by Jess Bryant
He was gorgeous. Sexy. Talented. The star of Lance’s every late-night fantasy. And he was here. In Lance’s bedroom. Half-naked.
Was this a dream?
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.
“Yeah, a mistake.” The guy, Lance, nodded as his smile hitched up higher on one side, “It sounds like Lemon meant to send you to Seth’s trailer, which is the one just on the other side of the driveway.”
“What?”
“The trailer that sits opposite this one? Seth Lowry owns it.”
Trent scrubbed a hand over his face, “This isn’t his trailer?”
“Uh, no. This is my place.”
“Right. You said that. Sorry, I’m kind of a mess. This is your place. And you’re Lance.”
That grin kicked up again, “Yeah, Lance Nichols.”
He was still trying to piece all of this together, “And you work with Shane? Lemon’s fiancé?”
“Yeah, I’m a deputy with the Fate Sheriff’s office.”
“You’re a deputy.” Something Lance had said clicked in his head and he sucked in a rattled breath, “You could have shot me. You said you’d shoot me if I moved and I thought you were just being… You have a gun?”
He felt a little lightheaded at the thought. He’d stumbled into the wrong trailer because he was exhausted and because Lemon’s drop pin had been less than helpful once he entered the trailer park. He’d gone into another man’s home, slept in his bed and he could have been shot for it. His life had been in danger and he hadn’t even known it.
Guns. A gun. This guy had a gun. Trent felt a wave of nausea hit h
im. He didn’t like guns. Not at all. He may have grown up in the country, in Texas, but he wasn’t a gun guy. He never had been but he hadn’t grown up afraid of them either. The panic that hit him at the mere thought of a gun had stemmed from an event in his life he wished he could forget. He didn’t like guns and there was one here, in this trailer, and this man, this stranger, could have used it to kill him while Trent was sleeping and he never would have even known it was coming.
“Woah, hey…” Suddenly there were two warm hands on his upper arms and when he focused again Lance was standing directly in front of him. The boyish smile was gone now. Worried eyes darted over his face, “Easy man, you’re not in any danger here.”
Trent swallowed but the lump in his throat made his voice crack, “G-Gun?”
“It’s in the kitchen. I don’t have it on me.” Those dark eyes met his and held him there firmly, dragging him out of his past and back into the present, “I’m not gonna hurt you.”
Logically, Trent knew that. This man didn’t strike him as a threat. Even if he had punched him not five minutes ago. Lance lived in Fate. He worked with Shane. Lemon knew Trent was here. This guy wouldn’t harm him. But his brain wasn’t firing on all cylinders, it had been a long day, he’d just been outed and he’d seen the judgement and then the disgust on the faces of people he’d thought were his friends, so the words tumbled out unchecked before he could manage to strangle them.
“I’m gay.”
Those dark eyes widened but the hands that were still holding his arms, holding him steady, only tightened fractionally and a confused look crossed that handsome face before his brows knit together, “Okay man, you should sit down. You look like you’re about to collapse.”
Trent let the other guy guide him back towards the bed because his legs did feel rubbery. He hadn’t heard him. Lance must not have heard him. That was the only explanation for why he wasn’t getting the shit beat out of him right now.
Right?
“Sit.” Lance ordered in a firm voice and Trent collapsed down onto the edge of the bed.
“I… I… I…” He started.
“Is this about the gun?”
He jerked his eyes up and felt a shiver of fear trickle down his spine again. That word always gave him a bad feeling. He could see the worry on Lance’s face when he nodded.
“Okay. Hold on.”
Lance released his grip on Trent’s arms and stepped away from him. A rush of cold air hit him, and Trent shivered again. He didn’t like losing that touch. There was something reassuring in it. But then, he wasn’t supposed to trust this guy who was a complete stranger.
Was he?
The dark-haired man disappeared into the dark hallway and Trent’s confused mind flipped back over. Where was he going? He’d said this was his trailer and.. a tall figure reemerged through the darkness, stepping back into the bedroom and Trent’s breath caught in his chest.
“Son of a…” He scrambled backwards at the sight of the sleek black gun in the other man’s hand.
“Easy. Easy.” Lance hurried across the room, not towards him, “I’m just going to lock it up. That way you don’t have to worry about it. Okay?”
Trent held his breath. Rather, he couldn’t seem to suck in any new air. Not at the sight of that gun. A gun that this man could have used to kill him at any moment. A flip of the safety and a squeeze of a trigger, it was too easy, too dangerous. His head told him to get on his feet and run. Get the hell out of here. Get out of this trailer. But his legs wouldn’t work and he was frozen to his spot on the bed.
All he could do was watch as the mirrored closet door slid open and Lance squatted down. He couldn’t even appreciate the way those dark boxers clung to his ass in that position. Trent was too focused on the gun in the other man’s hand.
Lance punched some numbers into what appeared to be a safe. The beeps were loud in the otherwise quiet trailer. The door swung open and the black and silver weapon disappeared inside. When it swung back shut, hiding the gun from his view, Trent managed to release the air that had been caught in his lungs.
“There. It’s gone. Locked up.” Lance pushed back to his feet and came towards him slowly, “Is that better?”
Trent nodded dumbly.
The gun was gone. Lance had locked it up. Put it away. Out of sight. Out of mind. And he’d done it to reassure Trent, to make him feel better. He stared at the handsome stranger, more confused than ever as to why he hadn’t been kicked out yet, why he wasn’t getting his face rearranged.
“Good.” Lance dropped down in front of him so they were at eye level, “You okay? Take a deep breath for me.”
Trent sucked in a deep breath on command and when he let it out, the words that he’d barely said a handful of times in his life fell out all over again, “I’m gay.”
For some reason, it seemed really important to him that Lance know that. Here and now. If he hadn’t heard him earlier, that was one thing but he didn’t want the guy to think he’d purposefully kept him in the dark. That could only lead to worse things and…
“Yeah. I heard you the first time.” Lance ran a hand through his short hair as he shot a sheepish smile at Trent from under his dark lashes, “I uh… I actually heard on...”
“The news.”
“Just gossip they call news.”
“It’s true.” Trent forced himself to raise his chin, “I’m gay. So if you want to hurt me for that, I get it but I won’t go down easy.”
Horror flashed in Lance’s dark eyes, “What?”
“I slept in your bed. I’m a gay man. I’m a gay man in hiding and I came into your home and slept in your bed and…”
“And what the hell does that have to do with hurting you?” Lance cut him off with a growl, “Jesus, that’s why you’re so scared of the gun, isn’t it? You think I’d hurt you just because you’re gay?”
“I… well…”
Lance’s outrage softened when Trent ducked his head, “Shit. Someone threatened you, didn’t they? Someone put a gun on you just because they found out who you really were?”
Trent’s head rose and he stared into an angry pair of dark brown eyes. Not angry at him. Angry for him. Angry on his behalf. And that pain in his chest lessened just a small bit. How did this stranger do that? Read his mind and figure him out, put the pieces together in a matter of minutes when people that had known him his entire life never had.
Trent nodded.
“Son of a…” Lance cursed under his breath and stared at him for a long moment and then he surprised Trent once again because he moved his hands to cup Trent’s face gently between them and met his eyes, “That’s complete bullshit. I would never, ever threaten you like that or hurt you for being who you are.”
Trent forgot to breathe again. This close he could see that those dark eyes were actually a deep chocolate brown, like he’d suspected. They weren’t just close though. They were touching and the tingle that started where Lance’s hands were on his face, innocently, comfortingly, sent a shiver of awareness skating through Trent’s blood. Their eyes held and tension seeped through the small space between them.
Trent was confused enough by the heat that had seemed to ignite between them out of nothingness that he stumbled over his question, “Wh-why?”
Those dark eyes softened and a thumb brushed over his cheekbone, “God, you really are a mess aren’t you?” Lance sighed heavily, “Because you’re… you. Because I’m like you. Because I’m gay too.”
Lance was… gay. The word was a shock to his system and Trent couldn’t do anything but blink at the other man. He’d never had any decent sort of gaydar. He’d spent too many years hiding himself to pick up on it in someone else. But Lance hadn’t struck him as gay, even when Trent had been checking him out and cataloguing every feature for when he was alone with nothing but his hand.
Was that why his attraction was so strong? Because it wasn’t one-sided at all? Because this man understood him in a way that nobody else could have in thi
s moment?
Trent stared into those intense brown eyes for a moment longer and then he moved. Without thinking it through. Without thinking about the consequences. For once, simply doing what he wanted, taking what he wanted. He dipped his head forward and pressed his mouth against Lance’s without any hesitation whatsoever.
He kissed this beautiful, kind stranger and groaned when Lance kissed him back.
Chapter Four
Lance had just told a complete stranger that he was gay. Something he hadn’t told anyone. Ever. And he’d told a complete stranger.
No not a complete stranger. He’d told an international superstar whose music videos he’d jerked off to more than once. The same guy whose entire career was established on a foundation of being a ladies-man, bro-country, boobs and beer rowdy party boy. The same man that had just been outed as gay on the national news.
And now, now he was kissing Trent Thorne.
Aw, hell, no… He moaned as full, damp lips parted against his and then came back stronger, surer and more demanding. Trent Thorne was kissing him. Kissing the hell out of him. And Lance was simply along for the ride.
It was reckless. Stupid. A mistake. He knew that. But God, it felt so good and he knew… he just knew that if he pulled away he’d regret it even more.
Trent’s lips were firm but soft against his as he stroked Lance into responding. It didn’t take much. He was on edge. He was always on edge. But finding Trent fuckin’ Thorne in his bed, hard and half-naked was not an opportunity he intended to pass up. He opened his lips on the next pass of Trent’s mouth over his and licked the seam of the other man’s lips.
“Fuck.” Trent gasped and then his mouth slammed down against Lance’s.
Big, strong hands were on him a second later. One slid to the nape of his neck and the other was on his bicep and he was being jerked off his knees. His mind scrambled as Trent dragged him up and deposited him onto his lap without breaking the kiss.
Lance let his arms slip around Trent’s neck as his thighs slid wide to accommodate the bulk of man beneath him. Oh God, he groaned as he settled more firmly onto Trent’s lap. Their cocks rubbed together through the thin barrier of their underwear and he automatically rocked his hips to get more of the feeling.