Steam (Homecoming Hearts #4)(58)

Home, he decided abruptly. He wanted to go home. He wanted his flat in Chelsea and his local pub and his lovely friends. He wanted to taste the polluted but familiar spring air of the city. He wanted a proper cup of tea.

Battling down a sob, he went to open his phone where it had gone dark and locked. But a knock at the door stopped him.

With a wet chuckle, he figured it was probably Maeve. She always seemed to know when he was feeling down so she could appear with her particular brand of brutal honesty. He’d miss her. Maybe she would want to stay in touch? He’d already seen she had a Facebook account filled with cats and pictures of hot men. He felt like they would have a lot to chat about.

He rubbed his eyes and sighed as he approached the door, doing his best to keep ahold of his smile.

It wasn’t Maeve on the other side.

Trent looked broken. He was still obviously a large, hot, muscular man. But his shoulders were slumped and his eyes looked wary as he regarded Ashby. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

“Can I come in?”

Ashby had sworn he would do everything in his power to walk away from this disastrous not-relationship. But Trent looked so bloody sad he couldn’t stand it.

“Okay,” he said quietly. He stepped inside and allowed Trent to follow. The door swung shut behind him.

As he turned to face him, Ashby caught the horrified expression light up on Trent’s face as he took in the debris littered across Ashby’s room. “You’re leaving,” he croaked.

“Uh,” said Ashby. He looked down at the phone he’d left on his bed. “Maybe?”

“Fuck,” Trent cried, grabbing his hair. His sad eyes had turned wild as his gaze darted about the room before settling on Ashby. “Please,” he said. “Please don’t go. Oh my god, I’ve been such a prick to you. But give me a chance to unfuck this. I don’t have the right, but I’m begging you, please let me try.”

Ashby took in a couple of shallow breaths. “I’m not going to ever be a woman,” he said. He knew that wasn’t the whole truth, but it was what Trent needed to hear at that moment. His cock certainly wasn’t going anywhere, and he didn’t have boobs. “I like you, Trent. I really do. But if you can’t cope with me not being a woman-”

“I don’t give a shit about you being a dude,” Trent growled, dropping his hands from his hair and looked Ashby in the eye. “I’m not scared of that, and…fuck it, I’m not scared of coming out. It’s a big deal, but I’d do it. I’m…scared to death of committing to someone for the first time in my fucking life. And I know you don’t even live in this country. But Ashby…I…don’t want to let you go. I can’t. Not if there’s any chance you’ll have me.”

Ashby could hardly trust himself to breathe. “Do you mean that?” he asked in barely more than a whisper.

Trent balled up his fists, but he nodded. “I don’t have the right words to work out how I’m feeling. Other than…god, I want to hold you and never fucking let you go.”

A small part of Ashby’s mind tried to warn him that they were very nice words, but it might not change anything. However, most of his thoughts were telling him that Trent was here. He was trying.

Ashby reached out his hand.

Trent crossed the room in two strides, swooping Ashby into a bone-crushing hug. He buried his face into Ashby’s neck while Ashby took his turn jamming his fingers through Trent’s gorgeous hair and holding tight. The sob Ashby had been fighting earlier broke free as their bodies pressed together.

“I’m so sorry,” Trent growled. “I should never have freaked out. My head’s a mess. You deserve much better than that.”

“Shh, shh,” Ashby said. Normally it was him, the emotionally excitable one, being consoled by whichever alpha male he’d picked to cry on. Soothing Trent didn’t feel like an imbalance of power, though. It felt right. Like Trent really did trust him. “I’ll stay. We can talk. I…I don’t want to let you go either.”

Trent cradled his face with his large hands and rested their foreheads together, taking several breaths in and out that gradually slowed down, getting deeper. Ashby rested his hands on Trent’s chest, just under the open leather jacket he loved so much. He could feel Trent’s heartbeat through the cotton of his T-shirt.

“Come here,” he said softly. He took hold of Trent’s hands and walked the short distance back to his bed. He swept the few items of clothing loitering there to the floor and placed his phone carefully on the dresser. He sat down, pulling Trent with him, until they were laying down together.

Trent wrapped Ashby in his arms and kissed his hair. He certainly wasn’t being hesitant to put his hands on a guy again. To put his hands on Ashby.

When Ashby had been moping, he hadn’t bothered to turn on any lights as the evening faded into night. He was glad now, as it gave them a certain amount of intimacy as they held one another in the growing darkness. Trent inhaled deeply, rubbing his nose against Ashby’s hair. Ashby finally felt some of the tension easing from his many muscles.

Ashby brushed his fingertips over Trent’s jawline. “We could talk,” he said, trying to be reasonable. “But I’m quite desperate to kiss you. And if I kiss you, I think I might have to encourage you to take off your clothes. Just for a little while.” He licked his lips and was pleased when Trent responded to his smile with one of his own. “I’m trying very hard to be a grownup about this,” he said sincerely. “But certain parts of me aren’t agreeing with my brain.”