Page 49 of Shift Change

I nodded. “You have a way with words, Nate. Momentous is exactly right.”

“Have you noticed something?”

I shook my head.

“Chuck and Nate. We’ve switched to Chuck and Nate tonight. I think that says a lot.”

“I hadn’t thought about it, but you’re right.”

“Can we call each other by our real names, at least when we’re alone? Don’t laugh, but it makes me feel seen.Holkygets old.”

“You think I’d laugh when I drag around a nickname likeMad Dog? I’d like to be Nate and Chuck.”

“Good.” He chuckled. “And so you know, Chuck, that orgasm was A-plus. I was afraid I’d pass out if I didn’t stop shooting.”

“Same, in case you couldn’t tell. I came so hard I nearly went blind.”

He snickered. “I can beat that. Never came so hard in my life.”

Our eyes locked. That was admitting a lot, and if he was going to be honest, so could I. “I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I do you, and I didn’t even know it was possible to come that hard.”

“Well, well.” He put on a shit-eating grin. “Look at us. Maybe we aren’t as straight as we thought we were, at least for now. I think more experimentation is necessary to confirm that.”

“I’m game.”

He rolled on top of me, our mess be damned. We took our time kissing, and when we broke for air, he bounced his eyebrows. “Since we agree on things, let’s try it again.”

My dick, which had never quite gone down, roared back to life. “That’s a damn fine idea.”

* * *

It was still dark when I woke, and everything was quiet. Nate was tucked in against me, his breath warm against my chest, with one leg slung over mine and a hand curled lightly on my stomach. We were a mess of limbs and shared heat, and the sheet had long since abandoned us, pooled somewhere at the foot of the bed.

I lay still, afraid to break whatever spell the night had cast. Across the room, the window glowed faintly as a thin wash of gray bled into the dark sky beyond the frozen river. The snow had stopped. Everything outside looked hushed and soft, a perfect mirror of the quiet wrapped around us here.

The events of last night were still brilliant in my mind. I’d had sex before—good sex. But last night wasn’t merely good; it was a brand-new category, all laughter and breathless moans and clumsy touches that had somehow turned graceful when we found our rhythm. I moaned when I remembered the sound he made when he came.

Needing to piss, I carefully inched away from him. He made a soft, unhappy noise and shifted, burrowing his face into the pillow I’d left behind. I paused, watching his back rise and fall, and let the scene wash over me.

It was 6:30 when I checked my phone. Criswell had texted—bus call at 11:00. I glanced back at Nate. Watching him made something flare deep in my chest. Last night had changed something in me. Not just the sex—though that had rocked my world—but the way everything felt: easy and natural. With women, I’d sometimes thought I needed to remain strong, not make much noise or say anything. It had been the opposite with Nate, as if he’d wanted me to be myself.

I had no regrets, but nerves still jangled in my gut. What if he woke and… did what? Smiled and said it was fun but not for him? That we should forget it and move on?

I’d tell him the truth either way because he deserved to know how I felt, and I wanted to see what came next. If he felt half of what I did, we were in for one hell of a ride.

When I returned from the bathroom, Nate was sprawled on his stomach, a perfect display of muscles and golden skin. His face was still buried in the pillow, and his breaths caused his back to rise and fall. I froze, heat blooming low in my gut as my gaze dropped to the perfect curve of his ass, bare and inviting. Every slow inhale parted the crease slightly, then closed it again, a slow, steady rhythm that made my cock throb with need.

I crossed the room without thinking, lowered myself to the bed, and pressed a kiss to one cheek, then the other. His skin was warm and salty, still carrying the taste of sweat and sex. I dragged my mouth up the center of his spine, chasing a faint tremor that moved through him with every breath.

When I reached the back of his neck, he made a low, rough sound in his throat—a moan of pleasure or a groan of protest?

“You alive?” I asked.

A grunt. Then, “Barely.”

“Last night was incredible, Nate.” My heart thudded, making my voice tremble. “I’m not sorry it happened. I’m glad. Are you… How do you feel about it?”

He turned his head and gave me a lazy grin. “I’m so glad we did it. You were on fire.”

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