CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

L uke

The room is quiet.

Too quiet.

And way too cold.

I think the power is still off, and this hotel is fancy enough it doesn’t have one of those external heaters that rumble and make noise and take up space.

Sebastian stirs beside me, and I realize his steady breathing has stopped, replaced by shivering.

Shit.

“You’re cold,” I say, even though it’s the most obvious thing ever.

“I-I’m fine,” he says, even though it’s the most obvious lie ever.

His teeth chatter, and his shoulders hunch forward, as if the fetal position will solve all his problems.

Before I can overthink it, I slide closer. I scoop him into my arms, holding him against my chest.

He stiffens, his body rigid.

Too late I realize that maybe this is not, strictly speaking, HR-recommended behavior. Pretty sure men in dating shows do not generally wrap their male hosts in their arms. We’re touching everywhere—my chest to his back, my legs to his legs, my nose brushing the nape of his neck.

“Um, Luke?” He whispers into the dark and starts to wriggle away.

“I want you to be warm,” I say. “Body heat and everything.”

“But—” Sebastian eases away. “I don’t think this is professional.”

I contemplate the dark room, unsure if Sebastian doesn’t want to touch me or if he doesn’t think it’s appropriate.

“I don’t mind,” I say finally. “Obviously.”

“I’m a guy.”

“And I’d rather you weren’t a cold guy.”

He laughs softly, and maybe we’re fine. Maybe the awkwardness from earlier this evening has drifted away, forgotten after our dreams.

I still hear him shiver, still hear his breath sputter out more quickly than it should. I mean, it is exceedingly cold—it’s sort of New Hampshire’s specialty.

“And you want me to be warm, right?” I ask.

“Well.” He flips around. “We’ve never had a sneezing Mr. Right before. Clutching tissues and the floral crown.”

“I don’t intend to be the first.”

“It would be more work for the editing team.”

“We can’t have that.”

He laughs again, the sound light and airy, and something squeezes my heart. I pull him toward me. This time, we’re face to face, like lovers. I suddenly imagine him wrapping his long, slender arms around me and brushing his succulent lips against me. I wonder if kissing a man would be different than kissing a woman.

I shouldn’t be thinking those thoughts. Not about someone I sort of work with. Not about someone who is supposed to be finding me a wife.

He moves away, and I hope he hasn’t heard all my thoughts, but I know that’s impossible, and besides, it’s not like I’m attracted to him or anything. I mean, I’m straight. That’s a fact.

“Sebastian....” My voice has more longing than I expected.

“Just turning around,” he says, then he flops over and backs into me. I’m not sure why this position is better than when he was facing me, but I pull him tightly against my chest. My legs press against his because body heat is totally a thing.

I don’t want to brag, but I’m pretty sure I can make him warmer than an extra blanket would. He’s still shivering, and I move my arms up and down his body, wanting to make his shivers vanish, wanting to warm his blood.

“I think the heat went out with the electricity,” I say.

“Yeah.”

Snowfall is quieter than rain, but the wind roars all the same, making windows rattle. If there was outside furniture, they would probably be tossed to the side. I hold him tightly against me. I don’t like thinking of him as cold, and maybe something about holding him warms up something in me too, something I didn’t even realize was cold.

I wonder if I should apologize for holding him so tight, then I hear a new sound...that of steady breathing. He’s sleeping. In my arms.

The thought makes me grin into the night, even though it shouldn’t, and something flutters in my stomach.

I’m getting harder.

I bite my lip because that’s definitely not appropriate. My cock is pressed against Sebastian’s round bottom, and I guess my cock is into that. I wriggle away from him slightly, even though every instinct I have is telling me to thrust against him.

But I’m not going to do that while he’s sleeping, and I’m certainly not going to do that when he’s awake. My cock remains hard, as if straining to meet Sebastian. I guess that’s normal behavior. If someone’s in my bed, it’s usually for special nightly activity.

I am not thinking about the large, fleshy dildo in Sebastian’s suitcase. No way.

Even if the dildo is the same size as me.

Does he put it inside himself? All of it? But he must. That’s not a thing people have for decoration. My cock hardens. I imagine Sebastian lubing up the dildo and sliding it inside him. I imagine it disappearing into him. What would his facial expression look like?

And then I imagine pushing my own cock inside. I imagine his ass swallowing my cock and... I shake my head. I am not imagining that. That was a nighttime random thought. Sign of a sleepy mind.

Because obviously, I’m straight. I’ve only dated women. I’ve never found myself longing for a man, and I’m twenty-four. If that’s what I wanted, I could have done it. Finn is one of my best friends, and now so is Noah.

But to be honest I’ve never been that into women either.

I’ve always felt mystified by my friends’ enthusiasm. A night picking up women was a night when we couldn’t sit and chat.

Sex feels good, I get it, but I’ve started to wonder if maybe it feels better to my friends. Because I’ve never been as crazy about it as them. Entering some woman whom I barely met has always felt more awkward than thrilling, on a list of things I tolerate, rather than crave.

And yet now Sebastian’s dildo remains in my mind.

I’ve never done anal before. Women have always been sufficiently intimidated by my cock that I’ve never wanted to suggest it. Even if round, high asses are attractive. But everyone knows that.

I bet Sebastian’s ass is attractive. It looks high and round when he wears suits, the cut slimmer fit than anything Troy wears.

Blood pulses through me. My mind is tired and confused. That’s it.

Perfectly normal. That’s why everyone is always recommending getting a good night’s sleep. They probably know everyone would be thinking about crazy thoughts like this otherwise.

The room heats, even though there’s no electricity. I will myself to sleep, but when I wake up, Sebastian is no longer in my arms. The shower runs, and I feel cold and discombobulated as I step into the crisp morning air.