Read Online The One That Got Away by Madeleine Urban, Rhianne Aile - Free Book Online
Authors: Madeleine Urban, Rhianne Aile
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velvet.
David shivered again. Cheesecake and a seductive Trace were more than his system could handle. Unable to tear his eyes away from the chocolate gaze, he swallowed audibly, nodding because he didn’t trust his voice.
“Oh yeah, baby,” Trace crooned, leaning closer. “You are going to all three restaurants with me. I’ll make sure you eat. And you’ll love every… single… succulent… moment of it.”
“Enough, Trace. I’ll go. Now go sit down like a good little straight boy before I jump you,” David warned, his tone teasing.
Trace grinned and leaned just enough to quickly kiss the very tip of David’s nose before standing up and moving back to the other side of the table, water bottle in hand. He sat down, smug, looking very pleased with himself. And he was: This meant that not only would he have David’s wonderful company instead of nervous waiters, but he’d only have to eat half as much food! Why hadn’t he thought of this before?
DAVID looked at himself in the mirror. His black linen pants were drawn up over his hips but not fastened. He’d gotten his T-shirt on and his shirt over his shoulders. Of course, the buttons weren’t done. Well, he was as ready as he was going to get. Taking a deep breath, he called, “Oh, Trace, I need my valet!” He heard a bark of laughter from the bathroom, and, rolling his eyes, David fixed his glare on the bathroom door so that Trace would feel its full impact when he walked through. The glare and his breathing faltered when Trace appeared. Fuck! Trace was good-looking at his worst, but dressed to kill, he was breathtaking. Unable to form a coherent comment, he just stared as his friend walked toward him.
Trace had broken out more than the run-of-the-mill everyday dress clothes, choosing a silvery-gray suit of lighter material that emphasized the long, lean lines of his body, and his hair was loose and on his shoulders, styled in that popular windblown look, held into place with judicious use of mousse. He’d even shaved.
Looking over at David, Trace raised a brow. “Oh master, I heed thy summons,” he said with a chuckle. David’s glare didn’t faze Trace one bit; he’d seen it before and would see it again, he was sure. He sauntered over and stopped in front of him, starting to button his shirt from the top down, smoothing the fine white fabric as he went. It was hard to miss the lightly muscled body underneath, and Trace was quietly appreciative. He knew it took a lot to stay in shape. He tucked the shirttails into David’s slacks, hands coasting over his hips to make sure the material didn’t bunch. Trace looked up as he pulled the pants up slightly and folded the placket together, and he noticed the odd look on David’s face. “What’s up? You look like you forgot something,” he said as he buttoned the trousers.
Yeah, my brain, the blond thought. What had possessed him to think that Trace moving in with him while he recovered was a good idea? Of course, Trace hadn’t really given him a choice in the matter. The corners of his mouth drew up slightly at how pigheaded his friend could be. David bit his cheek, willing his body to behave as the brunet’s hands skimmed his body. He really needed to get laid, but couldn’t see having a conversation with Trace about needing a night alone when Trace had done so much for him. He was quite sure, though, that his thoroughly straight friend wasn’t going to want to do what he really needed at the moment.
Shaking his head, he looked down and watched as Trace’s long, blunt fingers buttoned, zipped, and buckled him up.
“There you go,” Trace said as he slid his hand along David’s belly to make sure the shirt lay down properly. That flat belly was another sign of how much David worked out. He lifted his hands to fasten the top button under his chin. “Wearing a tie?” he asked. His own was the same silver as the suit, and it caught the light when he moved.
“Yeah. If you’re
David shivered again. Cheesecake and a seductive Trace were more than his system could handle. Unable to tear his eyes away from the chocolate gaze, he swallowed audibly, nodding because he didn’t trust his voice.
“Oh yeah, baby,” Trace crooned, leaning closer. “You are going to all three restaurants with me. I’ll make sure you eat. And you’ll love every… single… succulent… moment of it.”
“Enough, Trace. I’ll go. Now go sit down like a good little straight boy before I jump you,” David warned, his tone teasing.
Trace grinned and leaned just enough to quickly kiss the very tip of David’s nose before standing up and moving back to the other side of the table, water bottle in hand. He sat down, smug, looking very pleased with himself. And he was: This meant that not only would he have David’s wonderful company instead of nervous waiters, but he’d only have to eat half as much food! Why hadn’t he thought of this before?
DAVID looked at himself in the mirror. His black linen pants were drawn up over his hips but not fastened. He’d gotten his T-shirt on and his shirt over his shoulders. Of course, the buttons weren’t done. Well, he was as ready as he was going to get. Taking a deep breath, he called, “Oh, Trace, I need my valet!” He heard a bark of laughter from the bathroom, and, rolling his eyes, David fixed his glare on the bathroom door so that Trace would feel its full impact when he walked through. The glare and his breathing faltered when Trace appeared. Fuck! Trace was good-looking at his worst, but dressed to kill, he was breathtaking. Unable to form a coherent comment, he just stared as his friend walked toward him.
Trace had broken out more than the run-of-the-mill everyday dress clothes, choosing a silvery-gray suit of lighter material that emphasized the long, lean lines of his body, and his hair was loose and on his shoulders, styled in that popular windblown look, held into place with judicious use of mousse. He’d even shaved.
Looking over at David, Trace raised a brow. “Oh master, I heed thy summons,” he said with a chuckle. David’s glare didn’t faze Trace one bit; he’d seen it before and would see it again, he was sure. He sauntered over and stopped in front of him, starting to button his shirt from the top down, smoothing the fine white fabric as he went. It was hard to miss the lightly muscled body underneath, and Trace was quietly appreciative. He knew it took a lot to stay in shape. He tucked the shirttails into David’s slacks, hands coasting over his hips to make sure the material didn’t bunch. Trace looked up as he pulled the pants up slightly and folded the placket together, and he noticed the odd look on David’s face. “What’s up? You look like you forgot something,” he said as he buttoned the trousers.
Yeah, my brain, the blond thought. What had possessed him to think that Trace moving in with him while he recovered was a good idea? Of course, Trace hadn’t really given him a choice in the matter. The corners of his mouth drew up slightly at how pigheaded his friend could be. David bit his cheek, willing his body to behave as the brunet’s hands skimmed his body. He really needed to get laid, but couldn’t see having a conversation with Trace about needing a night alone when Trace had done so much for him. He was quite sure, though, that his thoroughly straight friend wasn’t going to want to do what he really needed at the moment.
Shaking his head, he looked down and watched as Trace’s long, blunt fingers buttoned, zipped, and buckled him up.
“There you go,” Trace said as he slid his hand along David’s belly to make sure the shirt lay down properly. That flat belly was another sign of how much David worked out. He lifted his hands to fasten the top button under his chin. “Wearing a tie?” he asked. His own was the same silver as the suit, and it caught the light when he moved.
“Yeah. If you’re
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