Trace studied David’s face, his breathing and pulse calming. David’s weight felt good, he acknowledged. Solid and squared rather than soft and rounded. He decided he liked it. Trace wondered if David was going to kiss him again. Trace wouldn’t mind it. But…. “David?” he said, tone regretful. David’s weight was right on his bladder, and that was a problem.
“I think I’ll save my boon, but don’t forget you owe me. I always collect.” Grinning, David pushed himself off the bed. “I need coffee. Want some?”
Trace sighed in relief and climbed off the bed as well. “Yes. But not before I go to the bathroom.” He scooted around David, but turned and hesitated, then impulsively leaned close to drop a light kiss on David’s mouth before continuing on his way, pushing the bathroom door closed behind him. Once inside he let out a long, slow breath and raised a hand to touch his lips.
Chill bumps rose on David’s skin after Trace’s casual but intimate gesture. He hadn’t had anyone who stayed around any amount of time in his life for years, and he missed moments like this—lingering in bed, making each other breakfast, casual displays of affection that somehow meant so much more than a fast and furious fuck. Forcing his eyes away from the closed door, David turned to start his quest for coffee. His mind was way too fuzzy to be dealing with the intense thoughts running through it. Thoughts like I’m falling in love with my best friend.
Once inside the bathroom, Trace let out a long, slow breath and raised a hand to touch his tingling lips. He found himself lingering in the bathroom—actually just staring in the mirror at his lips, feeling them buzz with warmth. This was so different from raw sexual attraction. He fucked that out pretty much every weekend, until just recently. But this? He knew he loved David; there was no question about that. They were best friends, and Trace treasured that. But he wasn’t “in love” with David…. Trace looked up into the mirror with wide eyes.
Shaking off the rest of his sleepiness, Trace told himself to just cool it. There was nothing wrong with loving his best friend. That didn’t mean he wanted wild and crazy man sex. He rolled his eyes at himself and sighed. “Jerk,” he muttered. But those kisses had been awfully nice. I wouldn’t mind a few of those occasionally. Laughing softly at himself, he wondered what David thought about those kisses. And he wondered if he’d get more soon.
TRACE HUMMED along with the sultry jazz music, shifting his weight back and forth along with the beat as he stirred the mix in the big pot he’d found in David’s cabinet. He scooped up some of the liquid and pursed his lips to blow on it before he sipped it off the wooden spoon carefully.
David stopped in the doorway, watching Trace sway to the deep bass beat. The brunet and the jazz were a good match, both innately sensual. And he’d been finding out, in the past couple of weeks since the poker game, just how sensual Trace Jackson could be. Slight touches, barely there kisses, eyes wandering more openly over each other—just enough to keep David at a low simmer. He felt like a pressure cooker; every few days he had to get off in the shower just to keep from exploding on the spot when Trace gave him one of those innocent, smoldering looks. Only David was certain Trace didn’t mean them to be at all that innocent.
“Something smells good,” David said, walking into the room. He stopped and leaned against Trace’s back, resting his chin on his shoulder. “Special dinner? Did you actually cook, or did you bribe one of the chefs trying to get into your good graces?”
“I made it myself, I’ll have you know. I did bribe somebody to get the recipe, though,” Trace said with a grin.
David nodded toward the pot. “Taste?” As he distracted Trace by nuzzling his neck, David reached around him to the counter and flipped some shrimp heads down to the floor, where Mabel promptly snarfed them up.
Trace lifted the spoon so David could sip from it. “Good, huh?”
A deep moan of approval rose from David’s chest. “Excellent. But I’d expect nothing less.” David grinned, shifting to lean his hip against the counter and watch as Trace spread a mixture of butter and fresh garlic on a loaf of bread. Trace wore a pair of faded jeans with holes in both knees and an ass that was so threadbare it was almost white. His T-shirt wasn’t much better. It had been washed so many times that it was impossible to tell what its original color had been, but it clung to the muscular shoulders and arms enticingly. It was amazing, frankly, because David would have sworn Trace didn’t even own clothes that old and beat up. Even his gym clothes were always neat and well-fitted. It was a very different look on him. A very good look on him, and David swallowed hard. Pressure cooker.
“Do you want some wine?” Trace asked, still swaying to the music as he reached into the cabinet for some glasses.
“Sure. I haven’t had any pain meds today.” Pulling the opener out of the drawer, he turned to the bottle sitting on the counter, cursing as he twisted the corkscrew with the wrong hand. “Damn!”
Trace sighed and walked over to take the bottle and corkscrew, pausing long enough to press a soft kiss to David’s shoulder. “Well, you must be getting better if you get that far before it twinges on you,” he said supportively, popping out the cork.
David rolled his eyes, leaning into Trace’s side. “That doesn’t help. I’ve been doing those damn exercises for three weeks now.”
“Poor baby,” Trace crooned, pouring the wine into two glasses. “How ’bout this?” Strong fingers gently probed the muscles of David’s arm and upper back. The blond moaned, his head falling forward as the massage loosened the muscles he unconsciously held tight.
Leaning back into Trace’s chest, David turned his head, kissing a line along Trace’s jaw. “So, anything this poor cripple can do to help?” he asked, taking a sip of the rich gold liquid.
Humming with the music, Trace bumped their hips together, nudging David toward the stove. “Stir the gumbo. It’ll still be another half hour or so,” he said. “Do we want anything to go with it besides rice and bread?” he asked as he pulled a bag out of the cabinet.
“Ummm, we-ell….” David fluttered his eyelashes comically and puckered his lips.
Trace grinned and shook his head as he danced his way back over to David. “Hmmm. I don’t know,” he fudged. “Here I’ve been doing all the cooking, and you want dessert first?”
David’s eyes widened innocently. “Appetizer?”
Rolling his eyes, Trace kissed David affectionately. “How’s that?” he asked, amused. “Don’t want to spoil your dinner.”
David leaned his head back, closing his eyes and licking his lips like he was savoring a rare delicacy. “You’re right,” he said, opening his eyes and winking at Trace. “Far too sweet. Must be dessert.”
Trace chuckled. “You sweet-talker,” he accused lightly. “I bet you say that every time you kiss a food critic.”
“Yep, every time.” David grinned and went back to stirring the pot, brushing Trace as he walked past to fill the pot with water and start the rice. Just that simple contact kept him half-hard and incredibly aroused.
Snorting, Trace stirred unsalted butter into the water. “How many food critics do you know?” he asked, shamelessly fishing, which pleased David to no end.
Looking down into the bubbling liquid as though seriously inspecting the food, David replied evenly, “Just one.” Trace smiled down at the rice, and after a few moments, bumped David’s hip playfully before impulsively kissing the side of his neck, just below his ear.
Goose bumps climbed up David’s neck and down his arms at the light touch. Trace being willing to accept his touch was one thing, but initiating them himself? David shook his head. He had no idea where this was heading, but it sure felt nice. They were so comfortable together and had so much fun. Trace was probably already the best relationship he’d ever had. Lifting a spoonful of gumbo, he blew the steam away and offered it to the man stirring the rice next to him. Trace puckered his lips to blow on the liquid a little more before sliding his lips around the spoon. He sighed happily. “A little more hot sauce, I
think,” he said, deliberately reaching in front of David and leaning into him to reach the bottle.
Purposefully not moving out of Trace’s way, David maximized the drag of their bodies together. Oh, he was getting hungry all right, but he wasn’t sure the gumbo was going to help. Trace chuckled as he pulled back and rubbed his knuckles against David’s chest for a moment before opening the bottle and adding several shakes to the pot. “There we go. Nice and spicy.”
David looked at Trace out of the corner of his eyes. He’d watched Trace flirt for years, but he’d never been the recipient of the attention, and it was doing amazing things to his libido. “Just the way I like it,” he rasped.
Trace was flirting like crazy. He enjoyed seeing David get flustered over him. “Yeah, I figured,” Trace drawled, bumping David’s hip and rubbing for a few moments as another song started. He hummed along as he sidled down the counter to finish wrapping the bread in foil.
Pulling the spoon out of the pot and laying it on a plate to keep the stovetop clean, David followed down the counter, pressing the front of his body against Trace’s back, fingers curling into his hips. “If word gets out you can cook, Jackson, I’ll be beating them away from the door with a stick,” he said, peering over Trace’s shoulder at the fresh bread.
Trace chuckled. “Enjoy it while you’ve got it. I know you: living off takeout Chinese and drive-through crap. Yet another reason I have to take care of you,” he teased, turning his head so he could kiss David’s cheek.
“At least the Chinese has vegetables,” David defended, sticking out his tongue playfully. His stomach chose that moment to growl. Looking down, he chuckled. “Will it be ready soon? I’m starved.”
“Awww,” Trace sympathized, rubbing the back of his arm against David’s tummy. “Get out some bowls and put the wine on the table. We’ll eat dinner. Then we can talk about dessert.”
David’s body reacted instantly to the potential for double meaning in that statement. A reaction he vigorously quashed, knowing full well Trace wouldn’t be offering him the kind of dessert he was really craving and, if he were, they’d be skipping the dinner part altogether. Lifting the bowls down from the cabinet with his left hand one at a time for fear of breaking them, he set the table and poured more wine, carrying their glasses and the bottle to the table one at a time.
Trace gave the gumbo one more good stir, but he was preoccupied by thinking about the man moving around behind him. Actually, preoccupied with the thought of the “dessert” he’d mentioned. More kisses. More touches. The corners of his mouth tilted up. He was looking forward to it.
Chapter 11
EYES RIVETED on the movie, Trace slid his hand toward the popcorn bowl, missing it altogether to rub across David’s chest as his fingers hit the outer edge, and he paused, laughed, and started feeling around for the popcorn again. It probably would have been easier if he weren’t half-draped over David, who was holding the bowl at his side away from Trace.
“Quit groping me. I’m trying to watch the movie,” David teased, moving the bowl within easier reach. Truth was, Trace had picked a movie David had seen multiple times, and he was far more interested in watching the emotions crossing Trace’s face than the TV screen.
“How did I miss seeing this?” Trace asked, chuckling as the pirate bemoaned the missing rum. “Have you had this all along and I just missed it?” He dug into the popcorn and ate it out of his palm, laying his head to the side against David’s shoulder.
David tilted his head toward Trace, resting his cheek against the dark hair. “Yeah, I’ve had it since it came out. It’s great for decompression.” He shifted slightly, stretching his arm along the back of the couch.
“It’s hysterically funny, is what it is,” Trace said, snorting at the pirate’s muttered comment about living with the woman. He shifted further on his hip to lie in the hollow against David’s body, hand snaking up to steal the bowl of popcorn.
“Hey!” David poked Trace in the side.
“Ack!” Trace twitched and tried to cover his side with the bowl. He picked up a popcorn kernel. “Here,” he said, holding it to David’s lips.
“Oh no, I’m not so easily bribed,” David warned. “If it was chocolate maybe….” White kernels flew up into the air as David’s fingers attacked Trace’s sides.
Trace flailed, trying to get away and stop David’s hands, not doing too well at either. “No no no, please! Not with the tickling again! Jesus!” Trace squirmed, trying to get away from David.
“Please what?” David asked, looming over Trace and pinning the flailing arms at the wrist above Trace’s head.
Trace tilted his head back and offered David a poor-pitiful-me look. “Please stop tickling me,” he begged. “It makes me crazy. You know that!”
“Hmmm.” David pretended to consider the argument. “What’s it worth to you?” he asked, running his fingers up under Trace’s T-shirt.
“A kiss?” Trace offered freely. As the weeks had passed since the poker game, a kiss had become more and more commonplace, yet not at all common, in Trace’s experience. Each and every one felt special. He wasn’t uncomfortable being so close to David anymore; in fact, he’d discovered that David was even better to cuddle with than a woman. He liked being wrapped up in David’s arms, and he could also appreciate what David’s touch did to his body. Every morning he woke up hard and aching, and every morning the idea of rubbing against David until he came sounded better and better. Trace chewed his bottom lip as he looked at David craftily.
David narrowed his eyes suspiciously. He knew that Trace was becoming comfortable with their kisses, but he still wasn’t sure where this was headed. Stopping his fingers’ torment, he leaned back on the arm of the couch, stretching one leg out on the cushions, the other resting on the floor. “I’ll consider it, but you have to kiss me and I’ll be the judge.”
Trace scrambled up on his knees on the cushion, looking over at David. “So the kiss has to be good enough or I get tickled again, huh?” he asked, amusement twinkling in his eyes. He loved this teasing between them. It fed his own natural flirtiness. This was different from their normal hanging out from years past—and better. He scooted closer on his knees toward David.
A smug smile spread over David’s face. “That’s the idea.”
“Hmmph. I’ve been told I am an excellent kisser, I’ll have you know,” Trace retorted playfully, shifting until he was as close as he could get without actually lying on top of the other man.
A sharp tug on his belt loops brought him crashing down on top of David. “So prove it.”
Trace caught himself on one hand, but not before their bodies thumped together and his hair tumbled over his shoulder. He hummed in consideration, being challenged, and slowly pressed their lips together. It was a light, caressing motion. Smiling, Trace pressed more firmly, extending his tongue to trace along David’s lower lip before he gently sucked that bottom lip between his own.
David’s lips curved as Trace’s caressed them, gasping as the kiss grew more aggressive. Angling his chin, he caught and sucked at Trace’s tongue, his legs falling open and arching up as Trace’s body settled against his groin.
Trace rubbed close, deepening the kiss into a hot, passionate mesh of lips and tongues. He raised one hand to delve into David’s hair and hold him in place.
One of David’s hands ran over the swell of Trace’s ass and higher, slipping under the soft shirt and kneading the muscles of the broad back. Trace put all his effort into the kiss, groaning as he felt David’s hands on him and his body’s reaction. It happened faster every time. Sometimes David just had to look at him with that glint in his eyes and Trace’s pulse sped.
Dragging his lips away from Trace’s, David buried his face against Trace’s neck, trying to calm his racing heart. Every time they touched, it got worse, harder to stop. David didn’t want to pressure Trace. He was always excruciatingly aware that this was Trace’s first time trying for a relationship with a man that was more tha
n simple friendship, and he didn’t want to do anything that would damage that friendship. It would be one thing if Trace wasn’t as affected as David was, but he was.
David arched up against him, and Trace could feel the hard length of the other man’s erection pressing against him. Head tipping back, Trace gasped as he felt David’s thigh slide hard against him—against his now-hard cock—and his eyes rolled back in his head. “Jesus,” he whispered starkly, and he shuddered as he shifted his hips to tentatively push back. “David, oh God….”
David’s stomach flipped, a shiver traveling up his spine, his nipples hardening into tight peaks. How did you resist when the man of your dreams was lying in your arms making delicious, needy noises? He gripped the back of Trace’s head with one hand and his hip with the other, holding him close but still. His lips grazing Trace’s ear, he rasped, “If we’re stopping, we need to do it right now. If we don’t, I’m going to make you come. My hip. My hands. My mouth. I don’t care….”
Every night since the poker game, Trace had gone to sleep thinking about David touching him—gently as they kissed, playfully as they tussled, distractedly as they worked, and passionately, at times like this. The idea was more than firmly set in his mind, and Trace was so turned on because the idea of David’s hands, David’s mouth on him made his head spin. “Please, David,” he asked, lips grazing David’s cheek as he pulled his head up to meet his eyes. Trace wanted the other man to know that he really wanted this. “Don’t stop.”
With a throaty groan, David’s mouth crashed into Trace’s, all gentleness gone from his kiss. This was claiming, possession, passion in its most elemental form. David’s hips ground up again, his legs spreading wider, cradling Trace against the intimate juncture of his body. Trace felt swept under with David’s kiss, swept off his feet, swept along with the wild current. He didn’t want anything different. He gave as good as he got, arms curling around David as best he could as he moved against David’s hips. The hard muscle of his thighs and the hard cock covered by denim were equally enflaming—David was as turned on as he was. Trace gasped against David’s mouth and for the first time pushed himself hard against David to get more stimulation, choking out a soft cry as pleasure burned through him. Dear God. They were making out on the fucking couch like a couple of teenagers, and he was about to go up in flames.
Dreamspinner Press Year Three Greatest Hits Page 124
