Page 3 of Falling in Reverse

Without him, I’m nothing.

Even so, I wish I could wiggle my nose to Bewitched him somewhere else at times.

“Bay.” I blink and pull him back into my vision. His short, dark brown hair is spiked upward, as though he just rolled out of bed and put on whatever when I called this morning with the news of what happened last night. “Focus.”

“No.”

Levi runs his large hand down the side of his face, clearly exasperated. “He doesn’t need this bullshit.”

No shit.

And same.

“Hence why the shotgun made an appearance last night,” I deadpan, averting my eyes from him and onto my two sisters.

They’re in the kitchen with us, eating off-brand Fruit Loops without a care in the world. Mae with her two barbie dolls, sitting upright as if they’re dining with her, and Ellie, who’s painting her nails hot pink with one of the few bottles I stole from Walmart last week.

Levi’s meaty fingers suddenly wrap firmly around my jaw, decorated in black ink and the stains of car grease as he demands my immediate attention. “Did they hurt you?”

I can hear the slight panic in his voice, but he’d never lose his stoic demeanor for sappy crap. However, it’s never lost on me that I mean as much to him as he does to me.

“No.”

“You sure?”

I narrow my eyes a bit. “I just said?—”

“What you said and what actually happened, sometimes, are two different things.”

I hate that he knows me so well sometimes. I can’t get away with shit.

“What format of the words do you need so that you believe me when I say I’m fine?” I solicit seriously, reaching for his hand because, if Ellie and Mae see what he’s doing, they’re going to suspect something’s up.

Levi slowly drops his grip. “I really don’t like this shit.”

“We live in South Shore, Lev.”

“Which makes me really not enjoy the fact that no man is in this house to protect all of you.”

I perk a brow. “Are you moving in?”

“You shot that idea down last week.”

“Because I didn’t want your hoes to be knockin’ on my door every two minutes looking for you.”

Levi glowers at me. “Shut the hell up. I don’t have hoes and they’re definitely not knocking on my damn door.”

This man either doesn’t know what he’s working with, or he’s just oblivious to it all, being he’s so used to it, because he’s built like a damn tattooed god.

Not that I would ever tell him that.

The black stubble that etches out his sharp jawline and around his lips gives him his bad boy vibe. His shoulders, bulgy biceps, arms, long fingers, and collarbone are painted all in black ink.

Levi Wallace is the epitome of male eye candy.

There isn’t a moment when we go out that he hasn’t been eye-fucked over a dozen times by every red-blooded female within a ten-yard radius.

Shit, if we didn’t friend zone each other, I wouldn’t mind taking him for a ride.

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