The One That Got Away by Madeleine Urban, Rhianne Aile Page B

that’s all I do. Thing is with these fancy restaurants, they bring you course after course after course—and even two or three bites adds up.” Trace shifted on the chair. “I think I’ll just explode right here. It’ll be easier to clean the tile than the carpet.”
    “I’d rather you not explode anywhere in my house if it’s just the same with you. Finally,” David sighed as the light on the coffeemaker lit up.
    Trace looked over, amused. “I swear, I think you love that coffee more than the cheesecake.”
    David grinned. “It’s a mutual love affair. Each makes the other better.” Slipping the first forkful of cheesecake into his mouth, he closed his lips around the fork, his eyes closing in orgasmic bliss. “Mmmmm….”
    Trace chuckled. “See, I know how to turn you into a big pussy cat,”
    he said with a smile. “Who else knows that?”
    “Might be better than sex,” David murmured, taking a sip of his coffee. “Will you marry me?”
    “I don’t know. You’re awful difficult to live with,” Trace said with a wink. “Although I like your house a hell of a lot more than my apartment.”
    He toed out of his shoes, leaving them under the table, and got up to grab a bottle of water.
    “Well, you know high-maintenance partners are the best lovers,”
    David teased back.
    Trace turned around and leered at him. “High maintenance, are we?”  he drawled. “My, my, really opening up now, aren’t we? I’ll have you know I have never had any complaints.”
    David chuckled, a low seductive sound prompted by the late hour and really good cheesecake. “If we were playing poker, I’d call.”
    The younger man grinned, amazed at the sex just dripping from David’s voice. It was like nothing he’d ever heard from his friend, and he surprised himself by shivering. “Good thing we’re not, ’cause I suck at bluffing,” he said, screwing the top off the water bottle and taking a drink before sighing gustily. “No food until three p.m. tomorrow, I swear to God,” he muttered.
    “Poor baby,” the blond purred. “How many restaurants do you have tomorrow night?”
    Trace covered his face with both hands and moaned. “Three more.”
    He made a mocking sobbing noise, only to look up and not see any sympathy from David. In fact, David was going at the cheesecake like a starving man. “David, I know you love cheesecake, but you eat that much sugar that fast, you’ll be the one who’s sick.”
    “I might have forgotten to eat dinner,” David admitted, putting the fork down long enough to take a sip of coffee.
    Trace’s eyes narrowed. “Might have forgotten? I’m betting you remember one way or the other.”
    David’s eyes shifted guiltily to the floor. “I ate lunch,” he justified.
    Glancing at the clock, Trace closed his eyes for a moment and visibly restrained himself. He leaned back on the counter, hands clenching on the edge as he swallowed the urge to get angry, and made a decision.
    “Okay. Well, you just solved one of my problems,” he said, voice deceptively casual despite the unhappy bent to his shoulders.
    Confused, David stared at Trace, brows drawn together. “Huh?”
    Trace pushed himself away from the counter and walked over to David, setting one hand on the table and one on the back of David’s chair.
    He leaned down close to meet David’s eyes. “I’m taking you out and wining and dining you tomorrow night.”
    A shiver traveled up David’s spine, even though he knew that Trace didn’t mean it the way it sounded. An unexpected pang that Trace wasn’t actually asking him out shot through David’s gut. To regain his balance, he teased back. “Sure you can afford me?”
    “Oh, tomorrow night, money is no object. Caviar and champagne, filet mignon and crusted Australian bass, lobster bisque and duck salad, scallop crostinis, French vanilla crème brûlée…. Whatever your little heart desires, you can have,” Trace said, his voice smooth and dark, like