CHAPTER THREE
Luke Crawford.
Luke fucking Crawford of all people was standing on the doorstep of Sebastian’s florist shop.
No way was right.
Sebastian hadn’t had a clue the dude was anything but a dyed in the wool conservative hetero asshole.
But as the look of recognition settled over Crawford’s face and he turned to leave, Sebastian blurted out, “Wait, don’t go,” before he could stop himself.
Crawford paused but he didn’t turn around, just glanced over his shoulder with a frown. “What?”
“I said, don’t go.” Sebastian wasn’t even sure why he’d said it, only he had so many fucking questions right now.
“Why?” Crawford did turn now, but only to cross his arms over his chest, the sleeves of his white shirt straining against the width of his biceps, cuffs rolled up to reveal his tattooed forearms, the leather of his jacket creaking a little as it was crushed against his chest. “You don’t seriously expect me to stay, do you? ”
“Why not?” Sebastian countered.
Crawford scoffed. “Because you’re a fucking asshole?”
“Oh yeah, and you’re some prince of a guy,” Sebastian said with a laugh. The dude had been such an asshole his whole career.
Most hockey fans hated him.
“I never claimed to be a prince. But you’re the one who fucking shows up at every goddamn Harriers game just to get in my goddamn face.” He glowered, the look made all the more menacing by the dim light inside the shop that sent weird shadows across it. “Did you know?”
“Know what?” Sebastian asked, confused.
“Who I am.”
“What? On the app?” Sebastian frowned.
Crawford nodded.
“No.” Sebastian laughed again because Jesus, this whole situation was fucking absurd. What were the odds? “Fuck, no. I mean, I guess it makes sense now. Why you have your tattoos blurred in your pics, and no head shot and all that, but I had no fucking clue it was you.”
Crawford studied his face with narrowed eyes for a moment before he nodded, seeming to accept his answer.
“I take it you didn’t know it was me either?” Sebastian asked.
Crawford snorted. “No. I sure as fuck wouldn’t have come all the way over here if I did. Looks like tonight’s just been shitty all around, huh?”
“Dude, at least your team won tonight,” Sebastian countered. Not that he particularly rooted for the Comets. He was a Rockets fan through and through.
But now that he was living in Boston, he was always happy to root against Luke Crawford. The rest of the Harriers were fine, but Crawford had injured Nicky in the last playoff game between Boston and New York.
Since the cheap shot to Nicky’s head, he’d barely played and the Rockets had been on a downward trajectory.
“We sure did,” Crawford said with a little smirk. “Mopped the floor with Portland tonight too.”
“You really are a fucking asshole, aren’t you?” Sebastian snapped.
Crawford shrugged. “So a lot of people say.”
They stared at each other for a tense, awkward moment.
“So, uh, what now?” Sebastian asked.
“I fucking leave and find someone else on the app, I guess,” Crawford groused, pulling out his phone. He scowled at the screen.
“Yeah, good luck with that,” Sebastian said drily. “This time of night it’s usually all bots and shit.”
Crawford huffed, but he didn’t argue.
“Look, I’m not happy with the way this turned out either,” Sebastian pointed out. “I was counting on getting off tonight.”
“So was I.”
They glared at each other and a flush of heat went through Sebastian.
Because while he’d never really thought of Crawford in a sexual context before, now that he was, he had to admit the guy was kind of … hot.
The size of him. The tattoos. The dark beard and the glowering expression.
Sorry, Nicky, he thought, a twinge of guilt coursing through him. Though, hadn’t Nicky always said that injuries were the price an athlete paid for dreaming big?
“I guess we could go through with it anyway,” Sebastian said slowly.
Crawford stared blankly at him. “You’re shitting me.”
“No. I mean, why not?” Honestly there were a thousand reasons why not, but Sebastian’s dick didn’t seem terribly interested in any of those arguments.
“Because you’ve made it your fucking life’s mission to annoy the shit out of me during games,” Crawford pointed out.
“That’s no worse than you making it your life’s mission to play like an absolute scumbag every opportunity you get.”
“You’d fuckin’ love me if I played for the Rockets and you know it,” Crawford shot back.
“Love?” Sebastian scoffed. “Uhh, that might be a stretch. I’d still think you were a jackass for playing as recklessly as you do. I just wouldn’t hate that we won a little more often.”
“So you admit I’m valuable to the team.”
“I don’t admit shit,” Sebastian said with a scoff.
“Except that you still want to suck my dick.” Crawford lifted an eyebrow.
Sebastian swallowed hard, embarrassment and arousal mingling in his body as his cock stirred at the thought. “Yeah.”
“So what’s in it for you?”
Sebastian shrugged. “I like sucking dick.”
Crawford snorted. “Sure, bud.” But he glanced around as if checking to be sure no one could overhear them.
Made sense, if he was in the closet, or whatever. At least—as far as Sebastian knew anyway—he wasn’t married. There had never been a whiff about his personal life in the news or anywhere online. No wives. No long-term girlfriends. No one.
Sebastian sighed. “Well, you also said you’d give me a handjob after, so there’s that, but I’m serious. I like sucking dick, and it’s been a long, frustrating day. I could use a couple of minutes to clear my head and well, we’re both short on options tonight.”
“Isn’t it usually the other way around?”
Sebastian lifted an eyebrow. “Isn’t what the other way around?”
“Getting your cock sucked clears your head, not doing the sucking,” Crawford explained.
“Not as much for me,” Sebastian admitted. “Why? You offering to suck me off?”
“Not a fucking chance, dude.”
“That’s what I thought.”
Sebastian had met the type before. The closeted guys were all the same.
They’d fuck a guy, get their dick sucked, but they’d never suck him off or get fucked.
And they definitely never spent the night after.
They also tended to be pushy and demanding, which Sebastian had an unfortunate weakness for.
His sister was right. He had really shitty taste in men.
Which was why he hadn’t just let Crawford turn around and leave.
Did he like Luke Crawford? Hell no.
Did he have a sneaking suspicion that sex with him would be really hot? Yes. Yes, he did.
“So, even though you know who I am, you actually want to suck my dick,” Crawford repeated, his voice low. “And have me give you a handie?”
“That is what we agreed to,” Sebastian pointed out.
“Yeah, but that’s before I knew you were you.”
“Look, do whatever you want. I’m tired, I’ve had a long day—”
“Fuckin’ tell me about it,” Crawford groused. “You didn’t just play three periods of hockey. You just sat on your ass and chirped me.”
“Yeah, well, I got up fucking early and was on my feet all day working here. And I want to get to sleep as much as you do.” Sebastian crossed his arms over his chest, mirroring Crawford’s posture.
“So make a fucking choice. Either come in or get the fuck out but stop standing in my doorway and letting all the heat in the shop out.”
To Sebastian’s surprise, the brusque tone worked. The tight set of Crawford’s shoulders eased and he glanced around again, then stepped inside.
The door closed behind him with a musical jingle, but when Sebastian turned to go upstairs, Crawford didn’t follow.
“What?” Sebastian asked, turning back, not hiding the annoyance in his voice. “What’s the fucking problem now?”
Crawford glowered. “How do I know you won’t post shit online about this? Or try to blackmail me?”
“Because I’ve got fucking better things to do with my time,” Sebastian snapped. Jesus. Paranoid much?
“C’mon, you’ve gotta admit, it would be tempting, right?”
“To show the world what an asshole you really are?” Sebastian said drily. “Sure would. But I think most of them know that by now already. And I mean it. I have better things to do with my time than to out you.”
“Money would be tempting too.”
Sebastian rolled his eyes. “I own a small boutique chain of floral shops in two major cities and regularly work with high-end clients. I’m doing fine. I don’t need to blackmail you for your fucking NHL money or whatever.”
Sebastian turned to go.
At this point, he wasn’t sure if he cared if Crawford followed or not. No sex could be worth this much effort. Especially when it involved a guy as obnoxious as Luke Crawford.
Was Sebastian curious to get his mouth on Crawford’s dick? Yeah, fine, he was. It had looked really goddamn good in the photos. Mouthwatering, even. But Sebastian didn’t want it that bad.
“I’ll agree to come up on one condition,” Crawford called after him.
Sebastian stifled a sigh and tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling. “What’s that?”
“Leave your phone down here.”
Sebastian turned back to face him. “What? No fucking way. My niece is sick. You know she is, because you saw her when I brought her to that game recently. I have photo proof of that. But I’m not inviting you upstairs to get proof you hook up with men.
So no, I’m not leaving my phone somewhere I might miss a call from my sister, if Harper takes a turn for the worse or something tonight. ”
It wouldn’t be the first time Sebastian had made a trip in the middle of the night to meet his sister at the hospital.
And, unfortunately, it probably wouldn’t be the last.
Crawford opened his mouth—presumably to argue—but Sebastian crossed his arms over his chest and glared.
“I’ll leave my phone on the kitchen counter upstairs, out of reach but within earshot, and that’s as much as I’m willing to compromise.
” He turned to go. “And lock the fucking front door behind you before you come up.”
As Luke twisted the old-fashioned dead bolt to lock the front door of the shop, he had no idea why he’d agreed to this.