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

lane that led back into town from the exclusive French restaurant they’d visited last. This time, he was pleasantly full, not ill like the previous night, because luckily, he’d had someone to share it with. He glanced over to David. “So what’d you think about that one?” They had dined outside on a terrace, the table furnished with china, silver, crystal and linen—definitely a romantic atmosphere— and the food had been unbelievable. To his experienced tastes, even.
    Totally worth his ultra-rare four-star designation.
    David’s head rolled lethargically to the side to see Trace, long hair blowing in the wind. Keeping the top down had been an excellent idea, even if they’d had to spike the heat to stay comfortable. “Definitely a ‘sure thing’ kind of place.”
    A huge grin split Trace’s face, and he tried to bite his tongue. But it was so easy. “You telling me you’re a sure thing?”
    “If I thought you had any inclination, I’d let you fuck me through the mattress,” David murmured in a sleepy, sated voice, his eyes already closed, the wind whipping his hair around his face as he drifted off to sleep, lulled by the rich food, good wine, and steady vibration of the convertible.
    Trace froze with both hands on the steering wheel, looking straight out at the road. But he wasn’t seeing it. His mind exploded with visions of  what David had just said, and he had to swallow hard and blink to make sure he was watching where he was driving. What the…? He chanced a look in David’s direction to see that his friend looked to be asleep. Trace let out a long, shaky breath. The evening had been rife with a tension Trace had never before felt with David. He shifted in the seat uncomfortably, and a few moments after the fact he realized why. He was aroused. Terribly, undeniably aroused by the images David’s words had evoked. He dragged a hand through his hair, panic welling in his throat.
    His hand moved to cover his mouth as he choked on a scared laugh. What the hell?
    By time, the grace of God, and sheer willpower, Trace calmed just as he pulled into David’s driveway. The other man was exhausted and probably more than a little drunk—and on painkillers to boot. Drugs made you do and say crazy things, right? And the ideas had already been in his own head after that meet-up with Matt. Perhaps David was just free-associating, but… he’d made it clear he knew who he was talking to.
    David knew he was straight and happy that way. Trace sighed and open the car door, pushing one leg out and leaning back in his seat to look up at the sky.
    Looked like he had quite a bit of thinking to do.
    Fingers tapping lightly on the steering wheel, after a bit Trace shifted to spend quite a few minutes just looking at David, studying him like he’d never thought to before. Admittedly, he hadn’t been kidding when he made his claim about being out with a hell of a good-looking man. He had no problem saying which men looked better than others, in his opinion.
    The more he thought about it, he wondered how much his opinions had been formed with David as the benchmark.
    Finally he reached over, intending to shake David’s arm, but instead his fingers moved to the soft blond hair, and he petted it on purpose, just to feel—not to make a point, not to give comfort, but just because he  wanted to. After a few heartbeats he drew back, blinking in confusion.
    David wouldn’t appreciate that, would he? Still curious, Trace reached out again to comb his fingers through the wind-ruffled hair, wondering if it would wake the other man.
    David’s head turned on the headrest, pressing into the loving touch without waking. His lashes fluttered momentarily before he settled back into a deep sleep, his lips parting as his jaw relaxed. Trace leaned sideways against his seat, head pillowed against the leather as he gazed across the two feet to his hand sliding through golden hair, and he smiled softly as David relaxed. To be so