Page 170 of Falling in Reverse

“Have Levi deal with it.” I lug my face out of his grip, but Reeve holds me, one of his thumbs brushing along the bone of my cheek. “Sounds like you need some backup.”

“I’m fine.”

“I know,” he agrees. “I could watch you walk around for days.”

This guy…

“Reeve…”

“Mhm?”

“Thank you.”

His brows crease a bit. “For what?”

“My sister. You took care of my sister.”

He lifts his shoulders. “It was nothing.”

I trim the bleak distance between us. My chest lightly brushes his as I raise my chin to meet his face. “She’s everything to me. Both of them…and my father. And Levi.”

He gives a slow dip of his head, his concentration lodged on my mouth again. “I know.”

“I never got to show my appreciation.”

A barely audible little groan rumbles from his throat. “What does that include, exactly?”

I crook my index finger, beckoning Reeve to come closer, and without hesitation, he follows my instruction. The smell of sage and saltwater fills my nose and settles my once-wrecked nerves from moments ago.

He’s fucking beautiful.

Everything about him is perfectly designed and done up. The tattoos up his right arm that don’t reach his neck or face. The way his voice is rich and melodious, a steady rhythm that could put me to bed.

Throw me in bed.

He’s so fucking sexy that it’s kinda hard not to fuse my lips with his and show him exactly how much his sentiment means to me.

I mean, fuck, he’s the only one who seems to really give a shit about not hurting or threatening me in some way.

Pressing my lips to the corner of his lips, he chases me for a tick of a second before leaving me to offer what I want. His palms have already clasped around my waist, and I let him, enjoying the way my body doesn’t ward me off that he’s a foreshadowing peril I need to constantly be on my guard.

And maybe that makes him the most dangerous of them all.

“What earns me those pretty fuckin’ lips on mine?” Reeve croons, lightly squeezing my hip and glancing down at me like he’s about to die. “I’m feening for it, McQueen.” I smile, not able to help it. “You want a classic car? Someone’s head on a platter?”

“I’m good.”

“Then name it, it’s yours.”

“I want?—”

“Done.”

I chuckle and, fuck, when was the last time I did that without thinking about it? “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he says matter-of-factly, kneading the curve resting above my ass and on my back. “You got me locked into this rut where I don’t want to even look at another chick right now. I like this badass, softy thing you got going on.”

“Softy?” I hurl a brow. “I’m not?—”

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