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Ambrose immediately looked up. “Better. Even better and I didn’t think that was possible.” At Barrett’s nod, he smoothed his palms over the tattoos, his touch even but gentle. “They go all the way around?”
Barrett shifted his hips to give Ambrose a look at the side of his right thigh. “Yeah. Stung like a son of a bitch. Worth it, though.”
“Tell me the story later?”
There was that wry, softly delighted twist to Barrett’s lips again. It was quickly becoming one of Ambrose’s favorite expressions on that face. And he could see it better now that the beard was gone. “There’s a story?”
“Make one up if there isn’t.” His touch turned firmer, more confident, and Ambrose lifted his head. Tongue out to lick his lips. Daring.
Barrett groaned and fell forward, into Ambrose. He slid along Ambrose’s body, pressing their chests and hips and cocks together. Tucking his face into Ambrose’s neck and inhaling before overwhelming Ambrose’s senses with open mouthed kisses along his jaw, rough hands roaming. Ambrose slid his palms down Barrett’s back, content with holding on and reveling in the sensations.
They lay together for several long moments, the sound of their intertwined breathing and the feel of Barrett on him, above him left him wishing this could last. That sudden punch of sadness, realizing that nothing good ever lasted, made him freeze. Barrett immediately pulled back and put a hand to Ambrose’s face. “Hey. What’s up?”
NotYou okayorWhat’s wrong. Barrett probably didn’t realize it but his open-ended, bleeding-heart sweetness of a question meant a lot. “Overwhelmed, I think.” Ambrose dug the heel of his palm into his forehead. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. Ever. What you feel is real, Ambrose.” Barrett gave him a little smile and Ambrose watched, fascinated, as some of that darkness in Barrett’s eyes receded, replaced by warmth; the kind of warmth Ambrose wanted to huddle by and let seep into his bones. “We can stop.”
That was the last thing Ambrose wanted. But doubt crept in as he said, “I don’t think this was what you were hoping for a while ago.”
“No, it’s not. It’s better.” Barrett kissed his forehead, right where Ambrose’s hand had been moments before. “Fucking’s fun but this is much better.”
With a groan, Barrett rolled off Ambrose and onto his side, his arm held out in silent invitation. “Are you sure?”
“Ambrose. Come here.”
Ambrose let himself drink in the sight of Barrett naked in his bed before scooting close. They shifted around, the contact sparking along Ambrose’s skin. Eventually he got a leg in between Barrett’s, one arm under his head and the other flung over that broad chest. They were a good fit for each other, Barrett’s muscular frame nearly swallowing Ambrose’s lean one. But he didn’t feel smothered. He felt content, like being wrapped in the world’s most perfect blanket. “Barrett.”
“Yeah?” Barrett leaned back to look down at Ambrose. “Anything you want to say is good, except an apology. Don’t apologize. This is amazing.”
Ambrose swallowed hard. “What is?”
Barrett pushed the hair out of Ambrose’s eyes, kissed his forehead. “The closeness. I don’t….” His voice broke. “Can’t say I’ve had that in a long while.”
That answer settled in Ambrose’s chest and he took it to heart. Barrett meant what he said. “Me either.”
Barrett lay in the quiet cocoon of darkness, his arms wrapped tightly around Ambrose. His ardor had died down long ago, left simmering in the background. Ambrose was warm and limp and Barrett could feel every breath he took as it settled on his neck. He hadn’t felt so safe, so sure, in a very long time. With the turmoil of work, the sabotage, the ongoing health issues Forrest and Val were dealing with…hell, even Oz was a stressor.
But here, in the quiet, in the dark, holding Ambrose against him, Barrett felt settled. Back on solid ground. And more than anything, he wanted to give Ambroseeverything. He’d been right; they’d been dating for months. They just hadn’t thought of it that way because they’d been focused on getting to know each other. To get past their rocky start and work on a relationship.
And now that relationship had turned physical. But it was an inclusion, instead of a substitute. It felt right, natural. Perfect. As perfect as something like this could be between two grouchy loners living in the middle of nowhere.
In that fuzzy darkness, Barrett understood. He understood himself and Ambrose and their connection. More than the physical pleasure of having Ambrose naked and spooned against him. More than running his fingertips down Ambrose’s arm and through that hair he was obsessed with. There was a spark between them, something fragile but brilliant, and he wanted to help it grow.
He would have done anything Ambrose had asked when they were naked and kissing and panting against each other. A thousand scenarios had entered his mind - him between Ambrose’s thighs, his lips wrapped around that pretty pink cock; the sight of his fingers disappearing into Ambrose’s tight body; holding Ambrose close as they rocked together slowly, their sweat staining the sheets.
But more than that, Barrett now understoodAmbrose. He saw the passion and intelligence, the wry humor and the way storm clouds could gather over that head of auburn waves, and the fierce devotion that overwhelmed someone who felteverything. Ambrose had learned to build walls to protect himself from those who would hurt him, and it had been a lesson learned the hardest of ways, from the people he had trusted the most. He didn’t need to read the letter from Ambrose’s mom to know the sting of those bladed words. They’d both been hurt enough.
He wanted to help Ambrose heal.
Barrett closed his eyes and breathed Ambrose in and slowly, softly let that darkness take him, with a tattoo of yearning blossoming under his skin.
Chapter nineteen
Ambroseawoketothesmell of coffee but as he rolled over, following his nose, he ran into a warm, hard wall. Barrett made a rumbling sound of contentment and immediately pulled Ambrose close. “Morning.”
“Hey.” The prior night rushed back and Ambrose winced. Shit. Shit.
“I can hear you thinking.” Barrett slid a palm under Ambrose’s jaw, tilted his head up until their eyes met. Ambrose could feel every inch of Barrett pressed against him and it felt like heaven. “Lemme clear it up real quick. I stayed because I wanted to, I slept great, I made coffee cause I figured we’d both need it, and I still find you insanely attractive.” That liquid darkness crept in around the edges of his brown eyes and Ambrose could feel its magnetic pull. “And I had a thought about the physical side of things, for which you do not ever have to apologize for.”
