Dreamspinner Press Year Three Greatest Hits

by Jenna Hilary Sinclair

  “You cannot be serious!”

  David turned his chin to see Trace again emerging from the hall, a pair of jeans hanging by a belt loop from Trace’s long finger. “Those are my favorite jeans!” David claimed.

  “These jeans are worse than my jeans,” Trace said, absolutely sure David would get arrested for wearing these jeans in most cities. That, or propositioned.

  “They are not. They’re perfectly decent,” David insisted.

  “Uh huh. Then put them on and show me how decent they are,” Trace suggested, swinging the jeans back and forth on his finger.

  David met Trace’s eyes, lips twitching. Those pair of denim jeans had been washed and washed and washed and washed over the years—Wranglers really lasted. He’d had that one pair of jeans since college. College. Not that he’d admit that to Trace. Besides, he was ridiculously proud of the fact that he could still fit into the damn things. There was no way he was getting rid of them.

  “David?”

  Blinking away his thoughts, David huffed and shifted a protesting Mabel onto the couch so he could stand up. He stripped down to nothing—Trace’s brow was climbing, but David never wore anything under the most comfortable jeans in the world—and walked over to Trace to pull the jeans out of his hands, step into them, pull them up, and carefully rotate his shoulder forward so he could do up the button fly.

  Trace cleared his throat, eyes very wide as they took in the sight of the very soft, very snug, very well-fitted jeans that fit David’s body like a tailored glove. “Jesus,” Trace breathed. Now his pants were very well-fitted. Too well-fitted.

  David raised an eyebrow. “What?” he asked. He watched intently as Trace’s tongue extended ever-so-slightly to moisten his lips as he walked in a circle around David.

  “You’re proposing wearing these jeans around the guys?” Trace asked. He didn’t like that idea at all. While he knew Matt wasn’t a threat, he wasn’t too sure about Patrick.

  “Sure,” David said with a shrug. “Wouldn’t be the first time.” In fact, Matt was with me when I bought them.

  Trace reached out to cup David’s ass firmly before spreading his fingers over the faded fabric, following the curve of a muscled, lean buttock and sliding two long fingers into a mass of worn threads barely holding together to stroke bare skin. “It’s not that I don’t like seeing your ass,” Trace drawled as he pinched, “but I’m not sure I want to share it with everybody else.”

  David slowly smiled. “Is that so?” Fuck. Just the thought of Trace feeling possessive….

  Trace’s hand covered the very well-defined bulge in the front of David’s jeans. “I think you like that,” he murmured. “Like knowing that I don’t want to share?”

  “Yeah,” David admitted huskily. “I like it.”

  Trace moved to stand in front of him, hand still on David’s ass, and kissed him gently. “I think I do too.”

  David swallowed hard as the sexual tension zinged between them, and their bodies leaned together like one magnet attracting the other. Trace squeezed again and stepped back.

  “That’s settled then,” Trace announced.

  “Settled? What’s settled?” David asked, feeling a bolt of panic. He was not getting rid of his jeans.

  “You need some casual clothes. New jeans, a nice pair of khakis, maybe a pair of walking shorts,” Trace said with a nod. “We’re going shopping.”

  Then the panic really struck. “Shorts! But Trace,” he almost whined. “Shopping? Not the mall on a Saturday! It’ll be full of teenagers performing their ritualistic mating dance.”

  “That’s okay. We’ll muddle through.” Trace reached up with both hands to catch David’s face. “Because you’re not wearing those jeans, got it? They’re indecent.”

  “I’ll show you indecent,” David promised as he reached for Trace, but Trace edged away just enough.

  “C’mon. Sooner done, sooner home and I might—”

  “Reward me for putting up with the mall,” David finished, already looking forward to it.

  Trace just smiled. He had plans for David, those jeans, and a little hands-on fitting.

  “DON’T SPILL the salsa,” David warned when Matt bumped him from behind as he topped off the bowl. He hadn’t seen his friend approach, but he could hear Trace still talking to the others in the dining room, and Matt was the only other guy present comfortable enough with full body contact. David wondered exactly when he had started unconsciously keeping track of Trace’s whereabouts. It probably had something to do with the unrelieved sexual tension from their shopping trip.

  It hadn’t been nearly as horrid as David had predicted, thanks in no small part to Trace’s touchy-feely tendency to grope him every time they stepped into a dressing room. Unfortunately the trip had taken longer than either of them had expected, and there had been no time to do anything but pull out the snacks for the game and give the living room a cursory straighten before Matt had arrived, the other guys close behind him.

  “I see Mabel has made herself right at home.” Matt laughed as Patrick cursed the “flea-ridden furball” and tossed her off the table for the umpteenth time. She seemed to think that poker chips had been invented just for her amusement.

  David grinned, glancing over his shoulder into the other room, his eyes catching Trace’s and warming.

  “Her owner too,” Matt drawled.

  “Yeah.” David dragged his eyes back to the block of cheese he was slicing. There hadn’t been time to make dinner before the guys arrived, so they were having a cold buffet on the fly.

  “Yeah? That’s all you have to say? Come on. Things have obviously progressed beyond the bi-curious stage.”

  David felt his gut tighten. “Oh, he’s still curious….”

  “So?”

  Normally David had no problem sharing personal details with Matt, but he was reluctant to share what was developing between him and Trace—as if close examination would damage it in some way. “Did I thank you for giving me a push?” he asked instead.

  Matt stared at him for several drawn-out moments. “No, but I’m glad it’s working out. It has been too long since you’ve had anybody special. I could wish he worked for a different paper and rooted for a decent baseball team, but other than that, he’s damn close to perfect.”

  “It’s been a while for you too.” David watched his friend shift. Matt usually diverted serious conversations with humor, but his glib comeback didn’t materialize.

  “Longer than I care to acknowledge. I think I’m past the stage where I’m going to make that connection. Too old for anyone to look at seriously.” Looking over his shoulder, he watched Mabel stick her paw into Trace’s glass, as if she was trying to fish something out of the scotch. “Maybe I should get a cat.”

  David snorted. “That’ll be the day. A dog, maybe, but you are not a cat person.”

  “Dogs are too much work.”

  “Which is exactly why you don’t have a boyfriend.” Putting down the knife, David reached up and tugged at Matt’s collar. “People take work, too, and they don’t sit at home just waiting for you to walk through the door so they can shower you with love.”

  “Exactly what is wrong with them!” Matt smirked, disappearing behind his shields again, and David wagged a finger at him.

  “You guys in this hand or not?” Patrick called from the other room.

  “I’m in,” Matt answered, retreating before David could continue their conversation.

  David sighed and scooped the cheese and crackers onto the crumb-covered tray. He briefly considered if Matt and Patrick might make a good pair before deciding that they’d kill each other in a week. What was it about being in love that made you want everyone in your life to find someone too?

  David stood there at the counter and stared at the food. In love. He loved Trace, very much, and he didn’t know if he should say something about it. What if it was a deal breaker? What if Trace’s desire to explore what was between them extended only as far as friends and
lovers without the step to actual commitment? David groaned. He knew he was just nervous in general about their relationship. Trace had given him no reason to doubt how good they were together.

  Picking up the tray, David moved to the doorway to the dining room and his eyes connected with Trace’s as he moved around the table to his chair. Trace’s heated gaze was stripping the new clothes from his body, and David let the buzz push his worry aside. Now if I can just survive until it is a reasonable time to shove these guys out the door….

  Chapter 14

  DAVID HUMMED happily, setting the casserole dish on the stove, ready for the oven. He’d cheated and bought a tray of manicotti from his favorite Italian restaurant, but when it came to cooking, he figured the end justified the means. Matt had dropped the food off at lunchtime with only a minimum of teasing about having to deliver David’s traditional “date dinner.” David couldn’t quit thinking about Trace coming home. He laughed softly at himself for being so domestic. He’d gotten approval from the physical therapist to do three half-days at work next week and couldn’t wait to share the news.

  Hearing the door open, David called out, “I’m in the kitchen!”

  “’kay!” Trace answered.

  David listened to Trace’s footsteps and plastic rustling heading back to the office—to hang up the dry cleaning. But when Trace didn’t appear after a couple minutes, David headed down the hall. Trace was standing there, looking at the moderate amount of clean clothes—his—that had started stacking up on the shelves in the closet, gnawing at the side of his thumb.

  “Did you get lost?” David asked from the doorway, watching as Trace stared into the closet. Walking up behind him, he wrapped his arms around the slender waist, propping his chin on Trace’s shoulder. “You should have told me you had dry cleaning. I had them deliver mine this afternoon. They could have thrown in yours and saved you the trip.”

  “It was no trouble,” Trace said, covering David’s hands with his own. He turned his chin to kiss David’s temple.

  “I got good news today. They released me to go back to work.”

  Trace frowned. Already? Just like that, he was healed up and ready to go? “You aren’t ready for a full—”

  David put a hand on Trace’s chest. “Not full-time and I still can’t drive, but Attila the Hun said I could start back half-days next week.”

  “Would that be Attila the therapist or Attila your doctor’s nurse?”

  “I obviously need to find some new slurs.” David laughed. “The physical therapist.”

  “Does he know how much typing you do?” Trace asked, still not convinced. He glanced to David’s shoulder with another frown.

  “Eh… what difference does that make? It is all hunt and peck anyway. One-handed or two, I’m slow as molasses.”

  Trace sighed and pulled David into his arms and brushed a light kiss over his lips. “I’m proud of you. You’ve been working really hard on your exercises and it’s paying off. I know you’ve been getting stir-crazy. I’m just worried it won’t be totally healed up and something will happen to hurt it again.”

  “It’ll be fine.” David laid his head on Trace’s shoulder. “It would have been a lot harder without you around to keep me sane.” Threading their fingers together, he pulled Trace toward the door.

  Trace slid the closet door closed. “I’ve accumulated a ton of stuff over here. It’s going to take multiple trips to get them home again. I bet you’ll be glad to fill this closet back up with all that junk you took out to make room for me,” he said, poking fun at David’s pack-rat habits.

  David stumbled, Trace’s hand immediately steadying him. He’d been so happy about having Trace in his life that he’d been living completely in the moment. He had no idea what Trace might be thinking of for the future. “Uhmmm, yeah.” His stomach fluttered in a strange way. “Dinner is almost ready if you want to eat,” he managed to choke out around the lump in his throat, his own appetite completely gone. How could he have not considered that Trace would be thinking of leaving?

  The tight sound of David’s voice worried Trace, and he turned to see the other man’s frown. “Hey, what’s this?” Trace reached up to rub the furrow on David’s brow. Had David gotten as attached to him as he had to David? “Don’t you want your house back to yourself?” he asked curiously. “Don’t think I’m leaving you; no way that’s happening,” he asserted as he gently pulled David back against him.

  Looking up into the clear brown eyes, David sighed, relaxing slightly. He could understand Trace wanting to go back to his own home, his own routine. He’d just have to deal with it or do his best to convince him to stay. “It’s going to feel pretty empty without you. I got manicotti from Angelo’s.”

  “I love Angelo’s,” Trace said with a grin. He kissed David lightly and rubbed their noses together. “C’mon. Quick shower, and then feed me,” he said, taking David’s hand and pulling him toward the kitchen. “’Cause then I have plans.”

  David picked the conversation right back up when they were at the kitchen counter forty-five minutes later. “I hope those plans involve me getting you hot and sweaty,” David purred, letting his momentum press Trace into the counter when they reached the kitchen.

  Trace hummed happily as David pressed up against him. “Oh yeah,” he said throatily, nipping at the other man’s neck. He groaned as his belly cramped with need. “We better eat fast, or I’m gonna hit my knees right here.”

  God, he wanted to. He’d not tried it yet, but he’d slowly been coming to the realization that he wanted to. He’d tasted David on his fingers, and he’d held him in his hand. But he wanted more. He wanted to see David come apart just like David made him fall to pieces. Or he’d at least like to try to make it happen.

  David trembled at that husky promise, his nipples and cock hardening instantly. His hips rocked forward against Trace’s leg; his hands went sliding down to cup the curve of his ass and pull him closer. “You’d really…? You want…?” He swallowed, unable to finish the sentence with the images flooding his mind.

  Nodding and rubbing his cheek against David’s, Trace slid his hands to grip David’s upper arms as the images flooded his mind. “Yeah,” he said huskily. “Wanna try. Want to make you feel what I do when you do it to me.”

  A chill raced up David’s spine. Dinner was highly overrated, and wasn’t pasta always best reheated anyway?

  Trace’s hand dropped down to caress David through his jeans, reminding him of the serious groping that had gone on in the dressing rooms at the mall. David groaned and moved his hips against Trace’s hand as his heart pounded. It was enough to make something snap inside Trace.

  Trace groaned and moved his hips against David as his heart pounded faster. “Okay,” he breathed. “Dessert first.” He lowered himself to one knee, his hands dragging down David’s body. Once on both knees he turned David’s hips so the other man leaned back against the counter and started to unfasten his jeans.

  David gulped, looking down at his lover. “Trace? Trace!” he said, tugging on Trace’s shirt.

  Heated brown eyes shifted up to glance at David. With his lover’s surprised tone, Trace felt calm descend upon him. He smiled sweetly and nuzzled David’s thickening cock through his boxers. “Yeah?”

  Exhaling a stuttering breath, David sagged slightly as his knees went weak. “Can we? I want…. Not in the kitchen.” His eyes darted toward the door, incapable of coherency with Trace’s mouth that close to his cock.

  Trace tipped his head back. “Okay,” he said agreeably. He climbed to his feet. “What do you want?” he asked, leaning in close to kiss along David’s jaw.

  “You,” David sighed. “God. You. Bed or couch. Don’t care, but I need to sit down before my knees give out.”

  Chuckling, Trace took his hand and led the way into the hallway heading toward the bedroom. “I sure know that feeling,” he said wryly. At the side of the bed he pulled David into his arms for another heated kiss, plunging his tongue into the
other man’s mouth in as close a claim as he’d ever made. He wanted David so badly.

  David whimpered, melting against Trace’s body. If he’d been aroused by his friend before, it was nothing compared to the way the world was spinning now. Trace taking control made David’s entire body throb.

  Feeling David give in to him was heady; David had always taken the lead, ever since they’d begun exploring each other, simply because Trace wanted him to. He’d had so much to learn about pleasing a man. But now, now he wanted to be the one in charge. He jerked David against him, hard, grinding their groins together as he kissed the other man hungrily. “Gonna blow your mind,” he growled before biting hard at the juncture of David’s neck and shoulder.

  David’s head tilted of its own accord, a soft mewl escaping. You already have, he thought, glad that the mattress supported the backs of his wobbly knees. At least when they gave out, it wouldn’t hurt. “You touch me and I melt,” he whispered harshly, his lips nudging inside Trace’s collar to lick at his chest.

  Trace purred and tilted his head back to give David more skin to kiss. “We’re even then,” he breathed. He moved his hands from David’s hips to his belly and finished unbuckling his lover’s belt.

  Clothes. Clothes were definitely a hindrance. The thought penetrated David’s pleasure-fogged brain and his hands started to work on untucking Trace’s shirt. “There ought to be a rule against you wearing clothes in the house,” he muttered, cursing as his fingers fumbled with the small buttons.

  Laughing breathlessly, Trace pulled open David’s jeans and shoved them over his hips before yanking at his shirt, sending a popped button to the floor. “Your house, your rules,” he said, leaning in to suck David’s earlobe between his teeth.