Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 5

how to treat a date properly, and for that I'm sorry, but that's why I asked you here. I figured if you saw a different side to me it might help." Capturing Mike's hand again, a trait Mike was becoming used to, Steve dragged him out of that room and into another.
    This was where Mike's stunned amazement reached its zenith. This was obviously a sewing room - if the two sewing machines and the rows and rows of cloth bolts were anything to go by - but it wasn't just the evidence of paraphernalia that told Mike what went on in this room, it was the finished product. The quilts and throws he'd seen in the living room unmistakably originated here. Each one was made from a patchwork of exquisite colors and patterns, the gorgeous execution and attention to detail utterly breathtaking. Again, for an instant, Mike wondered if Steve lived with his mom or someone, but it became instantly clear this was all Steve's work when he pulled one of the quilts toward him.
    "I made it to match your eyes," he said. The aqua blues and greens were offset by deeper midnight hues, the edges embroidered with striates of gold and black. It was large enough to fit a bed, or to use as a wrap on cold winter nights.
    Mike fingered the silk squares and felt more like an asshole than he had a moment ago. "This is beautiful."
    "So are your eyes," Steve said, grinning once again. "It's not quite finished yet. I'll give it to you tomorrow."
    "You want me to come back to pick it up?" Mike wasn't quite sure why he asked that, because he had a feeling that wasn't was Steve was saying.
    Steve just smiled and pulled Mike into his arms. "You can come back, or you can stay the night. It's up to you."
    Encompassed in Steve's hold, Mike felt a lot of the tension that had built up in the last few minutes ease away. "You're definitely not the man I thought you were."
    "I know I gave you the wrong impression at first, but sitting at bars playing pool is not my thing either. I really prefer to curl up with a good book and snuggle up to a nice guy. And when I'm tense or need to express myself, I make these quilts. Which, by the way, I give to charity shops." Steve tightened his arms around Mike, their steel strength holding him close, but within that embrace, Mike could feel him tremble. "I like you, Mike, and I'd like to spend some time to get to know you. Do you think you'd like to get to know me?"
    After everything he'd just said about Steve, Mike did not expect the man to want to still be around him, but Mike wasn't going to throw away the opportunity to find out everything he could about this fascinating marshmallow-filled giant. He nodded then smiled, leaning in to that rock hard chest. "Yes please."
    ****
    "Hey, babe? Where do you want me to put this?" Steve stood with a bedside table cradled in his arms. Mike looked at him, exhausted.
    "Anywhere, I don't care."
    "You said that about the last three things I brought in," Steve muttered, striding off to the spare room to no doubt put the table beside all of Mike's other belongings.
    "I never knew I had so much stuff. What the hell am I supposed to do with it all? It's not like I'm really going to need it. Why didn't I just give it to that charity shop you go to so frequently?" Mike hauled himself after Steve and eyed the growing pile taking up most of Steve's space.
    "We can sort it later. That was the last of it anyway." Steve started peeling off his sweat-soaked shirt, quickly wiped himself down, the muscles he was so fond of exposing rippling beneath glistening skin.
    Caught watching, Mike tried not to show how affected he was by that superb display, but when Steve swooped in to pick him up and carry him to the bedroom, Mike realized he hadn't tried hard enough.
    "Steve! Put me down!" Slung over Steve's shoulder, any effort to get free was a complete waste of time. In Steve's arms, Mike could never get free unless Steve was ready to let him go.
    Dumped unceremoniously on the bed, Mike huffed out a lungful of air. "You're not," he stuttered, watching as Steve started undoing his jeans.
    "Sure I am. May as well start what we mean to continue."
    "But don't you have to be on the building site or something? Don't you have some holes to fill?" Mike hadn't moved. He actually couldn't; the way Steve shed his jeans and climbed onto the bed had him transfixed.
    "There's only one hole I'm interested in filling right now." Steve's declaration shot a shiver down Mike's spine, and as Steve climbed over the top of him,