Page 83 of I Blame the Club

But if we kiss… suddenly everything becomes real.

And I’m not sure I’m ready for that.

Taking a step back, I drop my gaze to the black t-shirt stretched tight across Maurice’s broad chest. My body immediately mourns the newfound distance between us, the confusion and desire swirling through my mind making me sway uneasily on my feet.

Maurice frowns, “How much have you had to drink?”

“Can’t remember.” I lie, choosing the safe route as Maurice glances around the club, tension seeping back into his features.

“We should get you home. Do you want me to find Wes?”

I shake my head, “I’ll send him a text.”

Pulling out my phone, I type an inappropriate number of eggplant emojis and hit send.

“Lead the way, Tiny.”

Chapter 23

Mo

It’s the worst case of déjà vu.

The Cadillac’s engine rumbles beneath us as we idle outside of Nico’s residence building, neither of us saying a word as I wait for Nico to get out of my vehicle.

Except this time, I don’t want him to go.

My grip on the steering wheel tightens as another minute of silence ticks by, the tension between us thickening until my skin feels like it’s on fire.

Clearing my throat, I fight to maintain my composure, “We’ve arrived.”

Nico nods, his dark eyes boring into mine. It feels like we’re having a silent power struggle, each of us waiting for the other to make a move. Normally I would break the barrier and invite him back to my place except now I’m in a precarious position. I don’t know how much Nico has had to drink and as his coach, I should see to it that he gets home safely.

Not fuck his brains out.

Gritting my teeth, I break our stare and look out the windshield. My dick has been rock hard since we left the club and it’s not making this situation any easier.

Why the fuck did he have to drink so much?

Frustrated with my lack of self-control, I’m just about to snap when Nico finally breaks the silence.

“Walk me to the door?”

I nod and guide us into a nearby visitor lot. Turning off the engine, I follow Nico into the night as he leads me to the entrance of his residence building. I don’t say a word when he swipes his access card and the light flashes green. The tension between us builds as he casts those dark eyes over me, the lingering glance at my zipper not going unnoticed.

“Your pants seem tighter than usual, Maurice. Anything I can help with?”

“Nothing that won’t get me arrested. Get inside and get sober. Then we’ll talk.” Tamping down the flames coating my skin, I turn to leave but Nico grabs my arm.

“Come inside with me.” His hand trails down my arm and disappears into the front pocket of my jeans. His fingers brush against my aching cock and I hiss out a breath.

“You’re drunk.”

“Am I?” Nico grins, withdrawing his hand, “One cooler and one shot is not what I call a heavy Saturday night, mi amor.”

My chest tightens at the slip of the nickname. The first time it happened, I brushed the text message off as a simple drunk miscommunication. But now Nico is looking at me like…

No. Absolutely not.

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