Page 49 of Ask Me For Fire


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“You do. I like that.” He motioned Ambrose forward and they walked further uphill, following the trail. Barrett had offered to show Ambrose where the patches of wildflowers grew and with spring now fully upon them, he’d been itching to get up above the river. The views over the valley were incredible and on a day like this one, sunny and bright, Lake Honor would be sparkling in the distance. “And you should swing by the FL when I’m up there. It’s not like I can’t have visitors.”

”As long as it doesn’t involve me spraining my ankle again, I’m game.” Ambrose shot him a bright smile and Barrett wanted to melt. Did he not realize how gorgeous he was? But the thought of Ambrose up there in the fire lookout tower with him and Dandi was more than tempting. Watching the sun disappear below the horizon, sharing some drinks. Barrett finally gathering up the courage to pull Ambrose from those too big clothes and take and give in the only way he knew how: with all his focus and attention and a touch that maybe meantsomething.

As they climbed the last rise to the cliff overlooking the valley, Ambrose stopped in his tracks. “Holy shit.”

Spring wind, cool but promising, kicked up and pulled at his collar, his hair, but Barrett didn’t care. The look on Ambrose’s face as he stared out over the rolling carpet of tiny white and blue flowers would be seared in his memory for the rest of his life. Those angular, symmetrical features, so unique and fascinating up close, were now melted into an expression of pure wonderment. Barrett had taken many a hiker and mountain climber up to some truly beautiful spots over the thousands of acres which he and his fellow rangers carefully guarded, but there was no other place like this one. It was a pity the flowers would only last a few days, and Barrett had been so hoping they’d be ready for today.

“Barrett. I can’t even…” Ambrose turned to him, a helpless little smile on his face. His grey eyes were huge against his pale skin and with the sun shining down on that auburn hair, Barrett was certain he’d never seen anything more beautiful.

And then he moved with purpose, toward Barrett. Barrett welcomed him into his arms. “This is the kindest thing anyone’s ever done for me,” Ambrose muttered into his neck. Barrett felt every word, every syllable, every breath on his skin. Something in him yearned for more: more closeness, more whispers against his pulse, more pressure from the fingertips pressed into the small of his back.

“Hey.” He nudged Ambrose’s head up with a curled finger until he could meet those eyes. “You’re welcome. I’m glad you like it.” Gods, his heart was racing but in his mind, he was calm, rational. And everything in him screamed for contact. But even now he knew that it was easier if Ambrose initiated. Some part of him would feel guilty for even this, pressing against him as if they did this all the time.

Ambrose swallowed hard, the effort of it making his throat click. And then he sucked in a breath and slowly, carefully, stepped back. “Finding even ground,” he said, voice a little hoarse. “Something I’m working on.”

The wordyearningcame to mind while they stood in that field of tiny wildflowers. It was perfect in some ways, and yet Ambrose made his heart pound so hard, Barrett feared it would give out. “I know it’s not fair,” Ambrose continued as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “I know we could easily fall into bed together.”

He had to laugh, needed some kind of tension release from the moment where his body ached with want. “You’re right. We could.” Barrett motioned Ambrose forward down the path until they came to a few boulders. He felt like they should be sitting for this. “You game for some truth time?”

“Of course.” There was no hesitation in Ambrose’s answer and as they settled on the flatter part of the boulders, the carpet of flowers before them, Barrett took a deep breath. He’d practiced this but it still felt raw. “So everyone’s got a past, right? Mine’s not terribly complicated. I like sex and I like men, so finding someone to take to bed wasn’t too difficult a lot of the time.” He waved a hand at himself and smiled. “I’m a type, apparently.”

“I have never once thought of you that way, Barrett.”

“No, no, sorry.” He smiled so Ambrose knew he wasn’t offended or assuming. “You’re good, trust me. But what I mean is my past is kind of boring in some ways when it comes to relationships and shit. It’s also been something that’s made people shy away. They wanted a commitment I wasn’t ready to give, or I didn’t feel more than physical attraction. I wanted -want- something more.” Gods, his heart was pounding in his ears because as many times as he’d imagined saying this to Ambrose, being presented with the chance now felt like he was standing at the edge of a cliff. “You and I, there’s a connection.”

He waited, watching Ambrose’s face carefully. Any little sign of the negative would make all this for naught, but he had to be sure.

“Yeah. Yeah, there is.” A smile flickered over Ambrose’s face and Barrett felt something relax in his chest. “Even though by rights you should think I’m a prick from the way I acted.”

“I did, for a minute. But it was kind of clear from the start you were still finding your footing. I wasn’t one to press.”

Ambrose put his hand on top of Barrett’s and those long fingers squeezed. Barrett felt grounded once more. Barrett liked the look of Ambrose’s pale hand against his tawny, weather-beaten one. “You have no idea what that means. Everyone presses and it’s exhausting. But you were talking, sorry.”

“All good.” And it was, because he had finally found someone worth telling this to. “So long and short, I’ve done flings and had a few relationships but nothing more than about a year. Me and Marcos were all caught up in the after college, real world job and life thing and it worked for a while. But I’m still waiting on that spark. You know, more than just oh hey, he’s hot, let’s bang, and then you keep doing it.”

“And get takeout and go on dates and then it gets boring?”

“For a bit, yeah.” Ambrose had no idea how on the nose he was. “But now comes the part where I get all real honest and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

To Barrett’s surprise, Ambrose shook his head and smiled. But he didn’t remove his hand from Barrett’s. “You’ve met my ex and saved my life and brought me to a field of wildflowers. Unless you’re about to tell me you’re Hannibal Lecter, I think we’re good.”

“Fair enough.” Barrett’s smile matched Ambrose’s. “Not Hannibal Lecter, for the record.”

“Good enough for me.”

“Such high standards. Okay, but straight up, I like sex. A lot. Finding partners was never difficult, like I said. Around five years ago, I started thinking it just wasn’t worth it for the most part. I got promoted, I had plans for the house, could feel myself getting older and my priorities shifting. Life shit. So I kind of gave up on something that would keep it from being boring. But I never gave up hope that I might find that thing, thatmore, that would make it special.”

The word he was avoiding saying sat on his tongue, heavy like lead but more valuable than anything he could imagine. Ambrose filled it in for him. “Spark. Connection.” He looked down at their hands, swallowed hard again. “And you’re not pushing me because…”

“Because despite everything I know about people, you defy that in a good way. You’re a fascinating man, Ambrose, and spending time getting to know you is important to me. More important than just fucking, cause I feel like there’s more here.” He waved a hand at the field. “I did bring you to a field of wildflowers to confess, if that’s any evidence.”

“Plenty. More than enough.” Ambrose’s eyes had gone soft and he licked his lips before saying, “Me telling you I like you too feels a little grade school, especially right now.”

But that was what Barrett was hoping to hear. Whatever sat before them, or down the road apace, was meant forthem. No one made him feel like Ambrose did, and he wanted to protect it, savor it, fucking roll around in bed with it.

With him.

Heat flared through his veins but it was tempered with patience and longing. The kinds of things he’d read about in those gothic romances about creepy old houses and manners and pining. It made sense now, except for the manners part. He leaned in and as if pulled by a string, so did Ambrose. “If I kiss you right now,” Barrett said, tipping his head down, “right here? I might be in trouble.”

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