Hearts Repaired
Professions of Love Book 1
Caraway Carter
Copyright © 2020 by Never Too Late Books
Cover Art: Natasha Snow
Editing: Sandra at One Love Editing
Proofreading: Sharon Muha & Karen Taylor
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Created with Vellum
To All of you who held my hand, read, suggested, and listened to me complain. This wouldn’t have gotten made without your love and help.
Contents
1. Curtis
2. Lawrence
3. Curtis
4. Lawrence
5. Curtis
6. Lawrence
7. Curtis
8. Lawrence
9. Curtis
10. Lawrence
11. Curtis
12. Lawrence
13. Curtis
14. Lawrence
15. Curtis
16. Lawrence
17. Curtis
18. Lawrence
19. Curtis
20. Lawrence
A Note from Caraway
Hearts Redesigned
About the Author
Also by Caraway Carter
1
Curtis
Curtis lay watching the other man in the room gather his clothing, admiring the shape of his shoulders, remembering feeling protected when he held on to them. Lawrence bent to pick up a pair of black socks and his shoes.
Curtis grinned as Lawrence stood in the room looking for one article that was missing.
“You don’t have to rush out the door,” Curtis said.
“Don’t I?” Lawrence brushed the clothes from the chair to the floor and took a seat. “Oh Lord, you are young.” He ran his hand through short salt-and-pepper hair.
“Come back up here.” Curtis patted the sheet beside him.
Lawrence shook his head. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I bet I’m old enough to be your grandfather.”
“Hardly,” Curtis chuckled and sat up against the headboard. “I’m not as young as you think.” He winked. “Besides, what does it matter? It wasn’t an issue last night. I don’t think either of us thought about age. I seem to remember us both passing out satiated.”
“Aha!” Lawrence lifted his boxer-briefs off the floor with his toe. “I had a heart attack when you began kissing down my neck. I’m not used to men being so forward.”
Curtis bent over and grabbed the underwear away.
“Hey!” Lawrence said, reaching for them and missing.
Curtis backed up, taunting him with the underwear. “Hey, what?”
“Give me those,” Lawrence said indignantly. “Come on.”
Curtis grinned. The handsome, older man was probably used to getting his way, but it wasn’t going to happen this time.
“Nope.” Curtis shook his head to match his word. “I’m being forward again. You’ll get these when you get back up here.” He patted the spot beside him again.
Lawrence rolled his eyes. “Aren’t you going to be late for class or something?” He leaned over Curtis and grabbed at the striped boxer-briefs, then sat down empty-handed on the edge of the bed.
“Ah-ah-ah,” said Curtis, wagging his finger with a grin. “I didn’t say when you’d get them, just that you would—eventually.” Curtis glanced at the phone on the nightstand. “I don’t have to be at work until noon.” He tucked Lawrence’s shorts under his pillow and went back to revisit the neck he’d enjoyed the night before. Lawrence shivered.
“But seriously, what time is it? I’ve got an early appointment today.”
“Then you can reschedule it.” Curtis continued kissing down his shoulder, looking for the spot that had made Lawrence moan last night.
“No, I really c-can’t,” Lawrence stammered, his eyes fluttering closed in spite of himself. “Oh, God, that feels nice.”
“Well, that’s good, because it’s supposed to,” Curtis said, as his lips got to the inside of Lawrence’s elbow.
Lawrence moaned just the way Curtis was hoping.
Curtis raised an eyebrow. “If I tell you, will you stop trying to get dressed?”
Lawrence considered. “Yes,” he allowed after a long, drawn-out pause.
“It’s just now quarter-to-seven. How early is that appointment?” God, why am I up so early?
“Not that early,” Lawrence said, giving in. He pulled his legs up and lay back, outstretched. “It’s a good thing I didn’t get a stitch of clothing on.”
“Yeah, it’ll make this a lot easier.” Curtis bent over Lawrence, kissing along his neck to his chest, and slipped between Lawrence’s legs. His tongue snaked around each nipple before continuing down to Lawrence’s flat stomach. Above and under him, Lawrence drew in breath between his teeth, a long, sensuous hiss.
Pressing against the lengthening cock beneath him, Curtis licked his lips. “I want some more, old man,” he said. Wrapping his lips around it, he slid down the hardness.
“I have to know how old you are,” Lawrence said unsteadily as Curtis picked up speed. “I—I might not have done the math right. What are you, twenty-five, twenty-eight?”
Curtis lifted off the knob he’d been licking around. “Law, you’re hilarious. I’m out of school, trust me.” He took a deep breath and slid down to the base, his eyes fluttering as the tip touched the back of his throat, and his lips were greeted with a gray tuft of hair.
He began massaging the spot just beneath Lawrence’s balls, sucking and licking from the base to the ridge around the top. Under and above him, Lawrence hissed in a breath again and then muttered to himself.
“Out of high school, that’s good. Out of college too. Maybe he’s got a good job at an IT company or a bookstore, but God, please don’t let him be a…”
Curtis came up fast, so quick the dick coming out from between his lips made a popping sound. “You know you’re talking out loud, right?”
Lawrence opened his eyes, staring into the eyes of the man in front of him, and licked his lips. “What? I…”
“‘God, please don’t let him be a…’ what, cowboy? Isn’t that a song—‘Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be cowboys’?” Curtis laughed, replacing his tongue with a firm grip, moving up and down as he spoke.
He sat back on his legs. “Do you want me to continue?” His hand continued as he watched Lawrence writhe.
“I’m really close—I thought I was just thinking those things. And no, I was going to say barista. You aren’t a barista, are you?”
Curtis shook his head and slid his mouth over the primed cock, tasting the precum. He came back up again. “Don’t worry, Law… just relax. I’m no barista, but I know you’ve got some cream in there, and I want it.” He went back to work, going up and down, sliding to the bottom of the root and back up to the ridge, licking quickly on the underside of the head. His fingertip rubbed behind Lawrence’s balls.
Then Lawrence tightened up under him, his legs stretching out. Curtis grinned around the hardness in his mouth. Any minute now…
He tapped that spot, then rubbed it once more. He sped up, moving up and down, faster and faster…
Lawrence gasped.
Curtis reached out, searching for Lawrence’s hands, finding them clenching the sheets. He slid his own underneath them, grasping Lawrence as he rode the pleasure he knew was coming. He pulled one hand away to hold Lawrence’s cock as he lazily came off the tip, leaving a final lick, feeling the eruption pulse past his hand.
“Holy fuck… I’m cum… cumming…” Lawrence sucked in breath and let out a growl as he shot onto Curtis’s cheek and chest. His cock jerked a couple more times, throwing a drop of cum into the air that landed in Lawrence’s beard, before it began to wilt.
Curtis wiped the cum off his face and chest, savoring it as he swallowed. Lawrence lay dazedly, coming down from the afterglow. Finally, he groaned as he pulled himself to a sitting position.
“Where’d you learn how to do that?” Lawrence licked his lips and took a few short breaths as he pressed his hand to his neck. He gazed at Curtis, his eyes half-lidded, and lay back on his elbows.
“Law, if I told you, I don’t think you’d find it too interesting.” Curtis moved up Lawrence’s body and licked the light gray beard that turned him on so much. “I seriously don’t think you need to worry about your virility being an issue with me, old man.”
“I’m just a lick and suck guy—I can’t imagine learning any new skills. You know what they say: ‘you can’t teach an old dog new tricks.’” Lawrence wrapped his arms around Curtis and kissed him. “And you are the newest trick.”
“Am I just a trick?” Curtis rolled out of Lawrence’s arms.
Lawrence reached out to touch Curtis’s back. “Oh, no—that’s not what I meant. I meant…” His fingers slid up to rest on Curtis’s shoulder, tenderly pulling him back to him, but Curtis resisted. “Shit, I’m not smart sometimes. I’m just an old guy.”
Curtis shook his head, kissed the fingers on his shoulder. “You can’t be that old, Law.” He stood up and stretched, yawning. “Would you like some coffee?”
Lawrence stretched out on the bed, groaning as his back popped in several places. “I sound like a popcorn machine.” Lawrence looked over his shoulder. Behind him, a large window let sunlight work its way past the other buildings, lighting a very large and open loft that was decorated in white-on-white minimalism. “You don’t have any curtains.” He looked out the window. “Nice view, though.”
“I know.” Curtis grinned. “Thanks—I haven’t had the time to get any curtains since I moved in, but I figure it’s my house. No one has complained.”
“Well, why would they?” Lawrence looked Curtis up and down. “You’re a nice view too.”
Curtis cheeks reddened. I’m looking younger by the moment, I’m sure. “Thanks.”
“Do you think I could have my shorts now?” Lawrence said.
Curtis reached under Lawrence’s head and tossed them onto his chest. “There. Don’t be too quick to put them on. So, is toast and coffee okay with you?” His bare feet padded across hardwood, toward the kitchen area of the loft where stainless steel competed with butcher block.
“Sure, that sounds good.”
“Is Starbucks all right? I’ve still got a few pods of it here, somewhere.” Curtis stood behind the kitchen island.
“Sure. I’m pretty much a Folger’s kind of guy, so it’ll be a treat,” Lawrence said.
Curtis squatted behind the counter, and when he rose up, he had a smile on his face. “It’s about seven—didn’t you say you had an early appointment?”
“I’ve got a manager who’ll be in. He can handle it.” Lawrence got up, dropped the briefs on the chair, and joined Curtis in the kitchen.
“Do you have to call him?” Curtis placed a large cup under the spigot, popped in a pod, and pulled the lid of the Keurig down. He grinned again. “Would you like some cream? I mean, I’ve had my fill, but I’ve got some if you need it.”
“No, and no,” Lawrence said, a blush tinting his cheeks. “But do you have sugar?”
Curtis slid a small metal box across the counter. “I’d normally say something about the sugar, but you’ve got the body of a man way younger than my grandfather. In fact, there aren’t many wrinkles on you at all, sir.”
“Sugar’s my biggest vice. You should see my desk at work.” Lawrence regarded Curtis. “Barista? Grad student? Stockbroker?” He took a walk around the kitchen, leaving a kiss on Curtis’s shoulders, before moving around the floor. “This loft doesn’t fit a grad student.” Lawrence turned back to the kitchen and sighed. “I have to know. What do you do?”
Curtis pulled the coffee cup from the machine and handed it to Lawrence. “I’m in a transitional phase. I’ve got to be in the ER at noon, but that schedule is only good until the end of next week.”
“Ah, you’re a med student!” Lawrence lifted the lid of the sugar and scooped four spoons into the coffee, then raised it to his lips.
“Doctor,” Curtis corrected.
Lawrence choked. “Excuse me, you’re a doctor? You can’t be! You’re too young!” He checked out the man in front of him and shook his head.
Curtis grabbed a towel off the refrigerator handle. “Here, use this. You okay?”
Lawrence took the towel and nodded, wiping the dribble of coffee from his chest. He looked up, eyes narrowed. “You’re a doctor? Really?”
Curtis nodded. “I invested in my mentor’s practice. The plan is that a friend and I will open an office on the Promenade, as soon as he gives me the patient list. I’ve been working with him off and on for about five years; the patients know me. But he’s taking his damn time retiring.” Curtis pulled another large cup from the cupboard and set it in the Keurig again, pouring some heavy cream into it. Inserting another pod, he started the machine.
“How old are you?” This time, Lawrence kept the cup on the counter, waiting for the answer.
Curtis shrugged. “I’ll be thirty-five on the fifth. So, not a grad student anymore, and not a barista—though I admit it, I make a damn good pod of coffee.” He pulled the cup away and took a sip, before winking.
Lawrence brought the cup to his lips. “Yes, you do. Did you say something about toast?” Lawrence took a seat on a barstool. “Oh, that’s cold.”
“Well, it is a metal seat,” Curtis snorted. “Now that you know you aren’t robbing the cradle, you don’t mind staying for the toast?”
“That’s a true statement, Curtis.” Lawrence leaned forward and watched with appreciation as Curtis squatted once more and rose with a black toaster. “Do you normally cook in the nude?”
Curtis grinned as he plugged the toaster into a concealed socket. He turned and grabbed the bread from the other side of the counter, popped four slices into the toaster, and pressed the lever. “It’s just toast, I’m not in any danger here.” He lifted a red apron from the pantry. “I’ve got protection if we make something that splatters.”
“You have an ER shift today?” Lawrence sipped the coffee.
“One of my last ones,” Curtis said. “Where did I put that—ah.” He reached into a drawer and set a spoon on the counter. “For the honey,” he said at Lawrence’s tilted head.
“When will you have your office set up?”
“Marilyn—she’s another doctor at the hospital; we’ve been friends for years—we’re in the final stages of signing the paperwork.” His kitchen dance produced a butter jar and a knife.
“So what’s changing at the end of the week?” Lawrence rested his head on the palm of his hand.
Curtis nodded and stared out the window. “The truth is, Dr. Buchanan has changed his mind so many times, I just couldn’t let the hospital think I’d be there forever. So I had to cut the strings and pray that he’ll go through with it before my birthday, at least.” Curtis retrieved two small plates from yet another cupboard.
“And if he doesn’t?”
“I guess I’ll get a job at the Brass Lamp making coffee or serving tables.” The toaster popped as he spoke. Curtis buttered two slices of toast, put them on one of the plates, and slid them across the counter to Lawrence.
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“I am,” Curtis said. “Do you want some honey?”
“No, butter’s fine, but thanks,” Lawrence said. He bit into the toast, which was soaked with butter.
Curtis put honey on his own toast. “Marilyn and I will have our hands full getting the office se
t up. Painting, ordering furniture and supplies. But it’s on the Promenade, so you’ll see me there a lot.”
Curtis’s voice held a note of invitation in it, and Lawrence smiled. “Good. Is this Buchanan a nuisance?”
“No. I’ve learned so much from him. His bedside manner both with office patients and doing rounds at the hospital is outstanding. He’s an old family friend, practically my dad.”
“Old?” Lawrence tilted his head and winked.
“Yeah, he’s…” Curtis frowned, trying to think how to say it. Then he blinked.“Wait, what?”
Lawrence motioned to himself. “I mean, you like the men older.”
Curtis spat out his own coffee. “Oh, fuck. Can you hand me that towel?”
Lawrence tossed the dish towel to Curtis, who wiped his chest. “So, you two didn’t have a—” Lawrence looked over at the mess of sheets on the bed.
“Don’t even let those words out of your mouth.” Curtis glared at him. “I’ve never even imagined Buchanan like that.”
“Never?” Lawrence asked.
“Let me make this clear: Ew! I’m into older men, but I’m not a grave robber.” Curtis bit into his toast, his eyes closed as he savored the honey. “Not recently anyway—he’s nearly eighty-five. Maybe when I was just thinking of going to med school. When he married my aunt.” Curtis looked away. “When he was a younger guy running between his office and the hospital, and I kept thinking of fast cars and hot bodies pressed to me.”
“Did he drive fast cars and have lots of ladies?” Lawrence asked.
Curtis’s lips formed a wry smirk. “No. He drove a dark blue Camry and looked at no one but my Aunt Marjorie.”
“So, where’d you get those ideas?” Lawrence gulped the last of his coffee.
Hearts Repaired Page 1
