Dreamspinner Press Year Three Greatest Hits

by Jenna Hilary Sinclair

  When he started to wake, Trace shifted his legs first, the warmth of the dream naturally translating to a morning erection. He vaguely remembered sleepily cuddling against a warm body because he’d been cold and the person—the man, it had to be a man—radiated heat. Now, in his fading dream, they were wrapped around each other, Trace’s leg now resting securely between firm thighs. He moaned softly as he shifted, feeling a long, hot, hard brand against his own leg, and he mindlessly pushed closer, seeking some sort of stimulation for himself to help ease the buzzing in his groin. Then a strong hand moved down Trace’s back to grip his hip and stop the subtle grinding, and Trace hummed quietly and stilled again, but not before burrowing closer into the warm arms wrapped around him.

  He finally roused when the arms around him moved and dislodged his own hold on the warm body serving as his pillow.

  David stirred as the man in his arms shifted. When he’d returned to bed the night before, he’d lain on his back and Trace had immediately cuddled against his side. Trace’s leg was now resting securely between David’s thighs. He groaned as the brunet moved again, his leg pressing directly against David’s erection. David’s hand moved down Trace’s back to grip his hip and stop the subtle grinding that was going to drive him out of his mind. Trace hummed quietly and stilled again, but not before burrowing closer into the warm arms wrapped around him.

  Shit. Now what? David didn’t want to disturb Trace, but the man was liable to sleep another couple of hours. He attempted to slide out of Trace’s arms, but Trace frowned and struggled to wake up enough to see what was wrong. “David?” he asked, his voice husky.

  He knew it was David now. Had it been David just then? Trace couldn’t put it together. He was too bleary. Then the shadow above him leaned forward and brushed soft lips over Trace’s mouth. It was as if Trace had never left his dream. The butterfly kiss was gone so quickly Trace tried to gain another, lifting a hand to curl about the back of David’s neck.

  David groaned, tilting his head and deepening the kiss, their lower bodies surging forward without conscious direction. David’s hand stroked down Trace’s back, cupping his ass and hitching him even closer before he realized what he was doing.

  Then David jerked away, leaving his skin exposed to air and chilled. He rolled out of the bed and to his feet. Without even looking at Trace, he ran a shaky hand through his sleep-mussed hair. “I’m sorry,” he said, eyes darting to the man lying on his bed and then away in a blink. “I’m going… um… coffee.” With one more swipe through his hair, he fled.

  The warmth and pleasure investing Trace’s body faltered, and he dragged his eyes open as he heard David saying something, but before he could ask him to repeat it, David was gone.

  And Trace felt like he was buzzing all over.

  Humming faintly, he shifted to his back, one hand straying below his hips, and he rubbed his palm over himself, hard in his boxer briefs, rocking slightly as he sank back into the dream.

  ONCE DAVID was awake, he wanted to get up and fix coffee. He took a careful sip of his second cup while staring blindly at the newspaper. He just wasn’t any good at lying in bed. He certainly wasn’t any good at lying in bed with Trace wrapped around him. Not that and keeping his hands off him. With a sigh, David rustled the paper. He shouldn’t have kissed him. Not that Trace would mind, probably. But it only fed his own wants, which were destined to be unfulfilled.

  Trace probably would mind if he’d come awake with David tilting their mouths together and deepening the kiss, their lower bodies surging forward without conscious direction, David’s hand stroking down his back, cupping his ass, and hitching him even closer….

  David jerked himself out of his reverie when he heard Trace banging around in the bathroom. David groaned. “Coffee. More coffee.” Is it too early to add some whiskey to it? With a swipe of his hand through his hair, he forced himself out of the chair and over to the counter to refill his mug.

  By the time he was back to his chair and had picked up the newspaper, Trace dragged into the kitchen.

  “I need coffee,” Trace muttered. God, he hated mornings.

  “It’s hot,” David said, gesturing to the pot.

  Trace yawned as he pulled a cup out of the cabinet. As he poured his coffee, David watched as, even half-asleep, Trace cleaned up after them before he sat down. David just had to smile.

  “I’m busy today,” Trace said through his yawns.

  “I’m hosting the Queen for tea,” David said casually.

  “I have meetings from ten to four, and then I—wait. Did you just say the Queen?” When David laughed, Trace kicked him under the table. “It’s too early to fuck around with me,” he complained.

  David bit his lip. “But it’s fun!”

  Trace threw a wadded-up napkin at him, feeling somewhat peevish now. “You’re on your own for lunch. And now, I’m not sorry about it,” he said pointedly. “I’ll be back for an early dinner, but I’ve got to go back out and pick up some dry cleaning. I’m checking on Mabel on the way to the office this morning.”

  “What time is early?” David asked.

  “Probably around five,” Trace said, yawning again. “I wouldn’t be up this early if Mabel wasn’t being so pissy lately. She doesn’t like being left alone. I’ll have more shreds than curtains when I get there, I know it. But it’s better than losing another pair of dress pants.”

  David grinned. “I wondered why that last suit came back from the cleaners without pants.”

  Trace rolled his eyes. “You know how hard it’s going to be to find pants to match that suit now?”

  “Give it up. The suit coat will look fine with khakis. You’ll never match the navys,” David advised.

  “Thanks for the fashion advice,” Trace said wryly as he stood up to take his mug to the sink. Like David knew much of anything about fashion. “You who thinks formal wear is no holes in his jeans.”

  “Not true! Holes in the knees are fine for formal occasions when properly paired with a nice jacket, just not holes in the ass,” David responded, unable to keep the grin inside. “Unless, of course, the jacket is long enough to hide them.”

  Trace paused and just stared at him blankly for a long moment, and then he shook his head. “I have no reply to that.” He picked up his jacket to pull it on.

  David watched as Trace’s jacket settled on his shoulders, his eyes naturally following the motion down as it unfortunately covered a very nice ass. A fine-tailored suit on a fine-looking man is a wonderful thing.

  Trace picked up his laptop bag and keys and opened the door before pausing on the threshold. “Hey, you’ll be okay for lunch, right?”

  “Yes, Mom. I’ve been feeding myself for almost forty-two years.”

  Trace shot him a grin and stepped outside, pulling the door shut behind him.

  Chapter 7

  DAVID GLANCED up as the doorknob rattled. After just a moment, the door opened with a thump and Matt appeared, the top of a heavy-looking, greasy bag from Five Guys Burgers and Fries clenched between his teeth. He tossed his keys on the counter and dropped the mail next to them.

  “Hey, you lazy fucker, get in here. I’ve got your burgers.”

  David chuckled. “I’m right here.”

  Matt turned around to see David sitting with his laptop at the small kitchen table. “Enjoying your vacation?” Matt said sarcastically.

  “Oh yeah, big time,” David retorted, reaching out and gesturing with his good hand. “Food.”

  “Demanding asshole, aren’t you? What, you’re not still full from the other night?” Matt said as he set the bag on the table with a thump.

  “Lord, don’t remind me. I ate so much….”

  “You telling me you didn’t save room for dessert?” Matt asked with a leer as he slid a burger across the table to David.

  “I saw your dessert. Chocolate éclair with cream filling was is?” David threw back.

  Matt tossed a fry at David’s head and said, “We’re not here to talk a
bout my love life, we’re here to discuss yours.”

  “That’s not why I asked you here,” David said with a shrug before taking a bite of his burger.

  “Uh huh. So why did you ask me over? You’ve been working through lunch ever since I met you. I knew there was something else,” Matt said as he sat down across from him.

  David sighed. “I need a favor.”

  “Oh Lord, here we go,” Matt groaned, covering his eyes. “The last favor I did for you, I woke up in a Mexican jail cell the next afternoon.”

  “I bailed you out,” David objected, feigning a hurt look. “But no, it’s not a big favor this time. I just can’t drive.” He gestured to his shoulder.

  “So you don’t want me to drive you to Tijuana,” Matt checked as he munched on his fries.

  “No, just downtown.”

  “What do you need to go downtown for?”

  David studied Matt for a long moment. He knew he was going to get teased like crazy no matter what he said. “Actually, I need to go to Trace’s apartment.”

  Matt let out a bark of a laugh. “Why?” he drew out slowly.

  “A little over a week ago I got one of those shitty migraines and called Trace to pick up my meds,” David said. He raised his hand when he saw Matt start to open his mouth. “Yes, I would have called you, but you were down at that big governor’s to-do, two hours away.”

  Matt scrunched his nose. “So you called Trace, and he brought you medicine. And dinner was a thank you?”

  “No, that was Trace out reviewing restaurants. I was just tagging along,” David explained.

  “Uh huh,” Matt said slowly. “So why are we breaking into his apartment?”

  “I have a key,” David qualified, frowning.

  Matt just stared at him, waiting. David suppressed the urge to squirm.

  “I need to go pick up his cat.”

  Matt’s lips compressed, like he was holding back a laugh. He cleared his throat. “Aren’t we a little old to be stealing the other team’s mascot?”

  “No, asshole. Trace has been staying with me since I fell and broke my shoulder,” David said, rubbing his fingers along the strap of the sling. “There’s just lots of things I can’t do, and he’s been helping, and his cat’s been at that apartment alone for over a week now except for him running in and out for twenty minutes once a day to check on her.” David could practically see all the questions running through his ex-lover’s mind—to others Matt might have a hell of a poker face, but after twenty years knowing him, David was probably one of the few people who could read him.

  Matt took another couple of bites of his burger; David did the same as he waited for the snappy comeback.

  “So we need to go to the store and get a litter box and some cat food first,” Matt said mildly.

  David raised his brows in surprise. “That’s it? No dig?” Matt shook his head, and David wrinkled his brow as he thought about what he might need. “I’m sure the cat has all that stuff there. We can just pick it up.”

  “You’re not putting that litter box in my Mustang, and I’m sure as hell not cleaning that box first.”

  DAVID CAREFULLY pushed the door open and peeked into the apartment, fearing the cat might try to make a run for it. But no, not a feline in sight. He walked in, looking around, and Matt spoke up from behind him after he heard the door shut solidly.

  “Are you sure Trace isn’t secretly gay?”

  David laughed. “What makes you ask that?”

  “Look at this apartment! It’s swank and really far too neat for any man. And the way he dresses is all sharp and neat all the time, and he owns a fucking cat—”

  David shook his head and cut Matt off. “No, Trace is not secretly gay. There are a lot of women who would attest to that. Loudly and at length.”

  “I don’t know, man,” Matt said as he wandered over to the entertainment center. He picked up a CD. “Come on! Coldplay?” He dropped it and snatched up a DVD. “He’s got When Harry Met Sally!”

  “Hey,” David objected. “I like When Harry Met Sally!”

  “My point!” Matt announced meaningfully.

  “Will you quit it? We’ve got to find Mabel.”

  “May—bel?”

  “Hey, I didn’t name her. And keep your voice down, we’re probably scaring her.”

  David wandered back to the sunlit bedroom just in time to see a flash of fluffy black tail disappear underneath the bed with a soft jingle. He turned to call for Matt and stopped, because Matt was opening drawers in Trace’s dresser. “What are you doing?” he exclaimed.

  Matt turned around, a pair of black silk boxers hanging from the tip of his finger. “See? Gay.”

  “I’m sure those are as appealing to women as they are to men,” David said drolly. Because, oh Lord, just the thought is nearly enough to make me dizzy.

  “Have you ever known a straight man who wore silk boxers?” Matt asked, swinging the fabric back and forth.

  “I’ve never been in a straight man’s pants,” David retorted, stalking over to grab the boxers and stuff them back into the dresser.

  “Well, you’ve been in his drawers now,” Matt murmured.

  David smacked him in the belly with his good hand. “Mabel is under the bed.”

  “Ooo! The bed,” Matt said spritely as he turned and made a beeline for the nightstand.

  “Oh, hell no.” David caught Matt’s hand just in time. “Some things we just don’t need to know, and a straight man’s sexual habits are among them.”

  Matt was about to reply when Mabel streaked between them, heading out of the bedroom and into the living room. The movement surprised them both, and as they turned they bumped into one another and fell down onto the bed.

  “Hey, get her!” David said as he flailed, trying to keep from rolling onto his bad shoulder.

  “I’ve been asked to get many things in my life, but pussy isn’t one of them,” Matt said as he scrambled up, already in pursuit.

  By the time David caught up to him out in the main room, Matt was turning toward him, his arms full of black fluff. The look on his face was one of resigned patience, and David had to laugh.

  “Before you say a word,” David started, “Trace got her a year ago from his grandmother when she moved to Florida,” he said helplessly.

  “Uh huh,” Matt answered flatly. Mabel was a black Persian with long, silky, fluffy black hair, round head, flat face, and eerie orange-gold eyes. There was a collar under all that hair somewhere, but it had to be black, because all David could see was the shiny little tag and bell that had been jingling.

  “Look,” Matt said with a shit-eating grin, pointing to a picture on the bookshelf of Trace accepting last year’s city philanthropy award, dressed in a sharp suit with his hair down and scattered over his shoulders. “They match!”

  “OKAY, MABEL, the litter box is in the hall bathroom. Here’s your water bowl. Here’s your food.” David looked down at the matching pink bowls with little kitty paw prints around the edge. “Is that enough food?”

  Mabel looked up at him and blinked slowly, the tip of her tail twitching.

  “I probably shouldn’t be waiting for you to answer me. I think the pain meds are getting to me. Trace will be home soon. He’ll fix it if it isn’t right.”

  Mabel took two dainty steps toward the food bowl, sniffed the contents, and returned her orangey gaze to him.

  “I bought seafood delight. Every cat likes fish, right?” David sighed and ran a hand through his already-mussed hair. “Damn, I’m talking to a cat. Time to go do something manly, like watching baseball.” David headed for the living room. Flipping on the TV, he settled on the couch, pulling a pillow behind his head and stretching out.

  “Ooof!” The air was forced from his lungs as Mabel jumped up and landed square on his gut. “Damn, you’re heavier than you look.”

  Mabel extended her claws and began to knead at David’s belly.

  “Ouch! Fuck, stop that! That hurts! That’s what I g
et for making a comment about a woman’s weight.” He tried to gently remove her claws from his shirt but only succeeded in repositioning her to his chest.

  Turning three slow circles, Mabel settled with a throaty purr. David sighed and turned his attention to the TV, but the soothing vibrations soon lulled him to sleep.

  It wasn’t too much later when Trace walked in the back door and slung his laptop case onto the table next to David’s computer and three used coffee mugs. He sighed and shrugged out of his jacket, hung it neatly over the back of a chair, and picked up the mugs. He rinsed them out and left them in the strainer. “David?”

  When he didn’t hear an answer he went looking. “Hey, David, where….”

  Trace stopped in place, blinking in surprise. David was sprawled on the couch, snoring quietly, with a big, black… lump on his chest. Trace tipped his head to one side as he stepped closer.

  “Mabel?” he asked in shock. Mabel raised her head from where she was curled up on top of David’s slowly rising and falling chest. “What are you doing here, sweetie?” Trace asked as he walked over and hefted Mabel into his arms. Mabel mewed in protest and tried to squirm as he held onto her. Trace kept her close and nudged David’s side with his knee. “Hey, David. David.”

  Finally David’s eyes fluttered open. He saw Trace, but it didn’t register at first. Rubbing his eyes, David sat up carefully. “Hi,” he said with a yawn.

  “Hi,” Trace said, amused. “Is there a reason you’re sleeping with my cat? I thought you weren’t into women?”

  David added, “Or cats,” in a mutter. “And let me tell you, she sure is a woman.”

  “What do you mean?” Trace asked as he sat down on the other end of the couch, stroking Mabel the way he knew she liked, but she kept squirming. He frowned down at her.

  “I stupidly commented on her weight, and she clawed the hell out of me,” David groused, rubbing his chest as he watched Trace fumbling to keep hold of the cat.