Chapter 38
SEBASTIAN
“Thanks for meeting with me on a Sunday.” Kendra gave me a warm smile in greeting and slid into the seat across from me, pushing a fresh coffee my way. “I figured you’d be downtown today anyway.”
“Taylor’s last home game before the holiday break,” I said, lifting the cup and taking a small sip. It was still too hot for anything more than that.
“I like him,” she said approvingly. “He seems incredibly sweet.”
“The sweetest,” I agreed.
I’d been walking around in a fog since the blowup with my parents last week, and Taylor had been on a mission to pull me out of it.
Just two days ago, he’d dragged me to some Christmas tree farm where we spent forever debating the merits of different tree species.
Then, just when I thought we were leaving with a Balsam fir strapped to the top of his Range Rover, he led me around the back of a big red barn to where three goats were head-butting each other and climbing over everything.
A brown-and-white one came bounding over to me, immediately going for my jacket.
“Sugarplum, no!” shouted an attractive blond man wrangling the other two. “Leave that man’s Ralph Lauren alone.” I felt my face crack into a smile, the first real one I’d experienced in days.
We’d spent another hour there, striking up a conversation with the man—Harrison—and his boyfriend, Jeremy, a former hockey player turned lumberjack. We even had plans to go back in the new year for a cheese tasting event that Harrison was hosting.
But it wasn’t all grand gestures and field trips pulling me out of my funk.
It was the smaller things. The way Taylor didn’t push when I went quiet, how he’d kiss the top of my head on his way up to bed, never commenting on the late nights I spent trying to track down my sister, or the way he’d draw me a hot bath when I felt myself starting to spiral.
He really was the best thing that’d ever happened to me.
Neither of us had been in a hurry to discuss what happened after the holidays, and I could feel that conversation looming between us every minute of every day.
At some point, I’d have to go back to Washington.
Not that I was necessarily looking forward to it.
While the gossip around Wyatt and me had somewhat died down, so had incoming job opportunities.
I hadn’t let myself worry too much about that yet, mostly because it felt like the least of my current concerns.
Kendra wrapped her hands around her mug and looked at me with that focused, no-nonsense expression I’d come to recognize over the last several months. “I’ll get right to the point. I want you to be my chief of staff.”
I couldn’t help it—I barked out a laugh. Talk about irony. “You’re kidding.”
Kendra raised an eyebrow. “Have you ever known me to kid about something like this?”
“No,” I admitted, sobering quickly, setting my coffee to the side. “I have to admit, I wasn’t expecting this.”
Should I have? Maybe. Why else would she have asked to meet today?
Maybe if I hadn’t been so caught up in everything else going on in my life right now, I would have seen it coming.
“I know it’s not what you were doing before, and I’m not going to pretend Portland is Washington. But from day one, you've understood what my constituents need, and then you almost single-handedly turned my campaign around to deliver on that. You’re exceptionally good at this, Sebastian.”
She paused, letting the compliment land, which I appreciated more than I could say. I’d spent the last several days feeling like a fraud. It felt good to have someone remind me that just because I’d missed the warning signs with my family, I wasn’t completely clueless.
The brackets around her mouth relaxed, the sharp, professional focus softening into something much more personal. The kind of look you’d give a friend who was going through it.
“I also get the impression you might not be in a hurry to go back.”
The accuracy of her observation was what made Kendra such an effective politician.
She was able to read between the lines, see things and understand them beyond surface-level bullshit.
It was what had made Wyatt so effective, too, at the beginning.
But Kendra possessed a type of warmth he’d never had.
I wasn’t worried about ambition leading her astray.
“You’re not wrong,” I said with a wry smile.
She nodded. “So. What do you say?”
I didn’t even have to think about my answer.
“Yes,” I said. “Absolutely yes.”
Marauders’ players’ spouses, partners, and parents clustered in small groups, kids chasing each other around the room, while a toddler made a determined beeline for the snack table, his dad scooping him up and blowing a raspberry on his belly.
For the first time ever, I wasn’t camped out near the back, trying not to draw attention to myself. Trying to convince myself it wasn’t weird for me to be there, that best friends and former roommates did this kind of thing all the time.
This time, I was there as Taylor Morrison’s boyfriend, and everybody in the room knew it.
Taylor came through the door riding the high of their win, his hair damp from the shower, his eyes sweeping left and right until they found me. His whole face lit up, and he crossed the space in about four strides.
“Hi,” he said, kissing me hello completely unselfconsciously, one hand cupping the back of my neck like we’d been doing this in public for years.
“You played so well,” I told him when he pulled back.
“Yeah?” He dropped his voice to a low, sexy rumble, his grin turning wicked. “You gonna give me a reward for a job well done, baby?”
“Speaking of jobs …” I said, barely able to contain my excitement. “I just got offered one.”
All at once, Taylor’s face fell. “Oh?” He scratched the side of his cheek, his eyes darting away and going unfocused before he reluctantly dragged them back to me. "When does it start?”
I knew that look. He was already doing the math, thinking about flight schedules, potential time zone differences, and how many days a month we could realistically hope to spend together. I also knew he wasn’t going to ask me not to go.
“January,” I said, feeling a little bit like a dick for making him sweat it out.
He nodded. “Okay, so soon.”
“Yeah,” I nodded back, my tone matching his as I fought a grin.
“Where to now?”
I gave up holding back my smile. “Down the street, actually. I’m going to be Kendra’s Chief of Staff.”
The shift was immediate—his chin dropped, his mouth opened, and for a full second, he just stared at me like I’d said something in a language he didn’t quite understand.
Then he dropped his bag and let out a whoop that turned every head in the room our way.
He lifted me clean off the ground, spinning us once before setting me back down, laughing the entire time.
He grabbed my face in both hands. “Are you serious?”
“Completely serious.”
“You dick!” He kissed me hard. “You had me going there.” He kissed me a second time before pulling back and scanning the room. “Lavoie!”
Marc Lavoie glanced over from across the room, where his arm was draped across the shoulder of his wife, Gabi.
“That place you guys went for your anniversary?” Taylor called out. “What’s it called?”
“Fore Street, why?”
“Is it any good?”
“Incredible,” he hollered back, Gabi nodding beside him. “You’ll need a reservation,” she added.
“He’s not wrong.” David had once complained about having to wait two weeks for an opening.
“Gimme your phone,” he said, holding out his hand, palm up.
“Where’s yours?” I asked, already digging into my pocket.
“Shoved in my bag somewhere.”
He pulled up the number, glancing up at me almost shyly, and hit the call button. When someone picked up on the other end, he straightened slightly.
“Hi, um. This is Taylor Morrison. I play for the Marauders.” He hummed in agreement at whatever the person on the other end of the line said.
“It was a great game tonight. In fact, I was kind of hoping to celebrate.” He paused for a long beat.
“No, not the whole team. Just two of us.” The corner of his mouth pulled up, his eyes softening. “Seven o’clock?”
I looked at my watch and nodded. It’d be tight, but if we left in the next three minutes, we could make it.
“I appreciate that. Thank you.” He hung up and handed my phone back to me.
I looked at him, my brow raised as I pocketed it. “Did you just name-drop yourself?”
A faint flush crept into his cheeks as he picked his bag up off the floor. “I’ve never done that before.”
“It was kind of hot,” I said, draping my arm over his shoulder and turning us toward the exit.
Several minutes later, we were seated at a table in the far corner of the room, the din of conversation around us making it so that no single discussion stood out. In a crowded restaurant, we managed to feel like we existed in our own private world.
“My condo should sell pretty quickly.”
Taylor’s thumb traced a slow circle on the back of my hand. “What does that mean, timeline-wise?”
We were holding hands. In a restaurant. In public.
And I was smiling so wide my cheeks had started to ache.
“It means I could probably be out of there by mid-February if someone were willing to put up with me in their house while I figured out a more permanent arrangement.”
The grin that broke out across his face was almost giddy. “Funny you should mention that. I know a guy looking for a roommate.”
“Do you?” I asked, playing along.
He nodded. “Big house. Decent neighborhood. Owner’s very accommodating.”
“Accommodating, how?” I smirked, enjoying the playful turn our conversation had taken.
He squeezed my hand, the silly grin transforming into one that was softer. Sweeter. “Are we really doing this? Moving in together?”
I turned my hand over beneath his, lacing our fingers together in a restaurant we’d never been to before, in a city I hadn’t planned on staying in, with a man I’d somehow managed to find twice in one lifetime.
“Twenty-two-year-old me would never believe it.”
“I can barely believe it now.”
The waiter appeared, refilled our water glasses, and then disappeared again. Taylor and I never took our eyes off each other.
“I’ll need to go back pretty soon to figure out what to pack or sell,” I said.
“I can go with you.” He slid his hand free and moved to reach into his pocket, presumably to check his calendar app. He frowned, then patted his other pocket. “Shit. I left my phone in my bag."
“We’ll figure out the schedule,” I told him. “We’ll make it work.”
“Together.”
“Together,” I confirmed.
Nearly three hours later, we walked the seven blocks back to the player parking garage with our hands linked together, our breath fogging in the cold. Once along the way, Taylor stopped us under a streetlight to kiss, and it didn’t even occur to me to panic about being seen.
By the time we made it back to his house, it was close to eleven o’clock, but I wasn’t even remotely tired. I was wired with the thrill of possibility, of knowing that something good had come from all the bad.
The front door had barely closed behind us before Taylor had me pressed against it, kissing me like he’d been thinking about this all night.
I laughed against his mouth as he undid my belt. “Someone’s impatient.”
“Someone’s wearing too many clothes,” he said, lowering my zipper and dropping to his knees, pulling my pants and underwear down as he went.
My cock sprang free, and he wrapped his fist around it, stroking it slowly and looking up at me, his hazel eyes dark with lust. “I’ve wanted you in my mouth all night. ”
My head thunked back against the door as he took me straight to the back of his throat, no hesitation, like he really had been looking forward to it, his mouth making wet, obscene noises as he bobbed up and down.
“So greedy,” I murmured as he pressed his nose against my pelvis and relaxed his throat to swallow around me.
My knees nearly buckled from how good it felt.
I grabbed his shoulder to steady myself, feeling his muscles flex under my grip when he pulled back to suck in a deep breath before going right back to it—faster, harder, sloppier.
His tongue was relentless, swirling around the head, then flattening along the underside, and tracing the vein that ran the length of me before dipping into my slit.
“Fuck, I’m gonna—” I choked out.
I came hard, my whole body jerking as I spilled into his mouth. He sucked me through it, swallowing every drop before giving me one last, thorough lick, then popping off and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Holy shit,” I said, my breath coming hard and fast.
My legs did give out then, and I slumped down the door until my ass hit the floor. “You’re too good at that.”
He climbed onto my thighs, settling his weight across my lap, his lips swollen and his face flushed. He looked so fucking pleased with himself, I had no choice but to laugh.
He cut me off, crashing his mouth to mine, his tongue pushing into my mouth, deep and messy. I could taste the sharp, salty tang of my cum as his tongue slid against mine.
“Your turn,” I murmured against his lips.
He pulled back and muttered, “I … uh … it’s good. I’m good.”
“What?”
His eyes dropped down to his lap, and my gaze followed. The front of his blue dress pants sported a wet patch.
My lips quirked to the side. “You came just from blowing me?”
His cheeks turned red. “I really love sucking your dick.”
I laughed, so fucking happy, and curled forward to kiss him. “And I really love how much you love sucking my dick.”
He ducked his head, laughing quietly, then planted both hands on my chest and pushed himself to his feet. He reached down to pull me up after him.
He headed upstairs, and I followed closely behind, gripping the high, tight globes of his ass and squeezing. “God, I love your hockey butt,” I murmured at the top of the landing, leaning in close and nuzzling my nose against the back of his neck.
He tilted his head to the side, giving me better access to the spot just below his ear that drove him wild when I nibbled at it.
“Come love my hockey butt in the shower?”
“Mmm,” I hummed against his skin. “Now we’re talking.”