into the sand even though I’m still letting him pull me.

He looks back over his shoulder, grinning. “Yeah, well, you can hate me out there.”

“I’m not going in.”

He turns, walking backward now, still holding my hand. “Scared?”

“Of drowning? No. Sharks? Very fucking much.”

His eyes drop to my mouth. “You really think I’d let a shark take a bite out of you before I get the chance to?”

Ay, coño.

The way he says it—low, filthy, like he isn’t talking about teeth at all sends heat straight between my thighs.

I yank on his hand, trying to pull mine free, but he only tightens his grip and tugs me against him.

“You’re disgusting.”

By the time we’re waist-deep, I’m already questioning every decision that brought me here.

The water moves harder this far out, pushing against my hips in steady pulls that make the sand shift under my feet. The board rocks beneath me as we move farther out, and I grab Revel’s shoulder when a bigger wave lifts us.