Page 6 of Stay A Little Longer
Chapter Three
Trent blinked at the sudden brightness of the room, squinting his eyes and rubbing his sore jaw. The fucker had clocked him and son-of-a-bitch it hurt. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been hit. Had he ever been punched in the face? He didn’t think so. But this bastard had hit him square in the jaw within seconds of waking him from the dark recesses of sleep. Trent blinked again as his attacker came into focus and tried to figure out who the hell he was, what was going on, and why his dick stirred at the sight of the guy eyeing him like he was a mirage.
Well, the last one was easy enough to answer.
His dick was hard-up. Literally. He hadn’t been laid in way too long. He’d just been hanging out in dream world where one of his favorite fantasies was pinning a guy to a bed and making him scream Trent’s name. Then he’d woken up to this guy, the one who was now sitting on the edge of the bed in nothing but a pair of navy boxers, and the bastard was hot.
His dark hair was short and spiky, as if he’d been running his hands through it. He had dark brows that were furrowed over a set of equally dark eyes. Those eyes must have been brown but they looked almost black as they skated over Trent from top to bottom, sending a shiver of awareness down his spine and straight to his already hard cock. Which was impossible to hide in nothing but his briefs.
He swallowed hard as he watched the guy lick his bottom lip. Trent had to tear his gaze away from that mouth but that just meant taking in a lean, muscular body. His cock twitched so he shut his eyes.
“Uh… you’re Trent Thorne.”
He only opened his eyes when the guy spoke again, his voice low, rough and more than a little bit incredulous. The guy was still staring at him openly but he’d stood up. Trent blinked. Okay, he wasn’t still asleep. He wasn’t dreaming. This was actually happening. He’d have thought the ache in his jaw should have convinced him of that but it hadn’t.
Because his dream guy was standing across the room. Tall, dark, lean, muscular, handsome as fuck? Only, Trent wasn’t dreaming. Who the hell was this guy?
“Yeah.” He swallowed past the lump in his throat, “And you are?”
“Uh…” The guy’s eyes dropped but he forced them back up quickly and his dark lashes fluttered slightly, “You’re Trent Thorne.”
Trent tried and failed to hide a grin. He might be groggy from sleep. He might be confused and disoriented. But he wasn’t the only one completely off his game.
His own eyes dropped slightly before he could force them back up. Good lord the man was gorgeous. All muscles and planes and abs that showed he was devoted to a gym. And he was wearing nothing but a pair of boxers. Not that this guy seemed to be worried all that much about his lack of clothing. He was too busy gaping at Trent like a fish out of water with those gorgeous dark eyes and that sexy full mouth.
Trent’s grin widened. It had been the worst day of his life. He was tired and more than a little hungry. And yet, somehow, he seemed to have stumbled upon a fan… a fan that made his dick hard even after he’d punched him in the jaw.
“Yeah.” He swiped his hair back off his face, “We’ve established that. I’m Trent. Lemon said I could crash here.”
Those dark eyes narrowed, “There’s no way Lemon Kelly told you that you could crash here. This is my place.”
“So you’re Shane’s brother then? Sam? Shawn?”
“Wait? Shane’s brother? You mean Seth?” The guy looked even more confused, if that was possible.
“Yeah, sorry man. I’m bad with names. Lemon told me I could crash here because your renters moved out and…”
“I’m not Seth.” The guy cut him off with a shake of his head.
Trent took a step backwards and ran smack into the wall as confusion turned to wariness. Not Seth. Not Lemon’s childhood best friend. Not the brother of her fiancé. So, this guy that he was lusting after was a complete stranger. A strange, gorgeous man that had assaulted him while he slept. And instead of getting his ass out of here or worrying that this guy was some sort of deranged stalker or paparazzi looking for a story, he was ogling him.
His dick deflated so fast it would have been comical if he wasn’t suddenly scared to death.
“Shit. No. I’m not…” The guy held his hands up innocently, “We should start over. I’m Lance Nichols. I work with Shane. I’m not some random creep. This is my place. Seth’s place is next door. I think there’s been some sort of mistake.”
That sounded plausible. Trent rubbed at his sore jaw and wondered if this guy could read his mind like Lemon did or if his thoughts were just written all over his face. He didn’t think it was the latter. If it was, he’d never have been able to keep his secret so long. At least he hoped not because if so, this guy, Lance, must know Trent had been imagining the two of them back in that bed under completely different circumstances only minutes ago. And then he’d probably beat the shit out of Trent before his gay could rub off on him or something like that.
“A mistake?” He uttered dumbly and the guy offered a flicker of a smile.
Oh, hell… Trent would have stumbled backwards if he wasn’t already against the wall. That smile was disarming to say the least. Charming and boyish and fuck, were those dimples beneath that scruffy five o’clock shadow? His dick instantly woke back up.
He’d never considered if he had a type or not. He’d spent so long hiding his sexuality he hadn’t taken many opportunities to indulge. It had always been more about availability and discretion than about out and out attraction.
He’d thought Heath was his type just yesterday. Heath with his big, fit, bulging muscles body. Heath with his golden god-like physique. But he realized now that wasn’t it at all. Because this guy wasn’t a bodybuilder. He was lean with slim hips and a clearly defined six-pack. With dark features and olive skin and the only thing he had in common with Heath was those damn boyish dimples.
Apparently, dimples were his goddamn kryptonite.
The comparison in his head between this guy and Heath made him cringe. It made him remember why he was here, in this trailer, in Fate, and in Texas in the first place. Because Heath had betrayed him. He’d trusted someone because he was attracted to them and it had been a mistake. Now he’d made another, only it was hard to focus on what it was that he’d done wrong exactly, when he was in a tiny room with a gorgeous half-naked man that was grinning at him now with an air of arrogance that only made him more attractive.
