Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 5

thick press of Steve between his thighs, Mike quickly rapped his knuckles against the peeling paint and held his breath for the length of time it took Steve to answer him.
    "Mike? What are you doing here?"
    Staring at the man who stood there with a puzzled look on his face, Mike felt acutely let down. Since last night he'd been thinking of nothing else other than the chance to feel Steve's lips on his, to have Steve's strong arms hold him again, and to experience, once more, the subtle but skillful way Steve seemed to know how to turn him on. Apparently Steve's thoughts hadn't been along the same lines, or if they had been, they hadn't extended to remembering their date tonight.
    "I honestly don't know," Mike said, deciding he'd been right all along. Steve was not the man for him. Sexual attraction or not, Steve obviously didn't have the element Mike was looking for, specifically the ability to focus on the man he was courting.
    Turning abruptly away, he was halfway down the walkway before Steve caught up to him.
    "Hey, where are you going?"
    "Home."
    "Why?"
    Mike kept on walking. Surely the man wasn't serious?
    "Mike! Wait a minute!" Just before he got to the stairs, Steve grabbed his arm and swung him around. "Are you all right?"
    Of course he wasn't all right, what a stupid question to ask. Craning his neck to look Steve in the eye, Mike shook his head. "How could you forget our date?" he asked, pleased he'd managed to control the tremor in his voice and not come across as the frustrated man he was right now. That time in the alley had shown a side of Steve that Mike had wanted to explore further. The way Steve had kissed him, held him, he'd felt treasured, adored, wanted. Steve had even told him he wanted him. If that was the case he had a funny way of showing it.
    "I didn't forget our date," Steve replied, his puzzlement of earlier even more pronounced. "It's at seven."
    Mike shrugged off the hand holding him. "Exactly," he said, pulling out his phone and holding it up so Steve could see the time on the screen. "It's seven now."
    "Oh." Steve took a step back and glanced toward his open front door. "I was making your gift and I must have forgotten the time." A sheepish grin formed across his face. "Sorry."
    Bewildered, Mike wasn't sure what to do. Go home and forget about Steve, because the man truly was as unorthodox as they came, or forgive him and see what Steve was talking about? He peeked over the balcony at his car. The youths had gone, but Mike wasn't sure if he wanted to risk them appearing again if went down there on his own. "What gift?" he asked, intrigued now despite his misgivings.
    Steve's grin returned full force. "Come on, I'll show you. It's not really finished, but I think you'll like it." He tugged on Mike's hand, and Mike allowed himself to be pulled back to Steve's flat.
    The interior was a shock. Whereas the outside of the building looked half derelict, the inside of Steve's home was clean, inviting and well maintained. Stepping directly into the living room, Mike noted polished wooden floors, beautifully crafted rugs, an Italian leather lounge, a thick timbered dining table big enough to seat eight people, and an entertainment unit most men would have killed to own. The room was spacious, yet it gave an air of being warm and cozy, mainly because of several exquisite quilts draped casually over the arms and backs of chairs.
    As Steve dragged him to the oak kitchen and sat him down at the table, Mike wondered for a second if Steve lived with someone, like his mother perhaps. The place looked just this side of too neat and tidy, and there were definite feminine touches which Mike found hard to associate with Steve's rough man image.
    "I'll start dinner. It'll only take a few minutes, and while it's cooking, I'll show you what I'm making for you." Steve quickly started pulling out pots and pans, and after rummaging in the fridge, stopped and turned around. "Do you like steak?"
    Mike smiled, glad Steve had asked him and not just assumed. "Yes, thank you."
    "Good, 'cause that's all I think I've got right now. I forgot to do shopping this morning." His grin was infectious, and as he grabbed potatoes, raising a questioning brow until Mike nodded, he kept up a small line of chatter. With anyone else, Mike would have said they were nervous. Steve, however, was just being Steve; confident, cool, collected.
    Leaning back into the chair, Mike took an opportunity to glance around the room again. "This