2. Harper

2 /

harper

I stretched awake to bright sunshine streaming through the windows. The Warriors had come through; the loft apartment they'd found me, tucked away on the third floor of a repurposed downtown warehouse, was perfect.

The main level was a spacious open living room with a kitchen on one side, and in the back were a full bath and separate laundry room. An "industrial chic" staircase led to the loft, a large bedroom with its own bathroom and walk-in closet. Brick walls, maple and stainless-steel fixtures, hardwood floors, and polished metal ceilings turned the place into a private castle just for me.

The only snag was the lack of drapes or blinds. Floor-to-ceiling windows lined every exterior wall, offering a panoramic view of Lake Erie. As breathtaking as it was, waking up to the blinding light of the rising sun was far from ideal. Thankfully, an interior designer was sending someone over at noon. She said I could order window treatments on the spot, so with any kind of luck, the asscrack-of-dawn wake-up calls would soon be a thing of the past.

Groaning, I pulled the covers over my head, and the sun was higher in the sky when I woke again. I came up empty when I reached to the nightstand for my phone. Flopping my head back down on the pillow, I remembered leaving it downstairs after catching up with some old teammates last night. Tyler Jensen and his husband, Kev Moore, had called to see how I was doing, and I talked their ears off.

Although I'd miss the Bethesda Barracudas, the trade to Buffalo was a good move for me. The Barracudas had been the dominant team in the league for years, but since their roster was packed with all-stars, I hadn't had too much time on the ice. The coach put me in when he could, but I often had to play right wing, not my strongest position.

Although I didn't get as much ice time as I wanted, I'd always give the Cudas credit for three things. They gave me good experience, brought me together with guys who became the best friends I'd ever had, and never once hinted at trading me. They made me feel like a keeper in hockey, so I knew I could do something right. Yet when the Buffalo Warriors initiated the negotiations to acquire me from the Cudas, my agent and I recognized it as a golden opportunity. The Warriors needed a strong center, and I'd finally have the chance to prove what I could do.

The damn sun seemed brighter than ever, so I got out of bed and padded into the bathroom. After taking care of business, I pulled on basketball shorts and a tank top before heading downstairs to make coffee. Although I'd never touched the stuff in college, I became an addict as soon as I started with the Barracudas. Now, I wondered how I ever lived without it.

I was pulling eggs and fruit out of the refrigerator when I remembered my phone. Since I could never resist checking my messages first thing in the morning, I set the food on the counter and walked across the room.

The phone was on the coffee table, and my heart went into double-time as soon as I saw Luca's message on the screen. My insides vibrated as images of him flooded my mind—handsome as a movie star, with a perfect smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes and made me want to kiss him. My cheeks burned when I remembered the raw hunger sparking between us. The connection had been undeniable, and his message left me on the spot because I had to make a decision.

If half the Warriors hadn't gone out of their way to show me a good time on Thursday night, I'd have wound up in bed with Luca then. I nearly texted him when I got home, but as much as I wanted to see him again, nervousness had made me hesitate. It wasn't so much the "keeper" thing. I'd probably never find a guy who wanted me long-term, but I was no stranger to hookups, and I could have used a good fuck after the misery of my move. The problem was I dreaded hearing the line that seemed to be inevitable: "You play professional sports? I'd love to get fucked by a hockey player."

He'd raise his legs in the air, and what could I do but stick my dick up his ass and go to town? It would feel great and terrible at the same time. I needed a man to hold me down and give it to me hard, not want me to fuck him . Last year, the hunger had gotten so bad I couldn't go into the team shower without wondering which guy I could pay to push me into a corner and rail me until I was cross-eyed. Then I'd remember they were all goddamn married.

Well, not all . Pierre Gagné, a defenseman, was hot as hell. He was also presumably straight, but when he pinged on my gaydar a few times, I tried to get closer to him. After months of gathering my courage, I finally got up the nerve to ask him out. Just my luck—right before I said the words, he told me he was in a relationship with another man. Fuck my life.

I was a bottom who was always forced to be on top, and I needed to get fucked so much it was driving me nuts. I was desperate for it, and Luca would be the perfect man to give me what I needed. I shuddered when I imagined him behind me, ramming into me, giving me what I'd craved for so long. It might turn out to be the best day of my life.

Despite my fantasies, my hesitation to text him had grown into fear. Could someone I met in a bar—in the men's room, no less—really be as incredible as I imagined? And if he was, why would he be interested in me? As the days went by and he didn't message me either, I figured the moment had passed and I should leave him alone.

So why was he texting now? His message was different from other "let's fuck" texts I'd received in the past, and I wondered what he meant by one line: "Let's meet in the light of day and see if it happens again." Did "it" mean a platonic connection, or an irresistible urge to jump into bed? Maybe both?

Placing my phone back on the table, I sat down and considered Luca's physical effect on me. I'd wanted him so much I lost all my inhibitions. If he'd said, "Let's go fuck in a stall," I'd have been all in. Hell, another minute of standing there, and I might have suggested it myself.

I hated being so screwed up inside. I longed for a genuine relationship, the kind that went beyond a string of fucks followed by "see you when I see you." But as much as I wanted a real romance, it couldn't be. Years of rejection had made me build a wall around my heart, and I wasn't about to fall for someone and set myself up for more hurt when he moved on. "I'm not a one-man guy," "You're not the kind of man to settle down with," and "I've got a bad history with jocks"—I'd heard all the excuses too many times.

But a night spent with Luca would be a lot better than sleeping alone. Hookups had kept me sane for years, so why not fuck the hottest guy I'd met in a long time? There was always a possibility it could lead to a friends-with-benefits arrangement, and I'd be down for that. Sex and friendship plus no commitment would equal an awesome summer.

Luca's message put a whole new light on things. If I wanted to see him, all I had to do was respond. My stomach growled, so I made breakfast while I considered my options. In the middle of scrambling eggs, I realized I was being a complete idiot. What the fuck was I thinking? Sex with Luca would be an event to remember, and whether it led to anything else or not, I was too horny to pass it up. I'd text him later.

After playing Elden Ring , choosing blinds for my windows, and enjoying a long shower, I went out to explore the neighborhood. My building was in an older part of the city that used to be heavily industrial, but now it was a vibrant mix of apartments, condos, and local businesses. Since I was new to the area, I wanted to get the lay of the land.

There weren't many people out on a Tuesday afternoon, but I was excited by the diversity I saw. Unlike D.C., where high rents meant downtown living was for those with money, Buffalo offered a refreshing mix. Whereas my former neighbors were doctors and lawyers, and we were surrounded by upscale stores, it was different here. The quirky shops and friendly workers were refreshing, and each store offered something unique. From organic kale chips to recreational cannabis, I could find it all within a short walk.

Only one person stopped me on the street, a guy about my age with killer tats. "Sorry to bother you, man, but aren't you Harper Blanton, the guy who just got traded to the Warriors?"

He must have been a hockey fan to recognize me in my old T-shirt, baggy shorts, and weathered baseball cap, so I smiled. "Yes, I'm Harper. How's it going?"

Breaking into a wide grin, he held up his fist for a bump. "Abel Kahn. It's an honor. You're a sick player, dude. The Cudas are my favorite team after the Warriors, so I watch as many of their games as I can. They were stupid for not letting you play more."

"Thanks. The Cudas have riches to spare, so I was lucky to get as much time on the ice as I did. I'm super excited to be here, though. Thanks for the great welcome."

"Things will be different in Buffalo, dude. We need you. I'll bet you get all the ice time you want and then some. Criswell might even put you on the first line since Ewing's gone, and you'll be breaking Ewing's records in no time."

Ford Ewing was a seventeen-year veteran who'd retired at the end of last season. Since he was destined for the Hall of Fame, Abel had paid me a tremendous compliment. "I don't know about that, but I'll work my ass off. Thanks for taking the time to say hi."

He grinned again. "I'm not the only one who's glad you're here. We'll be pulling for you, man."

After we said goodbye, he went into a hardware store while I wiped sweat off my brow and cursed the heat. A honking horn made me look up, and I was relieved to see a coffee shop across the street. Since the humidity was killing me, Jitterbug Java offered exactly what I needed—caffeine for an energy boost, and iced coffee to cool me off.

A blast of cold air hit me as I pushed the door open, a relief after the weather outside. I breathed out a contented sigh as the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled my senses. The shop was small and intimate, with exposed brick walls and wooden accents. Soft jazz played in the background, creating a relaxed atmosphere.

I scanned the menu board, and after chatting with the barista while he whipped up my iced midnight blend frappé, I carried the drink around a corner to the seating area. Only one customer was there, and my heart took off for the races as soon as I saw him. Powerful arms, tousled dark hair, and a snug white T-shirt straining against his broad shoulders were as intoxicating as the coffee in my hand.

When Luca raised his head, our eyes locked into an electrifying connection. I licked my lips, and his tentative smile built into a grin. "Harper?"

My hands trembled so much I had to use both of them to steady my cup. Was I ready to face him? Would he be angry because I hadn't replied to his message yet? Surely he'd understand I'd been out getting to know the neighborhood since I was new here. He jumped up, and I realized I was already smiling.

Pointing at an empty chair across from him, he asked, "Join me?"

Playing it cool was overrated, so I hurried across the room and set my coffee on the table. "Hi, Luca."

"I'm glad to see you," he said.

His grin was breathtaking, but I somehow resisted the urge to touch him. "Great seeing you, too."

We sat down and stared at each other. After a moment, he tilted his head. "How did you know I was here?"

"I didn't. I was out for a walk, and this looked like a good place to escape the heat."

"You live nearby?"

"Not far. I just moved to Buffalo last week, so I wanted to explore the neighborhood."

His gaze lingered, making me lightheaded. The espresso machine hissed in the background while I wished I'd worn a T-shirt with no holes in it. And for the love of God, why hadn't I thrown my damn cargo shorts away a long time ago? At least I'd taken a shower.

Luca's smile was blinding. "This is a great part of town. I live here, too."

My mind went rogue, and I almost asked how long it would take to get to his place. Somehow, I managed to resist. "It'll be good knowing someone nearby," I said.

He caught his lower lip with his teeth, and the playful glint in his eyes made him look ridiculously cute. "That explains it, then."

I was so busy imagining how his lips would taste, I wondered if I'd missed something. "Explains what?"

His smirk matched the mischief in his eyes. "You just moved. That's why I haven't heard from you. Otherwise, you'd have been sending me so many messages I couldn't keep up with them."

I barked out a laugh. "Full of yourself much?"

"Did you get my text?"

I twisted my lips into the snarkiest grin I could manage. "It was only five days late."

He rolled one shoulder in a shrug. "Better late than never."

I waved him off. "I was planning to answer you when I got home."

"Likely story. You've probably been busy fighting off guys, and that's why I haven't heard anything."

"What makes you assume I like men? We didn't spend enough time together for you to reach a conclusion like that."

He scoffed. "For fuck's sake, the way you looked at me, I?—"

"The way I looked at you ?" I rolled my eyes. "You looked at me like you wanted to have me for dinner."

He snickered. "Noticed that, huh? I wasn't sure since you were so busy ripping my clothes off with your eyes. Want to finish the job now?"

We laughed, and I could feel my body heat rising. Luca tilted his head, showing off a square chin that was the ideal companion to his oval face. His cheeks were covered with thick, dark stubble, and the beautiful display of masculinity went straight to my balls.

When our laughter sputtered out, he shot me a playful look, one eyebrow quirked upward. "Now that I think about it, we should probably wait until we have more privacy to get undressed."

"Good call." His ebony eyes were glimmering pools that promised all kinds of rewards if I jumped in for a swim. We'd been joking around, but there was a lot of truth behind the funny jibes, at least on my end. My dick lengthened as I considered inviting him to my new place, and his playful expression hinted he might have similar ideas.

I wondered if I should tell him I played hockey. I couldn't avoid it if we saw each other again, but right now, I wanted to hook up. If he didn't know I was an athlete, maybe he'd fuck me.

While I mulled that over, he cleared his throat. "Can I ask you something?"

Here we go. Would it be, "Let's go to my apartment and look at my hot dog collection," or, "Why don't we go to your new place, and I'll show you where I'd put things"?

I nodded. "What's up?"

The room was cool, but we'd been kicking up a lot of heat. He wiped beads of sweat from his forehead and smiled. "How would you feel about hanging out sometime? I'm meeting friends in about an hour, and then I have a business thing most of the day tomorrow. I'll be free after that, though."

My mind spun, trying to parse what he'd said. "Hanging out" had at least two different meanings, and I almost asked which he meant. Since I hoped for both, I didn't push him. "That sounds cool."

"Let's plan on it, then."

Fuck being shy. "You're asking for…" I bounced my eyebrows. "Hanging out?" When he wrinkled his forehead, I realized I'd gotten it wrong. "Sorry, that's not what I meant. It would… Do you… Goddammit. I didn't mean…"

He snorted. "I hope that's part of what you meant." He leaned across the table, and I breathed in the musk I remembered from the other night. Tracing a fingertip over my hand, he lowered his voice. "We both know what we want right now, but I could use a friend. Is it possible to do both, or are you just looking for something quick?"

My dick sprang to attention under the table, and I inhaled again, reveling in his scent. "I was trying to figure out how to say the same thing. I want both, but right now, I need what you're talking about." I glanced down, hoping he'd get the drift; when I raised my head, his grin confirmed he'd received the message.

"Same situation here," he said.

That set off a round of wild thoughts, and I nodded. " Hanging out would be amazing, but I'd be game to hang out as well."

"So, that's a firm yes on hanging out and hanging out?"

"You bet." I didn't know if he was looking for a friend with benefits or a short-term fling, but we could have a lot of fun either way. "I know you have to be somewhere soon," I said, "but do you have time for us to drink our coffee?"

He pulled out his phone and glanced at it. "About forty minutes." Another impish twinkle lit up his eyes. "Don't go anywhere. I'll be right back."

He got up and made a big show of adjusting himself, then walked to the front of the shop. I couldn't see the counter, and since I hadn't touched my coffee yet, I hoped he didn't bring me something else to drink.

He was back in less than a minute. "Come with me."

"Where?"

Flashing a cocky grin, he held up a key. "I know the barista, so I said I had to use the men's room. You need to go as bad as I do, right?"

Holy shit, does he want to… Yeah, judging by his hungry look, that's exactly what he had in mind. My brain screamed a shrill warning, but fuck it. I was going in there with him.