Page 87 of Worth the Wait
Freddie smiled. “Maybe you need ointment. A balm. Lubrication, maybe? What else do you mechanics use to quiet down a moaning engine?”
“Moaning engine, huh? That what you call yourself?”
“I can moan as good as any battered motor.”
“Bet you can.”
Freddie chuckled, then looked up at him through hooded lashes. “So…for clarity and transparency. We’re doing this again?”
Nathan kissed him. “I’d say so.”
He then spun, running down the stairs and out of Freddie’s door.
Chapter seventeen
Serve and Protect
Freddie didn’t sleep much.
No surprise there, really.
He’d thought after two mind-blowing orgasms he’d have passed out til Sunday. But it wasn’twhathad happened that kept him awake. It waswho.
Nathan Carter.
Fifteen years of imagining that moment.
Fifteen years of half-remembered touches and what-ifs, running mental scripts of how it might go when,if, Nathan ever came back. Some versions ended in shouting. Others in declarations. Some in kisses that meant everything. Some with nothing at all.
Reality?
It had landed somewhere far messier.
Hot and hard, breathless and brutal. Not tender, or slow, butreal. Clinging. Desperate. As if their bodies remembered something their mouths still hadn’t learnedhow to say. And somehow, it was more than Freddie ever let himself hope for. Because Nathan didn’t just want him.
Hestillwanted him.
This wasn’t about scratching an itch. Wasn’t about nostalgia, or unfinished business. It had weight. Legs.Possibility.
Okay, so they hadn’t talked about what came next. Not really. No talk of labels, of what they were now. Fuck, they hadn’t even exchanged numbers. Nor did he know how Nathan knew where he lived. Were they still expected to keep sneaking around like the ghosts of their teenage selves or walk into the light of day as something solid, seen, claimed? But Freddie feltsomething. Something worth holding onto, even if it was complicated as fuck.
And maybe that was what made it worse. Lying in the faux dark, staring at the ceiling, wondering who Nathan had been with during the years between. Because it hadn’t just been Freddie left in the wreckage. Nathan had lived. Loved, maybe. He said he’d been with Katie but there had to have been others. Men? Women? Who had touched that skin? Who had kissed that mouth? Traced that tattoo with their tongue?
Those thoughts sent acid sliding through his chest.
Anger. Jealousy.Regret.
Sleep never stood a chance.
So, a little after five, he dragged himself out of bed and hit the gym early before the after-work crowd descended, all full of protein shakes and poor form.
The weather outside was grim. Low clouds clung to the rooftops, a grey making the whole town look as if it had forgotten how to breathe. Worthbridge always had a way of feeling heavier when something pressed on his mind. The streetsknew.
After the gym, Freddie swung by the café just off Station Square where the usual lad behind the counter, who changed his hair colour more often than Freddie changed his socks, was sporting a neon green fringe today.
He raised an eyebrow. “Night shift?”
“Yeah.” Freddie couldn’t quite keep the grumble out of his voice.
