Revenge #4 Read Online Free Page B

in the driver’s face, as long as we’re at a stoplight.”
    My own mouth twitches. I let out a nervous gasp of a giggle. I don’t know how things between us got so crazy, but I wonder if I might have overreacted.
    I hand over the phone.
    “Hmm,” he says as he ponders the photo.
    After a few seconds, he slips me a look that says I’m going to be feeling very foolish in a minute. Good. I’d rather be feeling foolish than hear about him being with another girl.
    He hands the phone back to me. “Why don’t you google Miss Zerobia. I think that’s her name.”
    I punch in the name, taking a wild guess at the spelling. The signal is weak, but search results come up.
    She’s a drag queen. Miss Zerobia is a male performer who puts on padding and makeup, transforming into a gorgeous, muscular, tall woman.
    There’s a new post from Saturday’s fundraiser, including photos of Dylan posing with other people. There’s a cute blonde MMA fighter, and other local celebrities.
    I glance up from my phone and find Dylan staring at me with a smug expression.
    “Shut up,” I say to him playfully.
    He chuckles. “I didn’t say anything.” His eyes flick down to my lap. “Hey, I’m sorry I raised my voice at you.”
    “You really got mad fast.”
    He sighs. “Being alone in a cabin for the last year hasn’t healed me as much as I thought.”
    “Do you have an anger problem?”
    “I’m working to make my temper less of a problem and more of a charming quirk.”
    “It needs more work.”
    “You could help me.”
    “I seem to bring out the worst in you.”
    He leans over and kisses me on the cheek. He lingers, whispering, “You bring out my passionate side.”
    His breath is hot at my ear. The tickle of his lips near my skin makes my whole body hum. My back arches, and I start breathing heavier. Our sides are almost touching, but the center console and shifter separates us at our knees.
    “I don’t hate your passionate side,” I say.
    He growls happily and drags his lips down my cheek to my lips for a tentative kiss. I turn to meet his mouth.
    “Making up is the best part about fighting,” he says, his throaty words vibrating on my lips.
    “I don’t like fighting with you.” I take his lower lip between mine and suck gently.
    He keeps talking, even though I have his lower lip hostage. His words come out muddled, but I still understand him. “You don’t have a choice, Jess. You arouse my emotions. All of them.”
    I switch to his upper lip, wetting it with my tongue before sucking it into my mouth. His mouth is open, his breath hot and labored on my chin. My eyes are half-lidded, my head foggy.
    I hear him unclick his seatbelt and fold one leg up under himself so he can face me without twisting. I remove my seatbelt and do the same, mirroring him. We’re face to face, the console still between us. I let go of his lip and he seizes me, his hands at the back of my head. He cradles the base of my skull as he kisses me deeply.
    Both of us are breathing heavily, making muffled noises halfway between growling and purring. The car interior feels small now, and hot.
    His fingertips slide up the back of my head, through my hair. The movement sends bursts of pleasure through my body. His hands move back down and scoop under my earlobes. He squeezes and strokes my earlobes with his fingertips. One hand feels softer than the other. It’s because of the calluses on his fingertips from playing guitar.
    The slight rasp of those fingertips on my earlobe excite me. He plays guitar so beautifully. It’s no surprise he makes music with my body. I kiss him back ferociously, until the tick of my teeth on his makes me pull back and apologize.
    He gazes at me with amusement, his chocolate brown eyes half-lidded and sexy.
    “You bit me,” he whispers.
    “You bit me first.”
    The top of his lip curls up on one side, reminding me for a moment of his cute Elvis impersonation. He looks like he’s planning something, his gaze