Beauty in the Ashes

by Micalea Smeltzer

  “I think that’s a perfectly normal reaction,” I commented.

  “Is it?” An elegant brow arched as he looked at me. “It seems pretty fucked up to me.”

  I shrugged. “Yeah, it’s messed up to harbor anger like that towards them, but I don’t think there’s something wrong with you because of it. I’m angry at my parents for not believing me, and angry that they were too blind to see what was happening when I was a child. But really, is it their fault? No. They chose to see what they wanted and believe who they wanted, and I could have gone to them at any time…maybe if I’d still been a child they would’ve handled things differently. I’ll never know now.”

  He let a pent up breath whizz past his lips. “I’d give anything to have one more day with them. Just one. To tell them I loved them and I’m sorry that I wasn’t a better son and brother. I have so many regrets and there’s no magical do over button for life so I’m stuck with them.”

  With a slight chuckle, he added, “You know, they say to appreciate the little things in life. That is so fucking true. I miss all the small things from my old life. The sound of my mom and dad laughing as they made breakfast. Cayla singing in the shower. Our ‘forced’ family dinners where we each had to say two truths and a lie about our day, then guess which was the lie. I hated it all at the time, and now it’s what I hold closest to my heart.” Looking at me, he breathed out deeply. “I don’t drink or do drugs to forget them, I do it to numb the pain remembering causes, because I never want to pretend that they didn’t exist. If I don’t remember, who will?”

  “Oh, Caelan,” I sobbed and finally gave in to the temptation to wrap my arms around him. He held me close, his fingers entangling in the strands of my hair as my face found the crook of his neck. I scooted my body as close to him as possible, wishing I could burrow inside him and drive away the darkness that plagued him. I didn’t want him to have to hurt and suffer any longer. I knew the pain he felt was far worse than mine, and that was saying something. I knew how easy it was to dwell on things you couldn’t change, how it ate you alive. It was a horrible existence and he deserved better. So did I.

  “You wanted to know where I went today,” he whispered, his chest vibrating beneath my ear when he spoke.

  I nodded when he didn’t continue right away.

  “I go to the cemetery. I like to visit them,” he admitted. “I don’t want them to be alone and I…” He stopped himself.

  “And you what?” I prompted.

  “It’s not important,” he sighed, his fingers tightening around my hair to the point that it was almost painful.

  I didn’t press the matter, not wanting to push too far. After all, he had given me more information than I expected. I knew when to back off and now was one of those moments.

  We laid on the floor, wrapped in each other’s arms, for a long while.

  I think we both needed to bask in the peacefulness of having it all out in the open. No lies and no secrets separated us right now. We were just two people, clinging to the support the other provided. I’d never had anyone like Caelan—someone I cared about so completely and so selflessly. He was a beacon of light in my dreary life. I knew he didn’t see himself that way, but he was to me at least.

  I couldn’t help but believe that some cosmic force had pushed us together, making sure our paths crossed. I’d thought I was coming here for no reason, but now I believed that I had come here for him.

  We were destined to meet and destined to heal one another.

  I was more sure of that than I was of anything else.

  His fingers lazily brushed up and down my arm. A light hum buzzed in the back of his throat and the sound of it calmed my racing heart.

  After a while, he brushed his lips against my cheeks, the scruff adorning his chin chafing my skin. “Be my canvas.” His voice was a husky whisper against my ear.

  His fingers found the strap of my bra and he grasped it in his fingers before pushing it off my shoulder and trailing his soft lips down the side of my neck.

  I found my body arching off the floor and a soft moan escaped my throat.

  “Wh-what?” My voice shook, distracted by the feel of his tongue on my skin.

  “Let me paint you,” he kissed his way over to the other side of my neck.

  “You want t-to paint a picture of me?” I asked, my head rolling back to allow him better access. “Didn’t you already do that?”

  “No, not of you. I want to paint you…your body.”

  My heart sped up in my chest at his declaration.

  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.”

  With a body-racking shudder, I reached for some paint. I didn’t even notice the color I grabbed. I smeared it on my fingers and then glided my hands down his chest, swirling it around. I was no artist like him, so it looked more like a child’s doing, but from the look on his face, it was the best thing ever. He was clearly enjoying this.

  I swallowed thickly, moving my hand back up to cup his cheek—green paint getting in the heavy stubble on his cheeks. I wanted to tell him I loved him, but the words were lodged in my throat, unable to come out. I couldn’t do it. I was too scared.

  With the paint still sticking to his fingers, a grin lit his face, and he smeared a large chunk over my cheek.

  I paused as my mouth fell open and then I surprised us both by laughing. A real, genuine, carefree, laugh. I hadn’t laughed like that in so long.

  He smiled too, letting out a soft chuckle as his chest brushed against mine. His shoulders raised in a small shrug. “I couldn’t resist.”

  I put some on his nose. “Me either.”

  “Oh, it’s on now!”

  I let out a shriek as he grabbed me, smearing the paint on my torso with his hands. He held me caged in his arms and smeared some on my nose so that I now matched him.

  I tried in vain to reach for more paint, but he was stronger than me.

  “Caelan,” I panted around laughter, “let me go.”

  “Never,” he whispered, turning me around so that we were chest to chest. His nose brushed against my cheek and then his fingers glided lightly over the same spot. One of my hands rested on his shoulder and my eyes closed. His other hand grasped my side to keep me from moving. Swirling his finger around my cheek, he said, “You’re mine.”

  His lips claimed mine in a demanding, soul-stealing kiss, preventing me from saying anything. I didn’t need to.

  I had no idea where we were going and where we’d end up, but I knew, no matter what, a piece of me would always belong to Caelan Gregory.

  Paint smeared all over our bodies as we kissed, but neither of us cared. It only added to the beauty of it.

  He released my lips with an audible pop and I felt slightly dizzy. “I want to try something,” he breathed.

  “What?”

  “You’ll see.”

  He strode away and I was left swaying. He opened a closet door and returned with a large roll of canvas. He slowly unfurled it and laid it on the floor like a blanket.

  He smirked as he grabbed several different colors of paint and squirted them all over the canvas. I think I had an idea where he was going with this, and my God it had my blood pumping even more than the idea and action of him painting me.

  When he was satisfied with the colors on the canvas, he placed the bottles back, and stood in front of me once more.

  He undid the button of my jeans and slid them down my legs, along with my panties. I trembled at the look in his eyes. They were passion filled and swirled with lust. I stepped out of my jeans and he tossed them to the other side of the apartment where there was no danger of them being ruined by the paint.

  “Lay down, Sutton.” His voice was husky and commanding.

  I did as he said, not worried about the paint getting in my hair—not worried about anything, really. He stared down at me, his eyes skimming every curve of my body. His fingers twitched at his sides and I couldn’t help wondering if he didn’t wish he could sketch me. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “You look like an angel.”

  My whole body flushed at his words and gaze.

  This, right here, having someone look at you like you’re everything, was what life was about—finding that one person that woke you up and made you feel alive.

  “Are you going to join me?” I crooked a finger, beckoning him to me.

  A wry smile tilted his lips. “In a minute. For now, I want to look.”

  I bit my lip, letting him look at me. I had never been shy, but the way he looked at me made it hard to resist the urge to cover myself.

  The only thing that stopped me was his scrutiny didn’t make me feel dirty—quite the opposite actually.

  “Please, Cael,” I finally begged, when I couldn’t stand it any longer.

  I needed him on me.

  Inside me.

  Filling me completely.

  “Please,” I repeated when he didn’t move.

  He removed the last of his clothes and lowered.

  Every nerve ending in my body hummed when his skin touched mine.

  I needed him like I required oxygen to breathe. That kind of desire was dangerous, but I didn’t care. He filled a void inside me that had existed for far too long. He thought he was bad, but he was wrong. He healed every broken piece of me with each tender kiss.

  I thought I couldn’t be saved.

  But he proved me wrong.

  In even the darkest moments of our lives, there’s always a beacon of light if we look hard enough.

  That light was shining blindingly bright right now.

  He cupped my cheek, smearing more paint against my skin, but now it wasn’t a game.

  My fingers found the strands of his hair and I held on tight. “Kiss me.”

  And he did. Oh God, how he kissed me—devoured me, was a more accurate description. I felt like I gave him a piece of my soul.

  I let him have it all.

  The good and the bad—he took it away.

  His hands rested beside my head, smearing the paint.

  He nipped at my jaw and then took my earlobe between his teeth. “I’m not going to fuck you, Sutton.”

  “Y-you’re not?” I was shocked. I thought—

  “No,” his breath ghosted along my hair, “I’m going to make love to you.”

  My eyes closed and my body clenched in the most delicious way at his words. I’d never been ready for that before, but I was now, with him. He was the person I could give everything to.

  “Yes,” my fingers curled into his hair further, “I want that. Please.”

  He kissed down my neck and over my breasts. “This won’t be like the other times.”

  “Oh, I know.” My back arched as his lips found my stomach.

  “You’re going to give me everything.”

  “Yes…everything,” I gasped as his lips made contact with my heated flesh. “Oh, God.”

  I was coming undone and he’d barely done anything to me yet, but his words, knowing that this time would be unlike anything I’d ever experienced, had my body on the brink of explosion.

  He paid careful attention to every surface of my body, making sure no spot was left bare from his touch and his kiss.

  The paint swirled around us in a dizzying array of colors.

  “Look at me.”

  When I did, he slowly eased inside me. My mouth fell open in a perfect O as my hips lifted to meet his. His head fell back and a smile broke out across his face. “You f
eel so amazing. You were fucking made for me.”

  He moved his hips in slow, deliberate circles. The sensations in my body were unlike anything I’d ever experienced. He hadn’t been lying. He really was making love to me, and it was beautiful.

  A tear slid down my cheek and he frowned. Wiping it away, he said, “Why are you crying? Should I stop?”

  “No,” I placed my hand against his cheek and swallowed thickly, “never stop. This is perfect.”

  He said no more. It wasn’t necessary, because our bodies did all the talking.

  He held himself above me, refusing to kiss me. I knew why. He wanted to see what he was doing to me, and I was more than willing to let him watch. I wanted him to know how affected I was—how only he could reduce me to this.

  Our breaths mingled together in the space between us.

  With each movement, our bodies stuck slightly together due to the paint and the misty sweat clinging to our skin.

  He dipped his hands in some of the paint spread around us, then cupped my breasts, massaging the paint into my skin.

  I could feel him everywhere—in every single pore and fiber of my being.

  I wrapped my legs around his waist and held on to his arms. I needed something to anchor me, so that I didn’t go flying away.

  He flipped over, holding onto me and pulling me up with him so that I was now straddling him. My knees slipped in the paint and I let out a small giggle as I grasped his shoulders so I didn’t fall. We stayed connected and once I was righted I tried to find my rhythm. I didn’t go fast—even though a part of me still wanted to. Sensing my internal struggle, he grasped my hips, guiding me in a slow up and down motion. My hands splayed on his chest and I looked into his eyes. A fire surged inside me—a fire only he created. From the moment we met our attitudes had collided. We were like a thunderstorm—loud, violent, and out of control…but when the storm cleared, we were also that clear light peeking out of the shadows of the clouds.