Page 139 of Mexico Can Choke On It
“Let me see,” I say, opening the site on my phone.
The homepage loads… and wow!
Painting one: Echo, in all his shirtless glory, is a centaur using his feet to play a trumpet. Naturally.
Scroll.
Painting two: Echo, fully nude, curled around a banana tree, surrounded by flamingos in togas mid-jungle orgy.Yikes.
Scroll.
Painting three: Echo, buck naked again, breastfeeding a sloth. Tender. Unsettling.
And seared into my memory banks forever.
I can’t stop scrolling. Most of these paintings have already been sold. For millions of freaking dollars.
I pause on a portrait still up for sale. This one is… surprisingly ordinary. An elderly man with sharp eyes, a strong jaw, and silver hair. There’s a familiar quality to his face, but I can’t quite place where I’ve seen him.
“Time to make the magic happen,” Gavin says, standing and pressing a kiss to Fiona’s temple. “Looking forward to our beach evening, babe.”
“It’s going to be so fabulous, Gav-Gav,” Fiona purrs.
Bryce squeezes my leg once more before rising, a promise that sends my pulse into overdrive.
He politely nods. “Ladies, if you’ll excuse us.”
The second they’re gone, my fingers fly across my screen.
Me:Change of plans. I’ve got a surprise for you tonight.
Moneybags:Should I alert my lawyer or my doctor?
Me:Depends—how do you feel about putting something long and hot in your mouth?
Moneybags:Jesus, Pip. Are you trying to kill me?
Me:Not kill. Just full-body surrender.
Moneybags:I’ll bring my silk ties.
Me:Meet me at the garage after your last meeting. And B? Come hungry.
***
“Wouldyouhurrythehell up back there?“ I call out, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel. “We’re burning daylight, and I didn’t go through all this trouble just to watch the sunset from a parking garage.”
Lord Britchybottom made me sign my life away to borrow this vehicle. One scratch and I’m his indentured servant for life.
The SUV rocks slightly as Bryce changes in the back seat. I sneak peeks at his bare ass in the rearview mirror, and yep, it’s doing things to me.
“Youinsisted I change back here,“ he mutters, followed by the sounds of rustling fabric, whispered cursing, and one very stubborn zipper.
“Want me to hop back there and lend a hand? I’m excellent at taking your clothes off, so the reverse can’t be too hard.”
The door opens and Bryce steps out. My ovaries slow clap.
“Well, shit,” I breathe, climbing out to get the full visual.
