Page 16 of From the Ashes (Redwood Bay Fire #2)

CHAPTER 16

Zahir

Despite the rest of the One-Thirteen hounding me relentlessly after my call with Colt, I kept the details of the conversation to myself. However, it was difficult to hide the ridiculous grin that kept creeping onto my face throughout the rest of our shift.

It’s true what I’ve been telling myself all along in that nothing has really changed. But I can’t stop myself from feeling like everything has changed. We’ve turned a corner in a way we never got the opportunity to after high school.

I’m not na?ve. The deal with his parents, the family business, and his career are huge obstacles that could very well tear us apart just like they did before. The difference is that when we were teenagers, I never questioned Colt’s feelings for me. I simply knew he felt the same way about me as I did him. Then I spent the next fifteen years thinking it had all been nothing but an experimental summer fling for him that meant nothing.

Now I know better.

If what drove him out of my door the other night really was fueled by his conviction that he’s fundamentally not good enough for me because of his past actions…that means he cares. A lot. And while I’ve thought of him as a liar all this time, I’m now sure that’s not the case. He might have neglected to say certain facts out loud and allowed me to believe in things that weren’t going to happen. But he’s never actually been deceitful to me as far as I’m aware.

Yara will possibly kill me, but I can’t help myself from starting to trust him again. If he says he wants to be with me, then that’s all that really matters. I’m willing to address those other road bumps when we hit them. For now, it’s enough to give him a shot and spend some time together. If our feelings, attraction, and emotions can give us a strong enough foundation, maybe we can overcome the other outside forces or at least find working compromises?

So here we are, ready to try again. Starting by spending Friday evening at his place. Alone. We aren’t running into each other by accident or one seeking the other out to pass information along or even agreeing to meet with a third party. This is just going to be us two, on purpose, by choice.

The deliberateness of it puts the option of commitment on the table. Obviously, nothing is guaranteed. But the fact that we’re no longer dancing around the subject is as much a relief as it is terrifying.

I’ve had plenty of first dates, most of which never really went anywhere. I was usually a little nervous purely because I’m not a fan of awkward silences, but I hardly ever put much pressure on them to go well. Deep down, I think I was probably sabotaging them from the onset. I was so afraid of getting my heart broken again that I didn’t want to even open myself up to the possibility it could lead to anything serious.

As I walk up to Colt’s apartment complex, I’m feeling a whole host of varying emotions. It’s not a first date because we’ve known each other since we were fourteen. He was my best friend and my first love. A decade and a half might have passed since we parted ways, but even the short time we’ve spent together over the last few weeks has caught us up considerably on our adult lives. We’ve even already had sex.

But there is a bubbling anticipation as I press the buzzer on the outer door and nerves of a different kind. On the one hand, it’s Colt. I’ve never clicked with anyone in my life like I have with him. It should be easy and casual. On the other hand, this fresh new start between us feels delicate and vulnerable and so fucking important. Those countless dates with other guys had very little riding on them.

This has everything.

Once inside, I jog up a couple of flights of stairs, but hesitate outside his door, taking one last moment to really consider the implications of what we’re doing. I’ve gone over and over it and I’m sure the pros outweigh the cons, but this is such a big step that I’d be remiss if I didn’t pause and breathe for an extra second or two.

When all my thoughts settle, one stands out above the rest.

I want this. I want to spend time with Colt. That’s all that really matters.

Lifting my fist ready to knock, I feel a burst of nerves like butterflies in my stomach. Before I can hesitate further or even make my presence known, the door opens suddenly inward. Colt stands over the threshold as my hand hovers midair, and we blink at each other.

“You came,” he says breathlessly.

“Of course,” I reply, finally lowering my arm sheepishly. Okay, so perhaps we’re both a little nervous and there might be some awkwardness, after all.

But that means we both care, right?

Colt seems to come to his senses and steps back with a small chuckle. “Come in, come in.”

Once I’m in the short, narrow entrance hall, I slip my shoes off. There are doors to my left and right as well as a little more hallway on the right, too. That way seems to be the bathroom and maybe the bedroom, so I’m not surprised when he indicates I should go left.

My bare feet slap lightly on the tiles, and a ceiling fan turns lazily overhead. To my right, large windows show palm trees rustling outside in a comforting way.

The space inside is noticeably sparse. Colt hasn’t been back in Redwood Bay for long and I imagine he’s not certain what he’s doing long-term, so I assume he’s renting. Still, the lack of personality is jarring.

I look back at Colt and he’s staring at me. My face heats like I’ve been caught doing something bad. But he rubs the back of his neck and sighs.

“It’s pretty depressing, isn’t it?”

I shrug. “It just needs a little TLC.”

He shakes his head and moves to the open kitchen area, pouring us a glass of water each. “I’d love to tell you that my place back in New York was much better, but I barely even had any house plants. There was a series of large black and white photos of the city that I liked. My colleagues got them for me one year after I closed a huge case. But they’re so generic, they wouldn’t look out of place in a hotel room. I haven’t even unpacked them.” He hands me a glass. “I haven’t unpacked a lot, actually. Half of my stuff is still in a storage locker in town.”

I sip my water and think about what he’s telling me. “Did you feel like you couldn’t show who you really are?”

He scoffs and leans against the counter. “Damn. We’re, like, two minutes in and the heavy shit is already creeping out. Yeah, that’s probably it. I’ve been carefully projecting this neutral, masculine image for so long, it’s like I don’t even remember what sparks joy for me anymore. I didn’t want to risk anyone seeing the ‘real’ me. Still don’t, I guess.”

I hate that so much. “What would you do with this place if you could? If there wasn’t anyone who’d judge you for it or if no one set foot in here aside from you?”

“I’d hang your art,” he says quietly and without hesitation. I blink, not certain if I heard him right. But he looks into my eyes and offers me a small smile. “I didn’t see anything when were at your place. Do you have some hanging elsewhere?”

Ouch. I swallow and glance away. “I don’t, no,” I say with a sad chuckle. “That side of my life was something I mostly shared with you and my teta. After school finished, I didn’t get much time to paint what with all my training, and I no longer had the free studio space to work in. So I just sort of let it go.”

He nibbles his lower lip. We’re both propped against the breakfast bar, glasses of water cradled protectively in our hands, as if they’re acting like shields. It’s unsurprising that we’d both be feeling a little defensive after jumping into such a raw conversation right away. But I’m glad we’re being authentic rather than skimming the surface with small talk. I’m so exhausted of hiding who I am for fear or being judged or rejected, and it sounds like he is, too. Maybe even more so.

“Painting makes me think of you,” I say softly. “It was as if you were the one I was trying to bare my soul for, so I had to get my feelings out onto the canvas for you to see.”

“And that’s why you don’t have any up on your walls now,” he guesses correctly. “Please tell me you didn’t throw them away.”

I shrug. “No idea. My teta had them all in her bigger house, but I assume when she moved, she sold them or gave them to Goodwill or whatever. I never asked. It’s okay,” I assure him. “I’ve spent a lot of time dwelling on the past. I try my best now to focus on the present and look to the future.”

He nods and licks his lips. “I get that. The past is done. There’s nothing we can do to change it. But we can control what happens in the here and now. Would you still paint, though? Can you create new pieces?”

“Do you still want to see into my soul?” I say with a laugh, intending it as a joke to lighten the mood. But Colt’s expression is completely serious and sincere.

“Yes,” he says, his gaze unwavering from mine.

Slowly, he places his glass down, then steps closer to me, taking my water from my fingers and placing it next to his before cradling my hands in his.

“I’ve missed you so much, Zee.”

My breath catches. No one calls me that but him. I haven’t heard it in fifteen years. My heart races, like that one tender nickname has unlocked a door, pulling me back into the past like a time traveler.

“I’ve missed you, too,” I admit, my eyes burning so I have to close them. I haven’t admitted that to myself in a very long time. I haven’t admitted it to anyone else ever.

He rubs his thumbs across my knuckles in a soothing manner. “I’d really like to kiss you, if I may?”

Not trusting myself to speak, I manage a stilted nod. The only thing that could stop me going for this right now would be the fear of losing this all again. But I can’t lose anything if I don’t even try to hold onto it. I’ll deal with the future when it comes.

This moment, I’m focusing on the present and nothing else.

Our last kiss was frantic and messy. This one is sweet and tentative. His lips ghost over mine, barely skimming before coming back for a little more each time. I whimper as I lean in, chasing his touch. I slip my hands out of his so I can slide them over his hips, tugging so our stomachs bounce against each other.

“I was going to cook us dinner,” Colt mumbles against my mouth. “I got expensive wine.”

“Later,” I promise him. I want all that, I really do. No man has cooked for me in years, and I want to keep talking like this, earnestly with our hearts on our sleeves.

But I need something else first.

“Take me to bed,” I utter, starting to shuffle us in that direction. “Please, Colt.”

He grins. “If that’s what you want?” He’s paused the kiss now and is walking backward toward his bedroom, our hands interlinked again.

“More than anything,” I say. “We don’t have to do much. I just…will you hold me?”

His expression softens and he squeezes my fingers as he leads the way. “I’ll hold you, Zahir. And if you want to keep our clothes on, we absolutely can. But just know that a clothing-free option is available as well. Also—orgasms.”

I groan, fighting my knee-jerk reaction to take things slow. What does slow even mean when we have so many years of history between us?

“Orgasms sound good,” I admit.

A wicked glint sparkles in his eyes. “They do, don’t they?”

His bedroom has about as much personality as the rest of the apartment, but I’m not really paying much attention to the décor if I’m being honest. He’s kissing me again and now we’ve reached our destination, I pull my hands from his and slip them under his T-shirt, feeling his hot skin against my fingertips.

“Zee,” he murmurs into my mouth, and my entire body shivers.

I don’t see any point in wasting more time than we already have, so I keep pushing my hands up, lifting his shirt over his head. Still kissing my mouth and trying to maneuver us toward the bed, he mimics me, exposing my torso.

He’s grinning as we tackle our belts and zippers next, and I laugh along with him. Last time was so intense and probably clouded by both of us hesitating, unsure if we should be doing what we did. Now we’re both in this together, on purpose, and I can feel myself having fun like I did that whole magical summer after graduation.

“You’re my sunshine,” I mumble between kisses.

“You’re my ocean,” he replies automatically, and my heart melts that he remembers our silly little saying. Of course he does. What we had wasn’t a meaningless fling like I thought. I’ve been so harsh on him for so many years.

I’m very relieved that I got it so wrong.

We were naked last time as well, but that was all a bit of a blur and over far too quickly. This time, he pauses to sit on the edge of the bed, his hands resting on my waist as he breathes heavily and lets his eyes graze over my features. I rest my hands on his shoulders and do the same, drinking in all of his golden skin and taut muscles. Despite many years on the East Coast, he still smells like sunshine to me, hence the nickname. I wonder if I still smell like the ocean to him.

My cock is half-hard, but when he leans in, it’s to kiss my stomach rather than give me any relief. But then he’s sucking and nipping at my hipbone, and his fingers are digging into the flesh of my ass, and I have a feeling he’s trying to mark me.

Mark me as his.

I groan and card my fingers through his soft, thick hair, giving him space to do whatever he wants. Having lost so much time between us, now it feels like it’s standing still.

Eventually, he shifts back on the bed, drawing me down with him so we’re lying side by side once more, kissing mouths and caressing fingers over sides, backs, and arms. When he slips his middle finger against the tip of my crack, he pauses and leans away slightly to look into my eyes.

“Yes,” I say before he can even ask me anything. I know what he wants, and it’s the same thing as me.

I have to feel him inside me again or I might just burst into flames.

He only tears his eyes off me to reach into his nightstand and pull out lube and condoms. Part of me wants to tell him we don’t need the rubbers. We never used them before as neither of us had fooled around with anyone else previously. Obviously, a lifetime has passed since then, and we’ve both had a lot of sex with strangers. I know I didn’t have any issues at my last medical examination, but now doesn’t feel like the moment to stop and ask Colt about it.

And actually, considering all the harrowing emotions we’ve put ourselves through, I can appreciate taking this part slow. By giving ourselves a little extra protection physically, it somehow makes me feel better psychologically as well. Like I might be jumping off the cliff, but I do still have a parachute on.

For now, he leaves the condom box and instead squeezes a little lube onto his fingers. I’d kind of forgotten how much he insisted on taking care of me before. Of both of us. His love language is definitely about actions, which is why up and leaving was the only way he could break things off, I suppose.

No, no more of that. The past needs to stay in the past. We’re living for the present.

It’s not difficult to be in the here and now when he rolls me onto my back, spreading my legs so he can kneel between them. He props himself up with one hand, hovering over me and brushing our noses together. With his other hand, he runs a slippery finger up and down my crack.

“You still like it like this?” he asks.

I’ll like it anyway with you, I think. But I simply nod to answer his question. I want to be face to face for this time. I like being on my back with him crowding me. In that way, this is actually similar to last time. But as he kisses my mouth and begins to finger my tight hole, I know in my bones I don’t have to worry about him bolting off on this occasion.

He promised to cook me dinner. He’s not going to fuck and run.

And this doesn’t feel like fucking as he gradually stretches me out and kisses me tenderly. It feels like making love.

I wonder if that’s what it really is.

When he eventually suits up and begins to ease his way in, I’m sweating, trembling and panting, alternatively clinging to his shoulders and the bed sheets to keep me grounded. “Shh, it’s okay, I’ve got you,” he soothes, although he’s not exactly keeping his cool, either. He’s red-faced and dripping as he grits his teeth and pushes deeper inside me, grunting like an animal.

He’s perfect. I don’t want Colton Ross, hotshot lawyer who always has his shit together. I want my Colt, hesitations and fuckups galore. I want the mess and the uncertainty because as long as we stay earnest and curious, I truly believe we could share something more authentic than we’ve ever experienced before.

I wrap my legs around his waist and kiss him hard as he bottoms out. He nestles himself as far as he can inside me before giving an experimental roll of his hips that makes me moan wantonly into his mouth.

“I’m done waiting,” I growl and tug his hair, making him laugh and give me a dazzling smile. “Fuck me, Colt. Please.”

“Okay, baby,” he murmurs before nipping at my earlobe and thrusting suddenly.

I cry out and cling to him, blinking as I gasp for air. Baby? He never called me that when we were teenagers. But that one word now has short-circuited my brain and it’s all I can do to cling to him as we begin to writhe.

I’ve never been anyone’s baby before. Yeah, I’m sure guys have said it during sex at some point, but I don’t remember a single one of them. They weren’t Colt.

As much as I’m trying to be sensible about not jumping into commitment after our complicated history…I really, really want to be his baby.

Thankfully, I’m soon too lost in the physical sensation to let my thoughts distract me any longer. He angles my hips and starts nailing my prostate like he never forgot the exact spot even after all the distance between us. We kiss and grunt and hold on to one another like a life raft in a storm.

I can tell he’s getting close by the way he’s scrunching his nose, which I love because it means that I’ve remembered his little quirks, too. “Touch me,” I beg him. I’m perfectly capable of jerking off my own dick, of course. But we both love it more when he’s steering the ship.

His fingers feel like they only wrap around my length for mere seconds before I’m arching my back, gnashing my teeth with my eyes screwed shut as I start blasting ropes of cum all over my belly.

“Oh, fuck, Zee,” Colt gasps as he rams even harder into me. “Yes, baby, like that. Fuck, fuck, fuck…”

Even through the condom, I feel when his cock starts throbbing and spurting inside me. I hold him against me as we both ride out the shockwaves, vibrating together as the incredible high dissipates.

Regardless of everything I’ve been feeling and telling myself since we set up this date, as soon as I catch my breath, the worry kicks in and my gaze snaps to Colt.

Who kisses my mouth. Sweetly.

“I’m not going anywhere, I promise,” he tells me as he begins to soften inside me.

“This is your place,” I whisper.

He chuckles and nuzzles our noses together. “I’m not kicking you out, either. In fact, I’m going to invite you to shower with me, then I’m going to cook us dinner, and if it’s not too bold…please stay the night, Zahir.”

My heart skips a beat. Does he really mean that? “I don’t have a toothbrush,” I blurt out stupidly.

But he just laughs gently again and rests our foreheads together. “I bought a spare today just in case,” he tells me.

Out of everything so far this evening, that’s possibly what makes my insides flip the most. He was always planning on asking me to stay. He wants me to stay.

He wants this. He wants us.

“In that case, I’ll stay, then,” I tease him. “But dinner better be good.”

“If not, there’s expensive wine!” he cries before smothering kisses all over my face as I laugh. Finally, he captures my mouth, moving with care and attention. I can feel his heart beating against my chest.

The mess between us is getting cold and his cock must be overly sensitive still inside me. But we don’t move to the shower just yet. I think he wants to hold onto this moment as much as I do.

Which is silly, because the way this evening is going suggests it’s just the first of many. But I guess we know there’s still a shadow on uncertainty looming over us, trying to cloud our sunshine and perfect waves.

We’ll deal with the rain when it falls. For now, summer has finally returned.