Page 58 of Ask Me For Fire


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He was right. He was absolutely right.

While they’d been spending all that time getting to know each other, it had been a little bit like dating. He felt stunned. “Fuck.”

“Yeah.” Laughing, Ambrose leaned forward again and placed several small kisses along Barrett’s jaw, making him shiver. “I fucked up your shave but I can’t keep going like this.” He held his hand out for Barrett’s inspection. “Too shaky.”

If he thought about his next words any more, he’d never say them. Swallowing hard, Barrett said, “Will you let me take you to bed?”

“Yes.” Ambrose ran his fingertips over Barrett’s cheek, then his jaw. “I’ve got some disposable razors, if you want to -”

“Yeah. Give me five minutes.”

There was a spark in Ambrose’s eyes as he replied, “Or you can just do it later.”

With one great lurch (and not an unimpressive show of strength), Barrett hefted them both to their feet. Ambrose’s delighted laugh was a little wild and sharp and he clung to Barrett even once he was back on the ground. Barrett kissed him again, winding that hair between his fingers and listening to Ambrose moan against his mouth.

Chapter eighteen

AssoonasAmbrosepeeled off his shirt, Barrett pushed him into the wall, caging him in between thick forearms while an even thicker thigh notched between his own. Barrett’s chest and neck and jaw glistened with oil (the oil Ambrose had made just for the other man, smelling lightly of cold pines and citrus and wood smoke) and he reached up, eager to rub it into warm skin and wiry hair. The shave was incomplete and some exacting part of him wanted to fix it, to go get the straight razor and watch shaving cream and hair be whisked away by that sharp, sharp blade.

What he had was a million times better, because Barrett was kissing him. No mere kiss, this thing that curled a tongue around his, that sent callused fingers into his hair and scraping along his scalp, that moaned into his mouth. Ambrose heard the plea formorein every hitch of Barrett’s breathing. So he let his hands wander, searching over skin and muscle, rubbing the oil in.

Barrett yanked his head away only to come back with lips and tongue and teeth on Ambrose’s neck and now he groaned softly, tipping his head to the left. “This is gorgeous,” Barrett purred at him, another set of fingertips skating over the tattoo on his neck and shoulder. Ambrose used to rub his fingers over the swirling vines when he was thinking or nervous; a habit he’d broken long ago. But no one had touched his tattoo quite like this. Reverently, gently, with curiosity and wonder.

And then Barrett chuckled, the sound making Ambrose’s insides quiver with expectation. “I was supposed to be supporting you with all the stuff going on. The letter and everything.” He cupped Ambrose’s jaw with one big palm, turning him back until they could look at each other. “You sure? I shouldn’t have -”

“Barrett. Shut up.” He touched Barrett’s forearm with a finger, let that touch slide up. A mimicry of what Barrett had done just moments earlier. “Kiss me and hold me and take me to bed and fuck me so hard I forget to put clothes back on.”

Those lips that had been on his twitched, accompanied by mountainous shoulders shaking with laughter. “You don’t sleep naked?”

“You do?” He shot back.

“Course.”

Ambrose let his gaze drift, hungry, over Barrett’s shirtless body. “Hell, if I looked like that, I guess I would too.” He’d figured out pretty early on that Barrett wasn’t barrel-chested - as early as being crushed to the man as Barrett pulled him from a collapsing trail bridge.Barrel-chestedbrought to mind wide and thick all over, like the ridiculously huge men who did those strongmen contests. Barrett was broad but tapered, his shoulders easily the widest part of him, then his body slowly, almost carefully, narrowed into a trim waist that led to powerful legs.

Barrett’s body had made him think vicious, filthy little things from the moment they’d met. First it had been the tight ass in dark, worn jeans as he’d walked away with a wave after finding Ambrose at the boat dock. The feel of hard - and hard won - muscles under Ambrose’s hands as they tumbled to the cold forest floor. The warmth of his hands patting Ambrose’s swollen ankle. The sight of his biceps flexing in a henley as he chopped wood.

But it wasn’t difficult to appreciate the lines and art of a body. Ambrose had quickly started to seemorein Barrett. Dark hair curling out of control, thick beard so dark it was nearly black. Molten brown eyes, deep set and framed with expressive eyebrows. The delicate tattoos on his wrists: a pine tree on the left, a compass on the right. That laugh. The smile. Themindandheart.

If he was really, really lucky, Ambrose would get to appreciate all of it and show Barrett the depth and strength of his appreciation. His affections. Ambrose was a physical creature and now he understood Barrett was, too. His might be a pining, pinching, needy kind of thing while Barrett’s was for the physical pleasure of sex and touch and his tongue in another’s mouth, but that didn’t make their needs opposing. It was simply a puzzle to work out, to find how they fit together.

Ambrose lurched forward and pressed his palms into Barrett’s stomach, taking in the man’s soft gasp and how his fingers grasped Ambrose’s shoulders. “Show me what you like. Or tell me. Just….” His hands slid up, higher, brushing over Barrett’s nipples and pulling a groan out as a reward. That was a good touch, a wanted touch. “You’re so beautiful, I can’t stand it.”

“Ambrose.” His name was choked out from between Barrett’s lips. “Beauty’s not….you’regorgeous. I’ve never met anyone like you. So gorgeous, and your mind is incredible.” Barrett’s expression twisted and Ambrose worried it was concern even asgorgeousrattled through his brain like loose change.

But the expression was blinked away and then Barrett was placing his hands over Ambrose’s as he grabbed. Ambrose dug his fingertips into Barrett’s pecs, squeezing, watching the bigger man shiver in his grip. Pride flushed through him, interrupted only by Barrett saying, “Keep doing that and we are actually going to fuck against this wall.”

Ambrose laughed. A full-flighted sound that made Barrett smile in return. “I’m too old for that.”

“So am I and yet I’m willing to try.”

He stepped back, grabbed Barrett’s hand, their fingers slippery from the leftover oil but leaving them smelling like forest and stone andthemselves. Ambrose wanted to roll around in that scent but knew it would be better if spiked with sweat and musk.

His bedroom was simple in layout, with the center focused on a massive rug, on top of which sat a bed big enough for four people. He loved that bed. Custom-made, a splurge after he’d gotten hired at his most recent employer. He’d kept it in storage until the deal for the house went through, but he’d always hoped it would be appreciated by someone other than him. And Barrett was running a hand over the intricately carved footboard, a small smile curving on his face.

“This is gorgeous, holy shit.”

The response was immediate. He didn’t even want to stop himself from saying, “So are you.”

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