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And right then, nothing had been more important to him in all of his life. He kissed Will as if their lives depended on it. Their tongues tangled slowly while their wet bodies moved together, seeking that delicious friction. He blindly grabbed the conditioner and used it to loosen Will’s tight body while never breaking off the kiss that stretched on and on.
When Will was panting and desperate, Charlie turned him toward the tile and pressed inside of him. It was the one and only time in his life he’d been bare with anyone. Both he and Will were religious about protection. He’d stopped sleeping with anyone else long ago, and he knew Will wasn’t straying, but they’d never given up the condoms. Until now.
Nothing had ever felt so good.
Nor had he ever felt so close to another person.
Will’s cries of ecstasy were still ringing in his ears years later. They lost themselves in that moment that Charlie wished would never end. Will was his completely. Only his.
But too soon, Will’s body tightened and he shouted Charlie’s name as he came on the white tile. Charlie followed right behind him, filling his lover’s body.
Charlie’s eyes jolted open and he was startled to find himself hard and alone in the shower. Swearing at himself, he turned the water to cold and rinsed off the soap.
He was losing his mind.
This couldn’t continue.
He was clinging to a ghost.
Yes, they had great memories together, but they’d been apart for six years. They’d both changed. Even if he could convince Will to give him a second chance, were they even compatible any longer?
There was only one way to find out.
If he was going to lose Will forever, he’d rather know that he’d at least tried to win him back. This bullshit of holding on to a memory wasn’t going to cut it. He wanted the man who looked at him with fire in his eyes.
He wanted to taste that fire.
And so much more.
8
WILL MONROE
Will shoved his hands deeper into the pockets of his thick jacket and ducked his head closer to his collar to block the rush of wind. The burger he’d grabbed at the tiny restaurant for a late dinner was sitting greasy and heavy in his stomach, filling him with regret. It had tasted good, and he’d been craving something that reminded him of home.
Home.
Wasn’t that a funny concept?
He’d returned to the States a handful of times after finishing his residency but never stayed for more than a few weeks at most. He’d visit with family and old friends. Each and every one of them would beg him to stay, set down roots, remind him that doctors were desperately needed there, too.
But then a new request or assignment would come in, and he’d grab his bag as he headed for his next flight abroad. As soon as he’d sit in that cramped chair, something would loosen in his chest. He could take a deep breath and his heart would give an excited skip, thoughts of being lost and empty fading away. He’d have purpose again. Direction.
A voice in the back of his head would whisper that he was running, but he usually managed to ignore it.
Until he saw Charlie.
That damn voice had grown louder since Charlie reappeared in his life.
Was that all he’d been doing for the past six years? Running and hiding in foreign countries, spending all his time up to his elbows in blood, death, and desperation so he didn’t have to think about how his heart had been broken?
Yes, he’d done some good over the past several years. Saved lives. Strengthened communities.
But if that was true, why did he feel so empty inside?
It was his own fault. He couldn’t even blame it on Charlie. He was the one who hadn’t done anything about moving on. Yes, he’d faked dating in the past few years, but he’d known deep down that his heart wasn’t in it. He’d done it out of loneliness, or it was something he’d felt like he was supposed to be doing. It had never been because he’d truly felt something for the other person.
Will let a sigh slip between his lips. He needed to get his head on straight. To do something about his life—something about his personal life, at least. It was time to let go of this old anger and frustration. To fucking move on.
Seeing Charlie only served as a brutal wake-up call for himself.
Charlie had moved on with his life. Charlie was probably happy and didn’t have an ounce of regret about their past. He likely regarded their past as a good memory and continued doing whatever he wanted.
And that was what Will needed to figure out.
He and Charlie had spent a great year together. They’d laughed and had fun. Then it had ended.
Besides, it had been five days since they’d last seen each other. It was likely Charlie and the rest of his crew had left Buenos Aires. He was never going to see him again.
