Beauty in the Ashes

He kissed the swells of my breasts and I lost all coherent thought. Caelan knew exactly what he was doing to me, smug bastard. I had to admit, though, there was something deliciously erotic about the thought of Cael painting on my naked body.

The feel of the brush.

His fingertips ghosting along.

Maybe even his mouth and tongue.

I shivered at the very thought of it.

“Yes,” I gasped breathlessly, my fingers finding the hairs on the back of his head and pulling his mouth to mine. His lips branded me, burning me all the way down to my toes.

He nipped at my chin, and murmured, “Mmm, this is going to be fun.”

He stood and held out a hand for me, pulling me up and into his arms. He held me for a moment, his hands warm on my arms, as his nose glided along the curve where my shoulders met my neck. His tongue glided out with a quick lick. “You always smell and taste so good.”

His fingers found the bottom of my tank top and he eased it off.

All of his movements were calm and calculated. Nothing like the frenzy I was used to when we collided.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed, his breath tickling my skin. I shivered as Goosebumps broke out across my body. I swallowed thickly, my heart racing even faster than it had moments before. I felt something in our relationship irreversibly shift in that moment.

For once, we weren’t trying to hurt or punish or use one another. The air in the room crackled with barely contained passion. We were combustible and it would only take one small spark to burn us completely.

His lips found mine and we sank into each other. One of his hands held the nape of my neck, pressing me close, while the other rested against my now bare waist. His tongue glided leisurely against my slightly parted lips. Slow. Slow. Slow. Everything he did to me was with unhurried movements.

After confessing everything to him, I didn’t feel the need for rough, uncontained, sex. We’d both been using it to mask things we didn’t want to acknowledge. Now that it was out in the open, we didn’t need that anymore, and God did it feel amazing.

“I want you, Sutton,” he growled against my skin, “I want you so fucking bad, but I’m not good enough for you.”

I understood what he meant. I felt it too. With our problems, we might understand each other, but could we ever really love one another? Could we provide the stability we ultimately needed? I wasn’t sure, but right now I didn’t care.

“You have me,” I breathed.

“For now,” was his reply.

His lips covered mine, and then descended down my neck to the tops of my breasts. His fingers found the clasp of my bra and he unsnapped it easily. It slithered down my arms and dropped to the floor.

He got down on his knees, placing small light kisses on my stomach.

My head fell back and my eyes closed—overwhelmed by the sweetness. Sweet wasn’t a word you’d typically use to describe Caelan or me, and definitely not together, but right now, that’s what it was. I’d never been okay with sweet. Marcus had ruined that for me, just like the death of Caelan’s family had ruined it for him. Right now, though, it was what we both needed. We had exposed ourselves in more ways than one—and neither of us ran.

My eyes popped open when I felt something cool touch my skin—a shiver shaking my whole body. I lowered my head to see his finger drawing an intricate lace-like design on my abdomen with purple paint.

At the feel of my

stare, he stopped, his eyes flicking up to meet mine. My heart tightened in my chest at the look he gave me. No man had ever looked at me like that…like I was perfect and unflawed. I reveled in it.

He kissed the skin just above my naval and went back to painting. He continued the design around my back and then up my spine. I swept my long hair out of the way, so it now shielded my chest.

I felt his lips press against the back of my neck and a small sigh of pleasure escaped me.

I never knew it could feel so good to be worshipped.

He didn’t say the words, but for the first time ever, I felt truly loved. He knew everything and he didn’t look at me with disgust, or leave. He was here. He was with me. He didn’t care. To him, I wasn’t flawed. I was a normal girl and he was a normal guy—together at last and truly one.

He stood and I noticed at some point he had removed his shirt. I’d been so absorbed in the feel of his hands and the paint on my body to notice.

His hand curved behind my neck, drawing my lips to his. He didn’t kiss me, though, just held me close enough that our lips brushed together when he spoke. “Your turn.”