20. Ash
ASH
Kael’s eyes widen, but his smile says he wants exactly what I do.
He’s wrapped in a towel, and I’m fully dressed. It’s not how I planned our first kiss when walking up here, but that towel doesn’t last long. It drops the minute his hand finds the back of my neck, pulling me in, and when our mouths meet, all my plans go up in smoke.
Even after all those showers, he smells like fire. It clings to both of us, the day still in our hair, and somehow the danger in it tilts into want. Losing control should terrify me. Right now, it makes me harder.
“Take off your shirt,” he whispers, voice rough.
My hands are trembling as I yank the tee over my head, heat blooming everywhere his gaze lands. All I want is to press against him, but I hear his breath catch, and by the time my shirt hits the floor, he’s stepped back.
“What?” I ask, a flicker of insecurity flaring.
“It’s just— Jesus. You’re rich, successful, and built like a fucking swimsuit model.” His tone is a weird mix of awe and disbelief. “I don’t understand what you see in—”
I can’t stand hearing him tear himself down, so I close the distance and press a finger to his lips.
“You’re motherfucking Kael Wright,” I tell him, low, and—
Oh. Fuck.
He wraps a hand around my wrist and draws my finger into his mouth. His eyes never leave mine as his tongue drags over it, and my knees nearly give out.
“Sexy,” I manage. “Funny. Kind. Artistic. You cut a tree in half.”
He smiles around my finger, tongue dragging over my skin, until a shudder rips through me.
“You weren’t too bad yourself,” he teases when he lets me go. “But I thought you didn’t want—”
“I didn’t know what I wanted until I…” I catch myself before I say tripped over you.
“Wanted sex?” he guesses.
And the only word that makes it out of me is, “You.”
Our mouths meet again. My hands roam his back, fingers digging into muscle as I drag him flush against me and swallow his groan. He feels it and answers by kissing me harder.
Then he turns us with surprising strength and pins me against the cool tile.
His mouth leaves mine and travels down my throat, slow and sucking, while his hands slip over my stomach to the button of my jeans.
He gets it open, works the zipper down with unsteady fingers, and then we both lose patience and tear the rest off.
A demanding ache builds low in my body, a want that has me sliding my hands under his thighs and lifting before I’ve thought it through. His legs wrap around my waist immediately, ankles locking behind my back, and his cock presses hot against my stomach.
“Fuck, you’re sexy,” I mutter, carrying him fully under the shower.
Water crashes over us, turning every touch slick. Our mouths slip against each other under the spray, teeth catching, breaths breaking as water runs between us, down his spine, and over my chest. Beneath the water and the salt on his skin, I catch the faint taste of smoke.
He shifts in my arms and rocks against me, cock dragging across my stomach, and I almost miss the fact that he’s laughing. I’ve planted us straight under the showerhead, and the water is pounding him full in the face.
“Shit. Sorry.” I ease us back, blinking water from my eyes, still holding him. “More cramped than I pictured.”
His laugh hums through both of us, buzzing where our bodies press, and that only makes me want him more. This shower’s way too small for what I want to happen between us.
“Not into waterboarding,” he says.
“Noted.” I set him carefully on his feet.
“Bedroom?” he asks, already turning for the door.
Kael sits on the edge of the bed, still damp from the shower. I move to sit beside him, but he stops me, thumbs pressing firm on my hips. His gaze meets mine, and my throat clenches.
More hesitation? What’s he deciding?
He answers before I can ask by sliding his hands around to cup my ass and pull me forward until my toes wedge under the bedframe and his breath skims hot over my aching cock. He looks up at me, presses one slow kiss to the flushed head, and flicks his tongue out to taste the bead of precum.
I choke on a sound that has no business leaving my throat.
My fingers thread into his hair, tightening as he leans in and takes me in one slow, deliberate glide, tongue flat beneath me until I hit the soft back of his throat. He hums, pleased with himself, and the vibration makes my knees almost give.
“Fuck—” My grip tightens in his hair.
His laugh travels through me. One hand cups my balls while the other strokes what his mouth can’t take, and when he pulls back, his lips drag just enough to make me shake. Then he goes down again, deeper, cheeks hollowing around me, and I have to step back before I come from that alone.
He catches my hand to try to pull me back toward the bed, but I drop to my knees between his spread thighs instead.
“My turn,” I whisper.
His breath stutters at the first slow lick up his shaft.
I take my time with him, circling the head with my tongue, savoring the way he thickens and the way his fingers knot in my hair while his other hand fists the sheet.
My free hand slides up his thigh and over his stomach, feeling the muscles jump under skin still warm from the shower.
When his hips start to lose rhythm, I ease off, kiss the inside of his thigh, and climb onto the bed.
He drags me down on top of him immediately, legs locking around my waist as he lines us up so we slide against each other.
His hand finds me first, fingers closing firm, thumb sweeping over the head of my cock to spread the wetness there.
I gasp into his mouth and reach for him the same, wrapping around his dick to match his pressure before I even find the rhythm.
For a second, it’s too much, too fast, and too eager, our elbows knocking into each other.
Then something locks in. Our strokes sync and our hips follow.
Every drag of his hand pulls a matching one from mine, and the friction between us turns inevitable.
It shouldn’t feel this easy. Kael’s practically a stranger, exactly the kind of mistake I swore I wouldn’t make, and yet he’s looking at me with nothing but dimples and that wide grin. Wanting him doesn’t feel like a risk to weigh or a problem to solve. It just is.
His grip tightens, setting the pace, and I follow it without thinking. Our hands move faster, slick with precum, hips grinding as the pressure winds us tighter and tighter. His breathing breaks around my name.
“Ash.”
“Me too,” I rasp, gripping harder as his body keeps winding tighter.
He breaks first, back bowing as he comes in my hand. The sight shoves me right over the edge, and I bury my face against his neck as I come over his fist, shaking through it.
A gentleman would rush off to clean up, but we just stay twisted together, damp skin cooling as our breaths gradually even out.
Today has more than earned exhaustion. I know that, but my pulse refuses to settle.
His arms and legs are both still wrapped around me and everything in me is awake enough to know there’s no chance I’ll let go first.
“Can’t sleep?” Kael asks.
“You neither?”
He props himself on one elbow. In the low light he looks more serious. “This is usually when I’d bounce. Set an early alarm. Disappear before the lights come on. You know.”
He exhales loudly, and my chest ratchets down to reinstall all the defenses I’d just torn down.
“Ah,” I say lightly. “Here I was thinking we were being romantic.”
He scrubs a hand over his face, then looks at me again. “That’s the thing. I don’t want to leave. That’s why I can’t sleep.”
“That’s…” I huff a quiet laugh. “Kind of a terrible habit.” My thumb brushes his jaw. “Good thing you’re breaking it.”
“I have to make art,” he says. “If we’re going to do this, you have to know that.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Your, uh, policy. You don’t do one-night stands.” He sits up. “So I’m just saying. My art will always come first.”
My policy was actually to swear off relationships until after FIRE, but that rule couldn’t survive Kael.
“Are you asking if I’ll circle yes or no?” I sit up too, and mime passing him a folded-up note.
“You’re ruining this.” He shoves my shoulder.
“You’re the one laying down relationship rules right after getting me naked.”
“I just don’t want to surprise you later.”
I hook an arm around his waist and pull him back down beside me. “Please,” I murmur against his skin. “I think I like your kind of surprises.”
“Can do,” he says. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you. So… what are you circling?”
“Yes,” I say. “I circle Yes.”
Our legs intertwine. Instead of burning, we simmer, indulging in this new, exhilarating connection. It’s like January second or the start of Lent and all my resolutions are already crumbling. I was never built for abstinence anyway.
His kisses ease me toward sleep, and when I wake, morning light filters in through the blinds.
Kael’s not in bed, and every warning I’ve ignored flares back to life in my gut. Then his voice drifts in under the door. He’s not gone. He’s in the living room. I yank on shorts and a T-shirt and follow it.
“There he is,” Sharon says. My cheeks heat, and I rake a hand through my hair. “Breakfast?”
Kael stands by the window, sunlight gilding his skin and illuminating Sharon’s easel as if to prove this place really does have some kind of magic. Seeing him barefoot, glowing, and grinning washes away the last of my anxiety.
“That sounds amazing,” I say, but my feet are carrying me toward Kael instead of the kitchen.
I hesitate. Yesterday we told Sharon and Walt we weren’t…
Then his mouth brushes my cheek, his hand finding my arm in a light, easy squeeze.
He steps aside to show me what he’s working on: our canvas, the half-finished project that started this whole improbable adventure.
The chains, clippers, and watering can are now rendered in lifelike detail.
The money tree is the biggest change. He’s set its leaves ablaze with orange and gold.
“I was inspired,” he says softly.
“I think it looks like wings,” Sharon says, peering over our shoulders.
She’s wrong. He’s painted something too raw and wild to be wings. Somehow, he’s painted us.
“It’s incredible,” I breathe, standing beside him. “How long have you been awake?”
“Up before we were,” Sharon says. “Least you’ve got something besides fire in there,” she adds with a wink.
Kael leans over and kisses me, sending shivers and something embarrassingly close to a swoon through me.
I’m not just losing control. I’ve lost it. This… this could be bad. Or it could be wonderful. The universe and all. This morning, at least, it’s good: the smell of breakfast, Kael beside me in the warm light, Sharon and Walt’s easy company.
Jenny pulls up around ten. When we step outside to meet her, downtown Paradise is awake.
From the ashes, a phoenix rises. I glance at Kael, then back at the street. Now I understand what Sharon meant.
Bicycles lean against storefronts. Laughter ricochets down the street.
A dog walker loses her battle against too many leashes.
It’s almost picturesque with the town’s recent history tucked under a fresh coat of normal.
But the fire is still there in the way people meet each other’s eyes and nod, like the past is a language they all learned.
I take Kael’s hand, squeeze, and try not to plan anything beyond the moment.