Just a Bit Wicked (Straight Guys Book 7)

by Alessandra Hazard

  But while his heart and his body were fully on board, he was a little queasy at the idea of a relationship with a man and doubted he would be any good for Sebastian.

  Vlad sighed. Well, listening to his brain only had turned him into one miserable fuck.

  Maybe it was time to be irrational and go for what he wanted.

  The question was whether he could convince Sebastian that they would work together when he couldn’t entirely convince even himself.

  Sebastian had said they could be friends.

  At the time he had discarded the idea as ridiculous. For the first time, Vlad gave it some real thought. If they were friends, he wouldn’t be able to touch, but he would be able to see Sebastian, to look at him as much as he wanted. This way he wouldn’t hurt Sebastian by dicking him around.

  Maybe they really were better off as friends.

  Now if only he could figure out how to keep his greedy hands to himself.

  Chapter 26

  The house was lit up by Christmas lights.

  Vlad stared at it for a good five minutes before slowly walking toward the front door.

  He could see silhouettes of people in the windows and tried to imagine Christmas celebrations. He’d never celebrated Christmas in his life. He didn’t have a family to celebrate it with. Not to mention that in Russia Christmas was celebrated in January and it was mainly a religious event, the importance of the holiday nowhere as big.

  He’d never felt more like an outsider than he had lately, as everyone around him seemed to be immersed in Christmas festivities. Even Roman was humoring Luke and celebrating Christmas with him.

  Vlad stopped in front of the door and hesitated. Maybe he should go and return some other day. As he understood it, Christmas was a family holiday. He was unlikely to be welcome.

  But he had been putting off this visit for too long. He had toyed with the idea of calling Sebastian, but he had no idea what to say. He needed to see him. He couldn’t wait any longer or his Christmas present for Sebastian would be useless—if Sebastian even accepted it.

  Vlad took a deep breath and knocked.

  A few minutes passed before the door finally opened. It was Sebastian’s sister.

  Julia’s smile faded when she saw him. “You!”

  Vlad raised his brows. “Me?”

  “What do you want?” Julia said. Her eyes were just like her brother’s—dark and big—but Vlad had never seen such a cold expression in Sebastian’s. If Vlad hadn’t been on the receiving end of Roman’s ice-cold glares for half of his life, he might have been intimidated by hers.

  “Is Sebastian here?” Vlad said.

  “What’s it to you?” Julia said, stepping out and closing the door behind her. She crossed her arms over her chest.

  Vlad felt like an asshole wearing a winter jacket while she was in a thin cardigan. It wasn’t particularly cold, but it was snowing.

  “Here, take my jacket,” he said, unzipping it, but her cutting words stopped him.

  “I don’t want anything from you,” Julia said. “Leave. You have some nerve to show up here.”

  “I’m not going anywhere without seeing Sebastian,” he said, a little confused by her hostility. Even if Sebastian had told his sister what had transpired between them, he must have told her that their relationship had been casual.

  Julia pursed her lips. “What do you need him for? Need someone to suck your prick?”

  Vlad stared at her. “I’m here as a friend,” he said at last.

  She laughed. “Right.”

  “He did say we could be friends,” Vlad said, reining in his temper. It wouldn’t do to be rude to Sebastian’s sister. “I want to be his friend.” Want was probably too strong a word, but he wasn’t lying.

  Julia scoffed. “Please. You can’t be friends with Sebastian.”

  Vlad gritted his teeth. “And why the hell not?”

  “Because Sebastian’s friend wouldn’t look at him like he’s starved and Sebastian is a three-course meal.”

  “I didn’t look at him that way,” Vlad said stiffly.

  Julia gave him an unimpressed look. “I was actually in the room with you two. You looked at him like you wanted to push him on the table and fuck him right there.” She made a face. “Gross.”

  Vlad shoved his hands into his pockets, fighting back a blush. “That was before.”

  Liar.

  Julia stared at him. “Why are you here?”

  “I told you—I want to be his friend.”

  “Why are you here?” she said again, as if he hadn’t said anything.

  Vlad pressed his lips together. “I don’t get why you’re interrogating me like I’m his bad ex or something. Sebastian and I had a casual thing.”

  “Right,” she said, her expression hardening. “Have a good day. You will not be seeing my brother.” She turned away and put a hand on the door handle.

  “Julia,” Vlad croaked. “I need to see him.”

  She turned back slowly and studied him for a long moment.

  “Please,” he said. “I miss him.”

  Her face softened. “If you hurt him—”

  “I won’t,” Vlad said. “I’m telling the truth: I’m here as a friend.”

  She sighed, muttered something under her breath, and disappeared into the house, leaving him staring at the door.

  He waited.

  The wait seemed endless.

  When he started thinking Sebastian wouldn’t be coming out, the door finally opened again. Vlad felt his mouth go dry.

  Sebastian’s dark eyes stared at Vlad with an unreadable expression. Sebastian was wearing a thick, oversized green pullover and old, threadbare jeans. His hair wasn’t styled. It had gotten longer, falling to his shoulders in soft waves. Vlad wanted to bury his fingers in those raven strands, pull him close, and kiss him until he could satisfy the bottomless hunger in the pit of his stomach.

  “Hey,” Sebastian said, breaking the silence. There was something wary and uncertain about the way he looked at Vlad.

  “Hi,” Vlad said hoarsely. Friends. He was here as a friend. He’d better remember that.

  They stared at each other.

  “How have you been?” Vlad said.

  “Good, thanks,” Sebastian said, running a hand through his hair. “Hermione had two boy kittens.”

  It took Vlad a moment to remember what Sebastian was talking about. Right. Sebastian’s cat.

  He chuckled. “Don’t tell me you really called them Rose and Hugo.”

  “I called them Gryff and Slyth,” Sebastian said, smiling and looking very proud of himself. He was ridiculous.

  Vlad wanted to kiss him. He hoped he didn’t look as fond as he felt.

  They stared at each other some more, neither speaking.

  Vlad said, “You haven’t even texted me.”

  Sebastian’s smile disappeared. “You haven’t texted me, either.”

  “If we are to be friends, we should do better,” Vlad said.

  Sebastian dropped his gaze. “We should.”

  Squashing down his disappointment, Vlad retrieved an envelope from his pocket. “This is for you. Merry Christmas.”

  Sebastian’s eyes lit up with curiosity and pleasure. “What is it?”

  “Two tickets for Chelsea-Manchester City game tomorrow,” Vlad said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I thought we could go together. Hang out. If you want.”

  Sebastian beamed at him. “Wow, really? Of course I do! Thank you!” He leaned in and pecked Vlad’s cheek.

  They both kind of froze.

  “Right,” Sebastian said, stepping away and clasping his hands behind his back.

  It took Vlad a moment to regain his control over his brain. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow, then.”

  “Great,” Sebastian said, grabbing the door handle behind him. “Thanks, see you tomorrow.” He all but fled back into the house.

  Vlad touched his cheek before letting his hand fall and balling it into a fist.

 
Friends. Just friends.

  Right.

  Chapter 27

  It wasn’t a date. It wasn’t a date. It wasn’t a date.

  Maybe if Sebastian repeated that often enough, the butterflies in his stomach would finally go away.

  It wasn’t a date. They were hanging out as friends. He and Vlad were friends. That was the only thing they could be. He shouldn’t—mustn’t—make it weird.

  The last month had been weird enough as it was. He had been plagued with what ifs, feeling off balance and frustrated with himself. Even spending Christmas with his family hadn’t fixed him. Thankfully, his parents seemed oblivious.

  But Julia hadn’t been as easily fooled. She had noticed his mood immediately upon his arrival, cornered him in his room and forced him to spill.

  He had told her everything.

  After Sebastian finished speaking, his sister didn’t roll her eyes or say, “I told you so.” Instead, she looked at him a little sadly and said,

  “Do you remember that Christmas we spent at Aunt Virginia’s?”

  Sebastian frowned. “Vaguely? I was eleven or twelve, I think.”

  Julia nodded. “Aunt Virginia made all of the kids make a Christmas wish and write it down on a piece of paper. Aunt Stella was supposed to be your Secret Santa but ended up asking you to make another wish. Do you remember what your original wish was?”

  Sebastian searched his memory but it was blank. “Nope.”

  His sister smiled, a little amused and a lot sad. “You wanted epic love.” She chuckled. “I remember making fun of you for being such a girl.” She looked at him in the eye. “I wish you’d never met Mike.”

  Sebastian swallowed and looked down at his hands. “I don’t know how it’s relevant.” He changed the subject and Julia let him, but before she left his room, she hugged him tightly, the way they hadn’t hugged in years, and said quietly, “Don’t let a past mistake or the fear of a future one ruin your life. Don’t let him win.” And then she was gone, leaving Sebastian with more questions and doubts.

  Things had been weird even at work. He had taken to hiding whenever he crossed paths with Antonio. The Italian didn’t seem to understand why they couldn’t hook up again, and Sebastian didn’t know how to explain what he didn’t understand himself. He was a young, single man who loved sex. There was no reason for him not to have sex with Antonio—or with anyone else. So why the hell couldn’t he say yes to Antonio?

  Because he felt taken.

  It was ridiculous, it was messed up, it was only in his head, but he felt taken. If he closed his eyes, he could almost feel Vlad’s hands on his hips, Vlad’s mouth on his inner thighs, sucking love bites into his skin, marking him up, his touch intimate and proprietary. He wanted to be Vlad’s—he, who had always rolled his eyes at possessive behavior and macho bullshit.

  It was ridiculous. He wasn’t Vlad’s, and Vlad wasn’t his. The only thing they could have was friendship.

  Sebastian repeated it to himself like a mantra as Vlad drove them to Stamford Bridge. He and Vlad in an enclosed space turned out to be a bad, bad idea. Sebastian found himself blabbering like a nervous teenager, trying not to stare at Vlad too much. If someone asked him what they were talking about, he would have no clue.

  Christ, how was he supposed to be friends with this man? He couldn’t stop staring at Vlad’s strong, large hands on the steering wheel, and missing them, missing their touch. His lips tingled, missing Vlad’s lips. His body missed Vlad’s. Just thinking about kissing Vlad had Sebastian digging his fingers into his thigh to stop himself from reaching out and clinging to Vlad like a monkey in heat.

  When they finally arrived, Sebastian couldn’t leave the car fast enough. They were let in through the staff entrance instead of waiting in the long queue to get into the stadium.

  “I know the owner of Chelsea,” Vlad said with a shrug when Sebastian had asked.

  Right. The owner of the club was Russian.

  “Let’s go find out seats,” Vlad said, guiding him with a hand on Sebastian’s lower back.

  It made Sebastian feel funny. He told himself not to be silly. Friends did that. It was no biggie, or at least it wasn’t supposed to be. Sebastian probably wasn’t supposed to feel the touch so acutely through his coat.

  He was both relieved and disappointed when they reached their seats in the Matthew Harding Stand and Vlad dropped his hand.

  “VIP tickets were sold out,” Vlad said.

  “I’m glad they were,” Sebastian said, taking his seat and looking around excitedly. “Those VIP seats aren’t really my thing. I love the atmosphere here. I love sitting with hardcore fans who actually know and sing the songs, you know?”

  “Are you a hardcore fan, then?” Vlad said, looking at him curiously.

  Sebastian squirmed a little in his seat, trying to ignore the pleased little hum in his chest. It probably wasn’t healthy how much he liked having Vlad’s attention focused on him and only him.

  “Since early childhood, but I don’t go to games as much as I used to,” he replied, watching the few empty seats around them fill quickly. The atmosphere was already amazing, the fans singing the teams’ songs as the players did pre-match warm-ups.

  “Why not?” Vlad said.

  Catching his lip between his teeth, Sebastian looked at him. “My face was pretty recognizable around here after I participated in a BBC documentary about homophobia in football. Obviously I’m not a football player, but I have friends in the closet who are. I spoke for them because they can’t speak for themselves.” He smiled wryly. “Most football fans probably didn’t appreciate it that I called them close-minded homophobic jerks. I got a huge backlash on Twitter for daring to say what everyone thought. It actually might be the reason the cult targeted me.” Sebastian glanced around, catching a few hostile glares, and fidgeted. “You probably don’t want to be seen with me here.”

  Vlad was frowning, his expression grim as he looked around. “You should have told me about it before we came.”

  “Sorry,” Sebastian said, haltingly, averting his gaze. “You can go if you want. I know you don’t want people to think you’re gay.”

  “Hey,” Vlad said, putting his large hand on his shoulder. “Look at me.”

  When Sebastian did, Vlad gave him a hard look. “Don’t be silly. I’m not going anywhere. You should have told me because I would have gotten us more secure seats; that’s all.” He grimaced. “I know I was an ass to you, but did you really think I was going to get up and leave you alone?”

  Sebastian stared at him and realized the answer was no. He hadn’t actually expected Vlad to throw him to the wolves. He’d stopped coming to football matches for a reason: while other fans never physically attacked him, their animosity and verbal abuse usually ruined all the fun. He had felt too unsafe to attend games on his own, and he wouldn’t have come if he really thought Vlad would leave him alone.

  “No,” Sebastian said softly, smiling a little, and dragged his eyes away from Vlad before he could say something stupid like I feel safe with you here. He looked at the pitch and said with forced enthusiasm, “The match is about to start!”

  His forced enthusiasm became genuine as the referee blew the whistle, signaling the start of the match. Sebastian focused his attention on the game and soon lost himself in the excitement of it. He hadn’t lied to Vlad: he didn’t attend football matches anymore and being at one was a rare treat for him. Unlike the last time he’d been at a Chelsea match, he felt relaxed and safe with Vlad by his side.

  As the first half neared its end, Vlad touched his hand. “Your hands are blue. Are you cold?”

  Only then did Sebastian realize his teeth were chattering. He had been so engrossed in the match he hadn’t even noticed he was freezing.

  “Yeah, freezing,” Sebastian murmured, frowning down at the Saint Laurent coat he had painstakingly chosen this morning after an hour of trying on all his coats and jackets—something Vlad didn’t need to know about. While the coat looked g
ood on him, it did little to protect him from the freezing wind.

  “Aren’t you cold?” Sebastian said miserably. Vlad had only a thin jacket on but looked unbothered by the weather.

  Vlad shook his head with a little smirk. “This is like a lovely spring day in Siberia.”

  Rolling his eyes, Sebastian swatted him on the arm. “Drop the smug look, will you? Yeah, you’re a tough Russian and I’m a delicate English flower, yadda yadda.”

  Vlad was outright grinning now. “Don’t you have gloves, English flower?” he said, taking Sebastian’s freezing hand between his palms and eyeing the knuckles.

  “No,” Sebastian said, watching Vlad’s thick fingers stroke and knead his slimmer ones. A squirmy, fluttering feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. He looked up at Vlad’s face. “Do you?”

  A corner of Vlad’s lips twitched. “If I did, would you ask me to give them to you?”

  “You should just give them to me so I wouldn’t have to ask,” Sebastian said with a little smile, and fuck, were they flirting? Abort, abort. They could not be flirting.

  Snorting, Vlad let go of Sebastian’s hand and pulled a pair of leather gloves out of his pocket.

  “Why do you have gloves if you aren’t cold?” Sebastian said.

  “You never know when you need to break into someone’s place and not get caught,” Vlad said, offering the gloves to Sebastian.

  That would be a joke coming from ninety-nine percent of people, but Sebastian had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn’t a joke at all.

  “You aren’t serious, are you?” Sebastian said and only received a shrug in response, which could mean any number of things.

  Sighing exasperatedly—and hopefully not too fondly—Sebastian took the gloves and put them on. They were a little too big but fit okay.

  “Thanks,” he murmured.

  Vlad stared at Sebastian’s hands for a moment before nodding and looking away.

  Sebastian turned back to the pitch, feeling a little unsettled. He wasn’t sure how to behave around a Vlad who cared about whether he was cold or not. He almost wished Vlad had kept acting like an asshole toward him. Almost.