Page 67 of Revived (Revved #2)

“Suck monkey balls?” I laugh.

“It’s a saying…not a nice one. In fact I have no clue where I heard it from or why I even used it.” She giggles, and the sound soothes me.


“I love that sound,” I tell her. “You have the cutest laugh.”

“And you have the sexiest voice. With your accent…” She trails off.

“Does my accent turn you on?” My cock sits up and pays attention.

“Maybe,” she says coyly.

“Estou com saudades de você.”

She moans softly. “Tell me what you said?”

“I said, I miss you.”

“I miss you, too, so much. Say something else in Portuguese.”

“Preciso muito te foder.”

“What does that mean?” Her voice is breathy, making my cock harder.

I palm my dick through my jeans, really needing her touch though, not my own. “I said, I really need to fuck you.”

She lets out a sexy giggle. “And I really need to be fucked by you.”

I groan, squeezing my cock with my hand. “Ring me as soon as you get home. So, I can make you come with my voice.”

“In Portuguese?” Her voice is gentle groan.

I close my eyes on the sound, imagining her here with me. “Anything you want, babe. I just need to hear you come.”

“I love how you can fix any situation with sex.”

“It’s a gift.”

“A gift that you’re really good at. I’ll call you as soon as I’m home in bed. I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Disconnecting the call, I toss my phone on the bed and grab a bottle of water from my fridge, turning the sound back on the TV. There is no way I am sleeping right now. Not until I know she is home, safe.

And if I wasn’t sure before about retiring, then I am now. I’m making this my last season, and after this year, I am never leaving India’s side again.

MY WEEKEND OFFICIALLY SUCKED MONKEY BALLS, aside from Leandro winning the Prix in Belgium. I was worried he wouldn’t, with the stress of everything, but that’s been the only good thing to happen this weekend.

I spent all of Saturday morning canceling my Monday appointments while Sophie canceled my Tuesday appointments. I thought it best to give myself a good window to get the office back in shape.

Kit and Jett came to the office with me. Sophie met us there, and we all spent the rest of the Saturday sorting the office back up, putting it into some semblance of normality. We got to catch parts of Leandro’s qualifying race on Jett’s iPad, which he’d brought with him. That was good, as I’d have hated to completely miss it.

The office was dirty, covered in powder from the fingerprint guy. Honestly, it just felt unclean and violated. I wanted it scrubbed back to clean. So, I came back on Sunday and scrubbed the place until it was gleaming.

Afterward, I went to the local PC World and bought new iMacs for Sophie and for myself.

When I got home, I saw the pictures of Leandro and that woman in the news. Kit had gotten the local paper, and it was on the front page, the picture of him and her. At the bottom was a small picture of him and me that was taken in Hungary.

Of course, the press knows Leandro and I are together. They know my name, what I do for a living, and that I have a son, but they don’t know anything more than that.

But this kind of story, claiming he’s cheating on his girlfriend, is the kind of fodder the press lap up.

If I hadn’t expected the picture, then I would have been devastated. The picture really does look convincing. I felt sick looking at it. I didn’t even bother reading the story beneath the headline.

I trust Leandro, and I just hate that he’s being exploited in this way.

The press was going for maximum impact, releasing the story on the morning of the Prix.

Leandro called me right before his race. I didn’t say anything about the story or picture to him. I was assuming his team and manager would keep the story away from him until the race was over, so not to affect his concentration. I was right because he didn’t mention it to me on the phone.

I was glad they hadn’t because he won, and I know he might not have, had he seen that story first. It would have knocked his concentration.

He called not long after his race, and he was happy but pissed off, too. As soon as he’d finished the race, he was told about the story circulating, so he wouldn’t be blindsided when he spoke to the press about his win.

And my phone hasn’t stopped ringing since. Journalists want a quote from me. I gave them no comment by hanging up on them, and then I started ignoring all calls from numbers I didn’t know.

Now, it’s Monday morning, and Leandro will be home tonight. I can’t wait. He just had some commitments he had to do this morning, some press interviews, and then he’s flying home.

It feels like he’s been away forever. Honestly, I don’t know how I’m going to get used to him being away so much. It’s a thousand times harder than I thought it would be.

My phone starts vibrating on the kitchen table with an unknown number. Sighing, I ignore it and get up from the table, pouring myself another coffee. As I sit back down, it starts vibrating again. I cancel the call and continue reading through some patient notes that I had managed to salvage from the mess in my office.

My phone starts vibrating again. Same number.

I cancel it again.

It rings back immediately.

Cancel.

Rings again.

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