“Sander doesn’t know what my truck looks like,” said Kiko. “I can’t believe we’re arguing about this.”
“You’re the one arguing,” said Dom, giving Kiko a little shove. Maybe it was the coolness inside after a day spent outside in the heat, or maybe it was the kiss Kiko had stolen from him earlier, but he had been having difficulties keeping his hands off Kiko ever since the man had started unbuttoning his shirt to change. He was wearing a T-shirt now; Dom tried not to think about how easily he could pull up the cloth.
“One person can’t have an argument.”
“You’re that talented,” said Dom, grinning. Kiko rolled his eyes.
“Come on then. Your car.”
Dom let Kiko lock the house, then tried to drive at a reasonable speed. It was getting late, almost nine in the evening now, and the sun was be
