CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

L uke

Sebastian’s words echo in my mind, and I grin.

He carries the same t-shirt and sweatpants I wore in New Hampshire.

“Raise your arms,” he orders.

“Oh yeah?” My eyebrow slides up.

“Yeah.” He nods firmly.

“Guess I better listen to you.” I raise my arms, and he slides the t-shirt down.

Then he takes my sweatpants and lifts up one my legs.

“I see I’m getting excellent service,” I say. “Must be someone who is excellent at taking care of me.”

“Uh-huh.” He takes my other leg and slides it through the other hole. Then he frowns. “Um.”

“Should I stand up?”

He nods. “Yeah.”

I stand up and he pulls the sweatpants over my legs. The fabric brushes against my nerve endings, and I realize Sebastian is practically kneeling before me. It’s almost like...

Sebastian must realize at the same time, and his gaze falls to my cock. My stiffening cock. His gaze lingers on it, and I smile, waiting for him to once again blush.

It takes three seconds.

Then Sebastian scrambles up, pulling up the sweatpants, and takes several giant steps back.

“The hotel room is big, but not that big,” I warn him.

“Oh.” He pauses, then swings around and glances at the wall. “Right. Of course.”

He glances at the piece of paper Dr. Novak gave him. “I, um, need to give you your medicine and ask you some questions.”

“Okay.” I nod, disappointed, but I can’t pretend my eyelids aren’t getting heavier, my reactions aren’t getting slower, that the ache in my body isn’t ever increasing, even if I’m satisfied in the knowledge Sebastian does maybe like me too.

I might have gotten hit, but this is totally a good day.

I’m quiet as Sebastian prepares me for bed, then he leads me to the bed, undoes the covers and points.

“You tucking me in?”

“Uh-huh.”

I slide in happily, and he starts to pull the cover up, but I frown, disappointed. “You’re getting in.”

“There’s another bed for me,” he explains.

“I want you beside me.”

His eyes soften. I don’t often ask for what I want, but I’m bossy where Sebastian is concerned. I’ll be bossy for both of us.

“You’re still Mr. Right,” he says. “I’m still the host of your TV dating show.”

“I know.”

“We can’t be together.”

I’m quiet. This is where I say “I know” again, but even though I like agreeing with Sebastian, even though I like telling him he’s right, I’m silent.

“There has to be a way.”

He gives me a sad smile. “When you wake up in the morning, we can pretend this never happened.”

“I’ll never do that.”

“But if you change your mind, you can. I won’t hold it against you.”

I frown, then so does Sebastian, and I hate that the tips of his lips are diving downward.

“Lie next to me,” I say. “I want to feel you. I want to know you’re here.”

“You’re still injured...”

“I’ll be good,” I say.

He hesitates, but then he slides into the bed beside me. He faces away from me, but I pull him toward me, and flick off the light switch next to the bed. We might be enshrined in darkness, but I want our faces next to each other. I hold him, and after a moment’s hesitation, he holds me, pulling me closer, so our breaths merge, his grasp firmer, stronger than anything I’m used to.

Sleep comes easily, and when I wake for the final time, I am still clutching him. Sebastian sleeps tucked against me, his blond locks against my chest, his slender, elegant fingers clutching my t-shirt. His mouth is parted, as if he’s mid-kiss, and his lashes flutter. I want to memorize everything.

A buzzing sound that wasn’t here before fills the room like an angry insect.

Sebastian’s eyes flick open.

“Good morning,” I say, shifting him as I lunge for the phone.

He nods, but alarm fills the blue of his eyes, and I hope it’s because of the sound of the phone, and not because of us.

It’s his phone in the end, and I pass it to him.

He sighs. “Hi Ella.”

He moves from the bed, and I am cold. I lie back, but there is no sleeping. The day is beginning.

“There’s a picture?” Sebastian frowns. “Of us? Wait...”

My stomach sinks, and I exchange wide-eyed glances with Sebastian. He is on work mode though. His voice doesn’t tremble. It doesn’t wobble.

I wait as he opens a picture on a phone. He scarcely flinches.

“That’s nothing,” Sebastian says. “The bellboy asked us for a selfie.”

I rise from the bed, but he gestures for me to sit down.

“Selfies involve people squeezing together, Ella. That’s the whole concept. Remember that selfie Ellen did all those years ago with over a dozen people? None of them had rumors about one another. Of course, I’m right. That’s why you called me. This is nothing, I promise. They’re going after Luke because of the two same-sex couples on his team. He is a heterosexual man on a heterosexual dating show.”

Sebastian lies easily and smoothly.

What ever happened between us last night, it was not heterosexual.

“I have to go, Ella,” Sebastian says. “Luke is awake. Yes, I’m taking care of him. He’s the star of our show. I’ll get some video of him today. Mateo can put it on social media.”

I frown. That’s why he stayed? Because he wanted to make some social media posts of me?

I remind myself that’s not true. I know it’s not true. I know the reason he’s here is because I asked him. I insisted Dr. Novak get him. I remember that much from when I woke up yesterday. I remember missing him. I remember being in a doctor’s room and wondering where he was.

I hope he explained that away.

It suddenly occurs to me there can’t be a future between us. Dating show host seduces the TV show’s previously straight Mr. Right and claims him for himself?

I cringe.

“How are you feeling?” Sebastian says, his voice softer.

“Just sore,” I say.

He nods.

I don’t tell him I feel like I’ve been thrust into a tornado’s eye, that I’m spinning, that I don’t know if I can survive. I feel like I’m wrecking everything around me.

Sebastian’s career.

My career.

I worry that I’ll anger Blizzards team management, even though I’ve never even annoyed them before. I worry that I’ll hurt Falcon Productions and the producers I’ve met.

I worry that I’ll hurt the women I’m supposed to be dating. They might all consider it for pretend, but do they want to see speculation that I might be dating the host?

I worry I’ll be traded away from the best friends I have in the world, from Troy and Finn and Noah and Dmitri. Even Axel. Even Vinnie with his sullen glowers to the world. And Evan whom I’m far too intimidated of to consider a friend, but whom I respect on and off the ice.

No, all of that I leave unsaid. I don’t want to upset Sebastian. I don’t want his face to fall and for him to say he should have stopped the kiss before it happened, that he never should have kissed me back, never should have slept in my arms.

Because despite all those things...Sebastian likes me. I’m sure of it. The man I’ve watched for years on any screen I could find.

He likes me.

He feels the same emotions I do. At least somewhat.

I lie back in bed. “It’s going to be a good day.”

“Um, Luke? The bellboy posted a picture of us that’s going viral.”

“That’s too bad.”

“I-I know.”

“For the bellboy,” I say, taking Sebastian’s hands in his own. “He might get let go, and this looks like a nice job.”

“You’re so sweet,” Sebastian says, staring at me in something like awe.

“I imagine he was highly compensated,” Sebastian assures me.

“He might have posted it on his social media,” I say.

“Everyone can be a paparazzo now,” Sebastian says, his smile wry.

“Maybe.”

We stare at the wall in front of us. At the beige grass wallpaper, just special enough to be considered appropriate for a luxury hotel.

Sebastian is beside me.

I take his hand in mine. “I liked last night.”

“We can’t repeat it.”

“Do you want to repeat it?”

He shrinks. “That’s not relevant.”

“No,” I say firmly. “What you want is relevant.”

“I can’t believe you know who I am.”

“It’s cute you were acting like I wouldn’t know who you are,” I say, and I smile as pink descends upon his cheeks again.

Sebastian raises his chin. “It worked for Clark Kent.”

“I guess I know the problem then.”

“I’m not flying through the sky in a stretchy suit?”

“Hey. I like your suits and you’ve certainly reached the highest heights of reality TV.”

“I’m not saving the world.”

“You’re saving the world from boring evenings one well-produced hour at a time.”

He laughs, and warmth fills my heart.

“I’m not Lois Lane,” I say, leaning close to him.

His eyes widen, and then we are kissing. I lean him down on the bed, gently because there is nothing more precious in this world, then I climb over him.

The kisses are good.

Of course, they are good.

Because they are us.

My heart speeds, flying faster and faster. The world is succulent lips and a talented tongue and unshaven cheeks that scrape against mine and remind me that I’m kissing a man, that I’m kissing him. The world is firm hands and a flat torso and a hard cock poking against me. The world is blue eyes that gaze at me stunned when I leave his lips for breath.

The world is him, and he is wonderful.

“We can’t do this,” he says.

“I know,” I tell him because he has a point. My Sebastian isn’t unintelligent.

“It’s a bad idea.”

“Terrible.” I dive into his mouth again, sucking on his tongue, and rolling him over so we are side by side. Our legs tangle, and my cock reaches to touch his. I am hard. A rock. A mountain. One of those indestructible tanks built in military factories with decades of technology from the brightest minds in the world behind me.