Page 118 of I Blame the Club

“Give me two minutes and I’ll show you out of control.”

Giving his ass one last squeeze, I plant another kiss on his lips before pulling away, “You’ve got tinted windows. We’ll make up some time on the road.”

Maurice reaches up and grabs my chin, tilting his head in study, “Are you wearing makeup?”

I gulp, sending up a prayer that the dark sky and my scruff will be enough to hide the flush suddenly spreading over my cheeks.

“I wanted to do something different tonight.”

He stares at me silently, the expression on his face unreadable. I sigh, feeling oddly disappointed, “I can take it off.”

He frowns, catching my arm before I can turn away.

“Why would you do that? It looks good.”

“Really?”

“You know how I feel about repeating myself.” Maurice smirks, reaching up to touch the corner of my eye, “But yes, it looks good. It will make your eyes pop when you’re sucking me off on the drive to the club.”

I huff out a nervous laugh, “So you don’t think it’s too… gay?”

“Did you not hear a word I just said?”

He lets out an exasperated sigh, “Just because I’m bisexual doesn’t mean you have to lean into your masculine tendencies. I’m not with you because you’re a guy, Nico. I’m with you because you’re the only person I can’t stand being around almost as much as I can’t stand being without.”

And there goes my heart.

My face splits into a grin, “Does this mean you don’t hate me anymore?”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” Maurice grins, officially engraving his name on the memory box marked forever, “But I’ll let you in on a secret, Montez.”

My cheeks start to ache from all this smiling but I soldier on, feeling stupidly in love and certain about who I want to spend the rest of my mornings arguing with.

“Do tell.”

His smile widens, mirroring my own.

“I wouldn’t want to hate anyone else.”

Epilogue

2 weeks later…

Lacey

“Is Mojo not the cutest name for a dog?”

Nico shifts in his seat to look at me, the massive backseat of Mo’s Cadillac giving me more than enough legroom to stretch out comfortably. My latest romance novel lies open on my lap, the explicit sex scene staring at me from the ink on the page.

Mo shakes his head from the driver’s seat, “We are not naming our dog Mojo.”

“But you admit we’re adopting a dog?”

I look up and survey the scene with a wry smile. Nico’s endless taunts are something I’ve gotten used to after years of shared childhood experience. His boyfriend, on the other hand, still doesn’t seem to have a handle on the wild card that is my closest friend.

Mo rolls his eyes, his profile just as handsome through the side mirror. Nico has always gone for confident, athletic jocks who are considered to be universally attractive. Our joke used to beNico likes his men big and mean whereas I like mine lean and pretty.

“No.”

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