Page 20 of I Blame the Club

“No, you’re…” I close my eyes, pausing to take a breath before Nico sucks me into another one of his juvenile games. Opening my eyes, I find him grinning at me.

“The only thing practice will give you is more bruises.” I pointedly look up and down his lean frame, “And that’s something you have enough of.”

Nico shrugs, “What’s another bruise for the collection? The assistant coach already gets on my ass for not putting in enough effort.”

For the love of…

“That’s different.”

I feel my left eye start to twitch and will myself not to explode. If Nico wasn’t already a walking corpse, I’d be sorely tempted to knock his front teeth out.

“Is it?” A stitched eyebrow goes up and something flashes in his eyes, “You seem to have forgotten your place on this team, Maurice. You aren’t the captain anymore. You don’t get the final say on what goes down on the field. That’s on me and Wes. You’re just here to support us.”

Nico steps forward, closing the distance between us. His breath hits my cheek, but I don't back away. His irises are almost black up this close and I can see his upper lip is still slightly swollen.

“I am going to morning practice even if I have to walk there. I may not give it my all in every practice, but when it comes to being a leader for those boys, I will give one hundred and ten percent every single time.”

His gaze flicks to my lips, as if he finally realized how close we are. Stepping away, Nico turns and grabs the car keys lying on the counter.

“What’s it going to be, Maurice? Are you giving me a ride, or should I start walking?”

I study him, watching the way his eyes dart around my apartment as he waits for my verdict. There’s a skittishness in him that wasn’t there before and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out why there’s fear still running through Nico’s system.

Sighing, I walk over to my pantry and grab a protein bar. Tossing it to him, I nod towards my bedroom, “If we don’t want to be late, you’re going to have to borrow some of my clothes.”

Surprise lights up his eyes and the smile that spreads over his face pulls at something deep in my chest.

“McD’s after then?”

“Don’t push it, Montez.”

Nico

Maurice O’Brien has stained my skin.

It’s no joke. I slept in the man’s bed and now I am wearing his clothes. It’s one thing to enjoy another man’s aftershave, it’s another thing to live and breathe it for twelve hours straight.

I am horny as fuck.

Turns out, my dick wasn’t injured in the smackdown last night because little Nico is up and moving this morning. The only saving grace is Mo’s athletic shorts are a lot bigger than what I normally wear, so it’s easier to hide my excitement on this fine smelling morning.

Subtlety doing my best to adjust myself, I yell out encouragement from the sidelines.

“That’s it, Millard! Take the shot!”

Our new forward races towards the net, where my sub is currently playing, and lines up his shot. Before he can take it though, Taber’s legendary all-star comes out of nowhere and sends the poor kid flying.

I blow my whistle, “Maurice! What did we say about taking it easy on the rookies?”

He turns to me, sweat glistening beneath his helmet and I have to refrain from fanning myself with my clipboard.

Mo walks over, his powerful stride eating up the field in no time. He stops in front of me and I take the moment to appreciate the thick leg muscles outlined beneath his shorts.

“If they want a chance to play first string, they have to be treated like they are good enough to play on the field.” Mo grabs the water bottle from my lawn chair and sprays it into his mouth.

“True, but if you kill them before our first tournament, I’m not sure it's going to matter.” I smirk, “Those boys aren’t used to someone your size.”

Mo shrugs, “Vin is basically my size. And he’s a lot more aggressive.”

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