Samuel
SAMUEL
I gave a low growl and swatted at the idiot steadying me. “Quit! I'm injured, not an invalid!"
Ambrose sighed so world-weary you would have thought his not-so-inner grumpy old man had finally found a way to break free. “Would you quit fussin' about everythin' I do? I'm just tryin' to help you so you don't fall and open your wound."
It had been almost a week since that dirty bastard had shot me in the back, so it was still possible the wound could reopen. Of course, that was easier said than done since Elizabeth had decided to dig around before shoving a hot damned poker into my back. I kept telling everyone I didn't remember, but it was a damned lie. I remembered every agonizing moment as it felt like I was being burned from the inside in the worst pain I could recall. The lie seemed to comfort Ambrose and Elizabeth, though, so I didn't feel bad about it.
"Fine, but you don't have to baby me," I grumbled, pushing his arm away and leaning on the fence. "See? I'm fine. I can stand of my own accord."
"Honestly," he said with a sigh. "You act like I'm tryin' to carry you everywhere like a baby."
"And if I let you, you would."
"Would not."
I knew he absolutely would, just like I knew he was a horrible liar. I had no reason to assume it to begin with, but learning that the big, grumpy, irritable man was actually a giant worrywart who fretted over people when they were hurt did not come as a surprise. It was in the way he was careful about his men and their safety. It was in the way he was always making changes to ensure they were fed, housed, and taken care of, and hell, even the way he showed the same compassion and care to the animals and Bear.
It was, of course, endearing that he’d chosen to put the same attention on me. Well, endearing in a very annoying way. As much as it was nice to have someone worrying about me, I didn't want to be treated like I was incapable. While it had been nice to wake up in his cabin and realize he’d been keeping diligent watch over me while I recovered and made sure to clean me and feed me when I was awake, that was then.
"I don't need help getting around after a meal," I told him with a scowl.
Annoyance flickered over his handsome features, but I sensed something more sensitive as well. "I'm not saying you can't. But you need to take it easy when you can."
"It's a hole in my back, not a broken leg," I reminded him, albeit more gently than my previous complaining. "You don't need to try to catch me just because I stumbled over a rock."
"And then tried to catch yourself with your left arm."
"That was the side closest to the fence."
"It's your injured side!"
I sighed. “It wasn't that bad."
"You're just gonna act like you're not pale and sweating from how much you hurt yourself doing that?"
"I am not," I said, knowing full well that was a lie, or at least a partial one. "I'm sweating because it's hot. I'm pale because that hurt like Hell."
Thankfully, that had the intended effect, and he let out a snort. “God, I never thought I'd find someone I would accuse of bein' stubborn, but here you are."
"Here I am," I said, knowing others could hear us and trying to be mindful of their presence. Our bickering had been on full display.
People could make the connection if we weren't careful and, honestly? I was trying to be more careful. By all accounts, Ambrose had been more than a little worried when I'd been injured. His routine guard over my unconscious form was widely known, and while that might be seen as friendship, we hadn't known each other long enough or gone through enough together to justify that in most people's eyes.
It didn't help that Ambrose wouldn't stop touching me, even if it was to keep me steady.
I grunted when a large weight pushed against my hip, and I stared down into the furry face in exasperation. “Not you too! I'm fine, I'm completely and absolutely fine."
"You have a healing bullet wound in your back," Ambrose said dryly.
"Actually, I have a healing burn scar on my back, courtesy of your sister," I pointed out.
"Which probably helped save your life."
"I'm not ungrateful, but if you're going to name my wound, at least do it properly."
Ambrose sighed heavily. “Can you please just...take it easy for a while longer?"
"I wasn't aware that walking was strenuous, and I didn't trip on purpose."
"."
I sighed, looking at him and finally hanging my head. “Fine. There isn't much I can do with this injury in any case. I'll head back to the cabin."
His expression drooped for a moment before he nodded. “Alright, let's go."
"I said I was going back," I told him with a shake of my head. "You still have things to do today."
It had been Elizabeth who’d filled me in on what had happened while I’d been unconscious. The pride I'd felt when she told me how Ambrose had shut down his brother and didn't hesitate to tell their father what was going to happen had been absurdly strong. You might have thought Ambrose was my child who had finally decided to spread his wings and take flight for the first time. In reality, that was his actual father's job, and truthfully, although Ambrose wouldn't believe me, I suspected that was true. Deep down, I think the elder Isaiah had been waiting to see if his youngest would ever find it in himself to stand on his own two feet.
Few people knew what happened between the brothers, but apparently, it had spread like wildfire. It didn't help that Joseph had one hell of a nasty bruise on his face after the family came out of the office, where an argument between brothers was overheard by house staff. All too often, employers seemed to think that being uneducated meant stupid, but that was not the case. The house staff and, subsequently, the ranch hands could do the math, and everyone was abuzz not only about the threat of Le Garou but that their favorite boss had finally managed to knock some sense into the most hated member of the family.
Ambrose's brow furrowed. "Ain't much to do today that other people can't handle. There ain't much to do about them either. Guess you messin' with their plan to take Lizzie sent 'em back into hiding. And we can't find 'em."
Which I knew was a source of great frustration for him. Everyone thought it would be better if we could have whatever fight was coming our way and be done with it. The waiting and anticipation that came with it were far worse than any immediate threat. It seemed the gang didn't want to give that sort of relief, though, so everyone was left to cool their heels and wait for them to make the first move or hope someone figured out where they were.
"You just want to follow me around and make sure I don't trip over something again," I said with a heavy sigh.
"Ya do seem to like findin' trouble wherever you go." Once upon a time, it would have been said with an annoyed growl and a scowl. Now, it was said with a heavy sigh and a look that I swore was as exasperated as it was affectionate. I don't know what it was about my brush with death, but something had shifted in Ambrose. He was still his normal self, but a softer, more patient side of him had emerged. I still wasn't sure what to do with that.
There were several things I wanted to say, but I was still aware of how many potential listening ears there were and decided to go with, “Fine. Because if I don't, you'll just make Arthur follow me around again. For the record, bringing a child into this is just low."
Ambrose rolled his eyes. “Go, I'll be right behind you."
I bit back a comment and gave him a roll of my eyes, turning and walking away because there was no point in arguing. Truth be told, going back to the cabin to sit by myself didn't sound appealing. There was a pile of books from the main house's library, courtesy of Ambrose, who’d grown tired of my complaints about boredom. And while I could entertain myself for long periods, it was actually nice having someone else around.
The walk back was uneventful, with a few people asking after me. It was strange having people concerned about me when I’d spent years with only me to worry about. The ranch was funny. No one outright said the ranch was supposed to be about family, and yet they all acted like it. While it was obvious the Isaiahs were the family, no one was left out, and everyone seemed quite happy working there. That was in large part due to how Ambrose handled things, considering his father didn't interact with people much. Still, if I was right about Elizabeth and what she had in mind, she was going to join the ranks of beloved family members as well.
Inside his cabin, I kicked off my boots, marched to the chair near the window, and plopped down. That, of course, resulted in me jarring my back against the chair, sending a hot jolt of pain through me. Thankfully, Ambrose was too busy fighting with his boots to notice. He also pulled his overshirt off and tossed it aside, leaving him in the thin one he wore to soak up any excess sweat.
I got an eye full of his chest pressing against the fabric and watched the way his arm muscles rippled as he gathered the clothes on the floor. It had been over a week since we’d done anything with one another, and while that had been fine the first few days as I adjusted to the pain and gained some strength, now I was well enough to feel the familiar tickle of desire in my gut as I watched him.
Possibly sensing my stare, he turned and frowned. "What?"
"You want to take the rest of your clothes off? They're looking dirty," I said with a smirk.
He looked down at himself in confusion and then rolled his eyes. “Really? You're gonna start that with me now?"
"Hey, don't start pointing fingers. We've been at this long enough for me to know that if you go even a few days without release, you start getting crankier than usual."
"You've been shot ."
"In my back. Not my mouth."
"Sometimes I wonder if maybe that wouldn't have been better."
"Or my ass."
He tried to hide it, but I saw the spark of interest flare in his eyes, which wasn't surprising. I had more experience than him when it came to that sort of thing, so I knew that while it was easy to tamp down desires and urges when there was nothing available other than one's hand. It was a lot harder to restrain your needs when there was someone around. At that point, it was like every trace of self-control disappeared into thin air, and you were left struggling to hold back.
His nostrils flared, and he huffed. “I need to change your bandages."
I groaned, slumping in the chair. "I am allowed zero fun."
"You've been shot."
"As you keep reminding me unnecessarily. And for the record, I think being shot should afford me at least some preferential treatment."
"You're bein' taken care of. That's special treatment."
"No, having your mouth on me and you in me would be special. Changing my bandages is just routine."
"Shirt off."
"Now that's more like it."
"."
"Ugh."
I let him change my bandage without further fuss because, again, there was no point trying to resist. I really didn't want an infection to be what took me out of this world after all I’d survived up to this point. Admittedly, it was a common way to die. I practically shuddered at the thought, but it would make my wound flare up again.
Despite how careful he was, I still had to fight back a hiss when he peeled the old bandage off and began to clean the wound. I didn't know why it seemed to be a requirement that anything good for you had to be painful. Perhaps if there was a God, I could take it up with him when I finally died, or maybe Saint Peter would know the answer and save me the trip. It wasn't a whole lot better when he applied the new bandage, but it was marginally less painful, at least.
"There," he said, running his hand over the bandage and making sure it was tied firmly. "That should hold."
I shivered under his touch. “Thanks, Doc."
He snorted, and I stiffened when I felt his hand slide over my shoulder and around my neck. The tips of his fingers were rough, but his touch was gentle as they came to rest. It was as if he was sensing my pulse to make sure my heart was still beating. Considering how...worried he’d become lately, that could be the case, or it could just be that he couldn't resist the urge to put his hand on me while I was sitting there and we were alone.
I reached up to lay my hand over his, squeezing it. "You know, I'm not going to keel over."
"That's not what I was doing," he said with a snort, his fingers flexing against my throat.
I chuckled. “Well, if you want to have your hand around my throat, all you had to do was ask. It wouldn't be the first time."
His fingers pushed up my chin, forcing my head back so he could stare down at me with a frown. "Why are you always tryin' to get on my bad side?"
"I'm trying to get in your pants," I told him with a snort. "Or you in mine."
"Like I said," he said with a shake of his head. "It's like ya can't help yourself."
I squinted. “It's a problem of mine. Alas, I’m certain some part of you enjoys it."
"I'm sure you'll tell yourself that to feel better."
"There are other ways I can be made to feel better if you're feeling up to helping."
"You're awfully persistent."
"You got half-naked, put your hands on me, and now your hand is on my throat...oh, and it's been over a week. One could say I have one thing at the front of my mind."
Sighing, he bent down. “Just...behave. Ya don't need to overdo it."
"Never," I said, though I didn't get much more out as he finally kissed me. It was gentle and lingering, making me reach up to try to cup his face, settling for wrapping my hand around his head and holding him in case he tried to pull away. It wasn't trying to get him to deepen the kiss, which he did, but it was nice to have affection when he’d been treating me like the slightest touch might turn me to dust, scattered with the slightest breeze.
It also had the effect of drawing him closer, the hand on my neck sliding down my chest to rest on my stomach as he stepped around the chair. A shiver ran through me as his fingers curled at the bottom of my shirt to reach under and brush his skin against mine. I leaned back, allowing him access as he bent to reach further.
My pants were undone with a few flicks of his fingers, and he slid his hand inside. He hummed happily when he found I was already hard, his fingers wrapping around what he could reach and tugging gently. A soft moan escaped me, and his other hand slid down the back of my neck and tightened in what I assumed was excitement. My excitement rose when I felt him slide down to kneel in front of me, his hand still wrapped around me.
In the first weeks of getting to know one another carnally, there was no way I would have convinced him to kneel before me. It was common with men like us, at least in the rougher parts of the world. The belief was that certain things were more disgraceful than simply being with a man. Getting on your knees to give them pleasure was one of them.
As Ambrose leaned forward and brought me into his mouth, I was extremely glad he was over that mentality. Admittedly, the sight of someone as strong, tough, and masculine as him doing it was a titillating thrill, almost as much as the sensation of his mouth wrapped around my most sensitive part. Just as good was the sight of me disappearing into his mouth little by little as he tried to ease the gag of his throat.
I spread my legs, granting him better access as he used his hands to pull my pants down so they dropped to my ankles. I had a feeling we’d end up where I’d need to kick them off if I wanted to move, but for now, I was content to let them sit there as he bobbed.
Setting my hand atop his head, I groaned as I felt the tip reach the back of his throat, and his muscles gripped it. I shuddered when his hands slid down my bare thighs and gripped tight, thumbs caressing the sensitive skin as a wet noise came from his mouth, and he began to bob vigorously. The noise could probably be explained or not even heard, but I had to be careful to keep my vocalizations to a minimum because there was no explaining that away easily.
Which was swiftly tested when the tricky bastard apparently managed to wet his finger without me noticing before pushing it inside me. I could have pretended that having some sensation again after going too long without was why I had to fight so hard to be quiet. The truth was, it was because it was Ambrose touching me again, wanting me again. I had a weakness for him that I couldn't remember having with any previous partner, and even if in the beginning he’d been awkward and clumsy, his touch and his attempts to pleasure me had been intoxicating.
Now, though, it wasn't just that; he had been paying attention and learning. Now, the two of us were better acquainted with one another's bodies and what worked. Now, he knew just when to curl his finger inside me, so I whimpered softly before he pushed another one in. Spit wasn't going to cover our needs for long, but it was good enough for his fingers to find the spot that made me jerk in surprise and pleasure.
"Ambrose," I managed to get out as quietly as I could. "Let me get up and on that bed before I lose it right here."
He pulled off, looking up. Concern was etched into his brow, but I could see my suggestion was tempting. "I don't?—"
"You won't," I said, speaking from a genuine place and a place of genuine need. "You wouldn't hurt me like that, I know that. I trust that."
I could see in his face that, like me, he found trust as intoxicating as a kiss or my mouth on him. All worry and fear dissolved as he pulled off with minimal reluctance. Reaching out with my right hand, he took it and helped me to my feet, holding on as I kicked my pants away. When he finally let go of me, I removed my shirt, determined to prove I didn't need him to help me and, thus, worry about me.
If he’d still had reservations, they were gone as he pulled at his clothes and backed up toward the bed, obviously waiting for me. I took my time because of the sight of him leaning back on his arms with what was certainly a lingering look. I had yet to grow tired of his body, which looked like it was made purely out of muscle from all the work he did, kissed by the sun, and just the slightest bit of sweat from the heat of the room.
A sigh of anticipation came from me as I lifted my leg to place my knee on one side of his body and then the other on the other side. I gripped his face and kissed him, pushing our bodies together before dropping down so the full hard length of him slid along my ass. One of his arms wrapped around my waist and tightened fiercely as he forced me to rut against him.
I was lost in the sensation, and apparently, I’d been distracted earlier trying to get my shirt off because I didn't realize he’d retrieved the oil until I felt not two but three fingers push inside me. Which, contrary to what I'd told him, certainly did hurt as he stretched me faster than was comfortable. At the same time, it wasn't the kind of hurt I’d been talking about, and I welcomed the pain as he stretched me open, forcing a groan from me as he pushed in deep.
"Okay?" he asked softly, a hard edge to his voice that excited me further.
"Definitely," I said, pushing down onto his fingers to prove I was doing just fine. "But I'll be a lot better in a moment."
"You already feel amazing," he murmured, nipping at my bottom lip.
"I bet I can feel even better."
"I bet."
It was all the incentive he needed to pull his fingers free, which left me with a vaguely empty feeling that I could ignore since it would be remedied soon. He grabbed the jar of oil from beside him and reached to grease himself up. With his dry hand, he reached up and grabbed my hip, giving a little tug to show he was ready for me and letting me take over what came next.
I lowered myself, feeling him push against me as my body did its thing and resisted the intrusion. I tightened the grip of my legs and pushed down with my hips, grunting when the thick head pushed into me and spread me further than his fingers. Letting out a shaky breath, I lowered myself little by little, feeling him creep inside me. It had only been a week, but the sensation of him filling me up felt like it had been ages, and I was eager enough to ignore the burn until I was seated in his lap.
"God," he murmured, fingers tightening on my hip. He was so hard I could feel his heartbeat pulse inside me.
"Don't ask if I'm okay," I said as I saw him open his mouth to ask that very question. I was proven right when I saw his mouth close with an audible click.
I wasn't going to wait until my body was completely ready. I rarely did in my eagerness to have him. I lifted my hips, resting on my knees so I could lower myself. It was tough going at first, but with his help and steadying myself on his shoulders, I moved a little more easily. At first, he seemed to move through me like pushing through molasses, but the more I pushed down, and the more I felt his length push against the spot inside me that took my breath away, the more I loosened up.
Eventually, I could move easily, practically bouncing in his lap as I went up as far as I dared to bring myself back down again. His eyes burrowed into mine, his noises soft but full of growling pleasure and desire as he gripped me tightly. Having to do most of the work helped to make sure I was quiet as pleasure echoed through me, drawing more pleasure with every movement.
His hand, still slick with oil, reached between us and wrapped around me, holding me tight as I fucked myself into it every time I rose from his lap. The effect had me almost dizzy, but I held on tight as I continued, knowing it wasn't going to take long and not caring. All that mattered was he was inside me, that we had this pleasure together, and I would be staring him in the eye when I?—
"Oh God," I groaned, and he reached up with his free hand to clamp it over my mouth and keep me from making too much noise as I pulsed in his hand. I was grateful as pleasure screamed through me, and I felt myself tighten around him as I painted his chest and stomach. His hold on my head and hip allowed him to shove me down, burying himself completely and adding another blast of ecstasy as he gave a low growl, bursting inside me. I shuddered and rocked, feeling him fill me up in an entirely different way. His face twisted into an expression of pure pleasure as he held me until we were both finished.
"I'm...going to lay you…" he told me when we were finally able to talk.
"On my right side, I know," I said with a chuckle, feeling more inclined to be gracious about his doting now everything in my body was loose and fuzzy. Well, except for the wound, which really hadn't liked the way my whole body had tensed when I'd found my release, but that was easy to ignore.
He found a clean rag to wipe us down before he sat on the edge of the bed, his hand coming to rest on my arm. I didn't know when I’d found myself needing him, not just for the sex but for everything else, but it had happened. Not that long ago, I would have considered the idea as abhorrent as it was terrifying, but now it filled me with cozy bemusement as I lay on my side, watching him stare at nothing.
I slid my hand over his thigh, squeezing him. "Still half-hard? Someone's pent up."
"Maybe we can take care of that in a bit," he chuckled, leaning over to rest his arm on my hip. "But uh?—"
"I'm more than okay," I said with a laugh, figuring he’d probably been holding that back since we stopped. "Would it make you feel better if I was honest?"
"You can do that?"
"Do what?"
"Be honest."
I blinked and then let out a laugh. “Sometimes I forget you have a sense of humor. But yes, I am able to be honest."
"Okay, so be honest."
"It does hurt all the time. It hurt while we were doing that, but what can you expect? It hurts when I move, when I'm moved, or when I breathe heavy or roll onto it. I had a bullet shot into me, and then the wound burned. Of course, it hurts. You don't need to worry about if I'm going to get hurt or not because I'm in pain all the time right now. But that will pass eventually.”
I looked up to find him staring at me with a blank expression for long enough that I grew concerned. "Uh...Ambrose? Are you okay?"
He snorted, giving me a roll of his eyes. “So, your idea of makin' me feel better was to tell me that you're gonna be in pain all the time? That I'm gonna hurt ya, and I should...not care?"
"Not, not care," I said, my old exasperation at the mother hen in ranch hand form coming back. "But you don't need to fret needlessly. The pain is because I was hurt, and I’m recovering. Not because you're doing anything wrong. You don't have to freak out every time I wince or stumble. And you sure as hell don't have to fret about whether you're going to hurt me when we're fucking."
He sighed, his cheeks coloring at my language. "Ya took a bullet for my sister."
"I took a bullet, that's for sure."
"."
"What? It's the truth."
He stared at me with a hard expression, which might have been effective, but after a few seconds, I spotted his lips twitching. When he realized I'd noticed, he gave another heavy sigh, shaking his head. "Ya know, for someone who likes to talk themselves up so much, you're not all that good at acceptin' when someone else tries to do it."
"Well, if you talked about how funny I am, how intelligent I am, and clever, and how amazing my ass is, then you wouldn't hear the slightest complaint from me."
Ambrose sighed heavily again, easing himself down so he was sprawled on my thighs, forcing me to turn my body so I could still look at him while holding his weight. "You know damn well what you're doin'...and damn well what ya did. Lizzie already said she knows ya moved, so you were in the line of sight. You heard that shot and knew what he was gonna do, and you put yourself in the way."
I much preferred it when he was fighting not to strangle me or trying not to jump me when I was being difficult. The open, earnest discussion left me with a squirming in my gut that was difficult to tolerate.
"Look," I said, trying not to let the internal squirming become external and give away how uncomfortable I was. "I don't remember things all that well, alright? Maybe I knew what he was doing, maybe I didn't. Truth be told, everything happened so fast I was operating on instinct, not anything rational. So I'm not going to have people saying I did something when I can't say if I did or didn't."
"Lizzie seemed pretty sure, and she ain't one to exaggerate."
"Or maybe she just saw what she wanted to see."
"You sayin' I'm doin' the same because I believe her?"
"I don't know. Have you finally gone so mad you're willing to believe I’d do something so stupid?"
"Stupid?"
"Did I or did I not have a conversation with you, more than once, about how I do things to stay alive? Now, does throwing myself into the potential path of a bullet sound like something a consummate survivor would do?"
"No," he agreed, his hand coming to rest on my lower back, skin warm and pleasantly rough. "It sounds like somethin' someone would do if they aren't nearly as bad as people think they are...or as bad as they try to make themselves sound. Sounds like somethin' a good man would do."
I closed my eyes, surprised at the sudden prickling in my eye, and tried to hold back. "I'm not a good man, c'mon, you have to know that by now."
"I also know you're not a bad one," he said with a shrug.
"Wow," I said, purposefully widening my eyes. "Are you saying that morality isn't just black and white? That the world isn't filled with just good people and evil people?" I yelped when he gave my ass a sharp slap.
“Weren't you the one who tried to make me understand that?"
"Well, yes, but I wasn't expecting you to try to turn it around on me one day."
"Well, I am. Ya can't be the man who tries to make me see that and be the same man who tries to deny it about himself. So you had to do things to survive that I might never be able to do, ya clearly haven't let it destroy what's good about you."
"Well, that would have been too easy."
"What do ya mean?"
"I mean, I didn't hold on to trying to be decent because it was the right thing to do. I hated people who took the awful things in their lives and used it as an excuse to do it to other people. I thought they were weak, petty, spiteful creatures who deserved a bullet to the head. I decided I wasn't going to be that person, that I could still survive and figure out a way not to turn into a monster. Not because it was right but because I wasn't going to give the world the pleasure of seeing me fall that far from grace. It was spite that motivated me, not virtue."
He stared at me for long enough, and I believed he finally understood that even if he was changing his perspective on the world, I wasn't the person he’d started to think I was. As much as I wanted to knock the stars from his eyes, there was still a sinking sense of disappointment. Despite my protests, it was nice to have someone believe I wasn't a complete lost cause.
That it was Ambrose made both feelings more intense, which I wasn't even going to try to question or deny. Somewhere along the line, I’d grown to appreciate the man and find him endearing, and then he became someone whose opinion mattered to me. It had all happened over a relatively short period. Yet, I considered myself observant and had missed the entire process, which was why I could only shrug and go along with it since, apparently, it was going to happen whether or not I had an opinion.
I clearly cared about the stubborn idiot with a good heart, and while I didn't need him trying to place a halo, tarnished or not, atop my head, it still stung a little to think he’d been so easily dissuaded from trying to give me some credit.
"Well," he said slowly, and I braced for whatever judgment was about to come out of his mouth. "Maybe you think it's just spite, and maybe it is...partially. But a spiteful, bitter man would never put himself in harm's way for someone he didn't know all that much. You take a bullet for someone you care about or because you can't stand to see someone get hurt when they don't deserve it."
I stared at him, giving myself a shake. “Say what?"
He chuckled. “Finally, I managed to stun ya into shuttin' your mouth. It only took half a year, but I guess it's somethin' at least."
"I...wasn't expecting that."
"Well, it's what you're gettin', so learn to live with it. Ya didn't just put yourself in danger for her, but you did everything you could to get ya both outta that mess. Don't think she didn't give me the details."
"Gory as they were," I said blithely, still trying to wrap my head around my expectations being outright subverted.
"Life is messy, don't see why death should be any different," he said with a small, not totally genuine smile. "Fact is, I was right to put you in charge of keepin' an eye on her. The men here are good, and they woulda fought for her, but I don't think they could have done what you did."
"I can't decide if you're underestimating them or overselling me...a bit of both, actually."
"Look, the stuff I gave you so much Hell about is the same stuff that got you and her out of that mess. You're quick, in the head and body, you got a good sense for what people are gonna do, and comin' up with somethin' to get the upper hand. And...well, I didn't really think about it until it got messy, but the fact that you had to do a lot to survive all ya been through means you were willin' to do the sorta things necessary to keep ya both alive."
"You can just say I killed one man, highly likely I killed a second, and would have killed the third if I had the chance. All done without mercy or hesitation. Just call me a killer, Ambrose. It'll save us a lot of trouble. That and tact looks weird on you."
He gave my ass another slap, scowling. "And if you weren't willin' to kill, neither of ya would be here. I ain't exactly got clean hands. You ever killed someone who didn't deserve it?"
"Uh...directly?"
"Um, yes?"
"No. Indirectly or to my knowledge?"
"Um."
"That I don't know."
He sighed. “."
I was pushing him too far if he was getting tired rather than exasperated, and I gave him a pained smile. “Look, I just...I'm not used to this sort of conversation, okay? I appreciate it. I really, really do. But I'm trying not to bolt for the nearest door and head for the hills."
"Bein' dragged here, kept here, and put under my watch for who knows how long wasn't enough to make ya wanna book it, but...me bein' nice is?"
"Err...sort of."
"What happened to being honest?"
I groaned. “Fine, if I say what I'm thinking, can we move on from the subject and not talk about it for a while so I don’t feel like I'm going to explode?"
"Sure."
"It's not that you're being nice. It's realizing that I'm probably falling for you with each passing day and getting closer to being in love, and now the realization that you sound like you're about there yourself." His eyes widened to an almost comic level, mouth opening and then snapping shut with an audible click. I gave him a pained smile. “Hey, you said we could change the subject."
"That’s...well," he said, clearing his throat, "somethin' to...think over."
"And you didn't deny it, which tells me plenty," I said with a sigh.
"I do have one more thing to say, though," he said with a grin.
"God in Heaven, what?"
He leaned closer, gripping my ass in his roughened hand. “Your ass is amazing. Gift from God."
Which was a blatantly transparent way of changing the subject, but its genuineness wasn't in question because I had a full view of his body and could see Not So Little Ambrose stirring to life as his fingers traced my ass. I raised a brow. “So, are you trying to use a heartfelt conversation about your thankfulness for what I did, and us more or less admitting this is more than sex as your way of...getting more sex?"
He screwed his face up thoughtfully. “Depends."
"On what? If it's working?"
"Is it?"
"What can I say? I'm a weak man, and though I know giving in will result in my ass being as sore as my back tomorrow, I cannot deny that having you pin me face down on the bed and letting you have your way with me is appealing."
He twisted, one hand closing around my upper arm. "Hmm, if I do it like this and don't touch your wound?—"
"You can have your way with me."
"Mmm," he said, which was probably meant to be a hum of agreement, but as always when he was aroused, his noises became deep and guttural.
Later, once we’d gained a new layer of sweat, he’d deepened the ache in my ass but left it feeling warm and pleasant. I lay beside him, listening to him snore like he was sawing a log. I snorted when Bear began synchronizing the same noise from the floor, and I stared into Ambrose’s peaceful face, arm thrown over his head, and allowed myself to ignore the discomfort from before to let myself bask in the warmth hiding beneath it.
I had long since suspected that being here had been a blessing in a cleverly made disguise, but he...well, Ambrose was something I definitely hadn't expected. It wasn't even the happiness or pleasure of being with him. I had felt that before. It was the sense of peace that pervaded every interaction whenever we were alone. How I had managed to find peace around someone else was a mystery, but it was novel and wonderful.
Maybe, once I was finally a free man, I might seriously consider staying around…perhaps a lot longer. If life could be like it had been lately, minus the brush with death, of course, then perhaps it wouldn't be so bad. It could even be a life where I could feel secure, safe, and at peace rather than constantly looking over my shoulder and eyeing the horizon warily in fear of what was to come next. It was a comforting thought as I closed my eyes, feeling his warm body pressed against mine, and let myself sleep.
Little did I know, the peace and security I was so content with was about to be disrupted again...along with my sleep.