Of Smoke & Cinnamon

by Ace Gray

  I expect her to blush but, as she’s done so many times, she surprises me. She steps back and lifts onto her tiptoes, which considering the heels said something, and cradles my face.

  “Funny because I used to love a young, straightforward, cute boy named Jay. But a few days ago, I fell for this loving man with a giant heart and dreams that rival my own. He’s shockingly and painfully attractive, too.”

  In a page out of Cam’s book, I try and burrow into her hand to hide. She doesn’t let me. She brings her lips up to mine, somehow finding that last inch to reach.

  Shit.

  I’m going to devour her.

  Camilla kisses my neck then along my jaw as I shove her jacket off so I can peel her clothes off piece by piece. When I pop her bra off, her breasts sway ever so slightly. She gets me so damn hard, and with her pants still on. Her skin begs for kisses. Any and everywhere I can reach. Including tight little nipples that I don’t remember being so pert or responsive.

  She claws at me in the best way, raking manicured nails through my hair and down my back. I can’t help but bite. Camilla groans and shoves her tits deeper into my mouth.

  Oh, holy fuck.

  I grab under her ass and lift her, carrying her easily to my bed. My bed. I’m the luckiest bastard on the planet. When I lay her out, I kiss beneath her bellybutton and the skin is trembling so furiously it vibrates against my lips. I keep my mouth on her as I slip the stilettos from her heels. Damn, am I sad to see them go.

  But I can’t cry over their loss, her skin is a buffet in front of me as I all but yank off her pants. She giggles as her knees knock together. I let them be as I kiss along the length of her pale skin. We’re different this time, a fantasy fulfilled, and everything is heightened because of it.

  “Damn, Lamby.”

  My fingers are attracted to the smoke drifting up her side the way hers had been to my thirteen. It circles just below the crease of her hip then, in the softest wisps, glides up and over her ribs. Just below her chest a tendril curls underneath her perfect breast and another around. A wild twist of white and gray weaves back to her shoulder, tracing and skirting her shoulder blade.

  “Whoa.” I can’t help myself.

  My lips have to trace it too. She lets me for a while, but when my lips go from ink to tit, she begs, “Please, AJ.”

  Please, AJ.

  Good God.

  Yes.

  To anything.

  And with that, I slowly strip until I can nestle naked in between her thighs and start the roll of my hips. We lose ourselves in each other. Repeatedly.

  No one in the history of sex—Hollywood, porn, or otherwise—has ever been as good in bed as Camilla. She’s wild but bends completely to my will. Her hips roll and she can clench all the muscles between her thighs on command. She likes to grip onto me, tightly. Sometimes too tightly. I find myself hoping the angry red scratches from her nails mar my skin like our tattoos so I’ll never forget.

  I make Camilla come three times. I know because she doesn’t have some raucous loud screech fest. She can’t breathe, and her body goes rigid when she loses her voice. She gasps a few times, pleasure mixed with agony and syllables that vaguely resemble my name. Her nails claw into me while her hips jerk against mine. One time she even bites my chest, right above my heart. That’s when I finally let myself go. I come brutally, my vision even blurs along the edges.

  I collapse on top of her and she doesn’t even try to get me to move. When I do roll off her, she simply comes with me. For a little while she’s just tucked in the crook of my shoulder but then she nestles in so deeply, we’re entwined. I hold her all the more tightly until her breathing softens.

  Her raven locks are a silky sheet across her shoulder. The edges kiss the tattoo. I mean to brush them aside, but start playing with them instead as I watch her. The gentle rise and fall of her ribs makes the smoke dance beneath my hand and I let out a deep breath.

  She is perfection.

  Merry Christmas to me.

  “Fuck Em Only We Know” Banks

  The silhouette next to me is finally quiet.

  AJ has been shifting all night. Every so often it woke me and I had to remind myself this wasn’t a dream. The contours of the body next to me were, in fact, the contours of AJ Jenkins. And AJ Jenkins wasn’t just a body, he was the other half of me. If I look close enough, the edge of his shadow is a perfect fit for the hole existing in my soul.

  Well, had been existing.

  Bright sunlight filters in and lights up a chest that only God could have sculpted. Not even CrossFit could be responsible. I have to talk myself out of leaning in and licking him. Not that I think he’d mind much, but I’ve never woken up next to AJ with nothing to do and nowhere to run off to. This calls for something special. Maybe breakfast in bed. Except I can’t make much more than cereal. I giggle at the various memories of charring the pots and pans themselves.

  “What’s funny, Lamb?” AJ reaches for me and pulls me to his chest.

  “Pancakes.”

  “Please don’t burn down my house.” We both laugh while woven around each other.

  I shake my head where I’m tucked into him, wondering why he let me make coffee that first morning.

  “You’d think with the fancy-ass food science school you went to, you’d be able to make something decent.”

  “Coffee.”

  “That coffee…” he laughs. “…was incredible. Any way you’d make some today?”

  “Sure.”

  I’m not ready to get up yet but I find myself wanting nothing more than to make AJ happy. I push away from him and brace for the frigid air. Just before I flip down the comforter, AJ pulls me back. Seamlessly he pins me underneath him and presses his entire insane body to mine. His tongue traces the seam of my lip before he kisses me hard, then licks and nips at me.

  “Kind of hard to make coffee down here,” I whisper beneath him.

  “Good things come to those who wait,” he snatches my lips back up.

  And his erection against my leg is far more exhilarating than a cup of coffee. Everything about AJ is. Sex has never been as good as it is with him. He can read me like a book and surprise me all at once.

  Whether he’s figured out how much I like when he bites my nipples or it’s just a happy coincidence, I’m not sure. When he snatches one up and his big palms come to my ribs, I don’t honestly care.

  Jay always held me by the ribs as if he was trying to keep me together, but now AJ has his way with my tits. Jay and I had sex, but AJ takes me. There’s so much that warms my heart, reminding me of before, but there’s so much new that my toes curl. When I groan and stretch beneath him, I hit a discarded Louboutin and my moan mingles with a giggle. My heart soars, my body feels free with him.

  As soon as I push on his shoulder, he knows what I want and rolls over. All the covers fall away and I’m on display for AJ. He swears under his breath and his eyes go wide. Every inch of my body flushes. His complete and utter want is fuel to this new blazing fire I’ve found.

  I wouldn’t tattoo smoke on my body today. Today I’d get full-fledged red and orange flames that lapped at my bones the way AJ does.

  Without a single hesitation, I slip onto him and my hips begin to roll and glide. My thighs burn and my fingers curl into his pecs. He throws his head back and his hands slide from my hips to the bundle of nerves between my thighs. An absolutely mind-numbing rhythm has me arching back toward his knees.

  AJ’s other hand is everywhere, anywhere, and my skin simultaneously goose bumps and blazes under his touch. The world around me glows in the sunlight filtering through the window. My insides are exactly the same.

  When AJ’s thighs flex and bunch beneath me, I know he’s close. When he circles me deftly, pleasure crashes through me and shoves me over the edge. My voice gets lodged in my throat, and my knees dig into his hip bones as waves churn through me. Waves from an AJ orgasm are so delicious I can only describe them as warm honey. I manage to keep gli
ding up and down on him for a few precious minutes, just long enough for him to shoot into me.

  He comes far louder than me. He groans in such ecstasy that the ripple starts rolling again through my body. His hands claw in, holding me in place as he finishes. A very real heat floods into me as I sit gasping, balanced on top of him.

  For a moment, there is nothing but ragged breathing filling the air. Then the soft whisper of AJ’s hands across my thighs barely breaks the silence.

  My answering smile makes my cheeks hurt. When AJ starts laughing a soft husky laugh, I collapse down onto his chest and let the sound rumble through my bones.

  “Can I just say it?”

  “What?” I twist up to look at him, keeping his cock inside me.

  “One good thing came out of being apart.” He’s smiling every bit as wide as me.

  “Oh? Do tell.”

  “You got way better at that.”

  I laugh lightly and his fingers start to trace along my spine.

  “Unless I’m mistaken, the same can be said of you.”

  Oh good God, could it.

  “You think so?” There’s a positively mischievous smirk curling his lip.

  “Well…” I can’t help but play with him.

  “Oh, I’ll show you.” AJ rakes his hand up my back and weaves into my hair. He unapologetically yanks on my locks and I moan as my mouth is left open and waiting for him. He rolls his hips roughly against me and watches as my face contorts with another purr of pleasure. “Oh hell yes will I show you.” He leans up and locks lips with me.

  He kisses me so roughly that it messes with my senses. I can’t feel my fingers or toes, my lips are on fire and my heartbeat whomps through my ears. Those heartbeats barely mask a woman’s voice.

  A woman’s voice?!?!

  AJ drops his hold on me and lurches up to grab the comforter, colliding into me instead.

  “Hey AJ, I’ve been trying to call,” Trigg hollers from the living room. “I’m so sorry. So unbelievably sorry.”

  We both swear and I twist back and forth when I realize what AJ’s trying to do.

  “No one can find Cam but as soon as we do, I’m going to make it right.” Her voice is just down the hall.

  We’re chest to chest, scrambling, and AJ’s still deep inside me when footsteps reach the door.

  “Oh, shit!” Her stutter step is an exclamation point on her expletive.

  It’s too late, but AJ manages to finally find the edge of the comforter and yanks the fluffy down over me as we both flop back to the mattress.

  “Guess we know where Cam is.” Trigg’s voice is thick with amusement. “Merry Christmas, you two.”

  “Merry Christmas, Trigg,” AJ says exasperatedly. I echo him, my voice completely muffled by pecs and fabric.

  I want to die.

  Mercifully I’m completely covered by the blanket. My smile turns up at the realization that AJ probably did that on purpose, knowing I’d want to kill myself from embarrassment and be desperate to burrow away. The way he remembers these little things make the mind-blowing sex even more special. I can’t help but wiggle a little bit on top of him. His hands fly to my hips as though I’ve tickled him and he’s doing what he can to stop me.

  There is a soft plop and the comforter next to me is suddenly tight against my skin.

  “Found your phone when I was shoveling new snow this morning, Cam.”

  “Thank you,” I say softly, still muffled, still hidden.

  “It was under the bench out front. Stop sitting upside down on things,” she scolds. “Unless AJ’s into that kind of thing.” She’s completely unconcerned that we’re still scandalous beneath the covers.

  “She can sit on things however she wants,” AJ defends me even though I’m pretty sure he’d issued the same warning that first night. I turn and kiss his skin beneath my lips and his hand wanders up my thigh automatically in response.

  “Surprised you don’t want to charge it up and flip it on. There’s got to be a million messages from Seattle on there. You’ve got a business to run, woman.”

  My breath catches. AJ’s hand flinches against my skin. Before this moment, everything has been about us. Can we, or can’t we move from the past to the present? Neither of us has thought to look at the future.

  And like all the times I’ve forgotten to look where I was going, I’ve tripped and smacked into something awful.

  “No One’s Gonna Love You” Band of Horses

  “Are we going to talk about it?” I should keep my mouth shut. Cam’s wearing my flannel as she brews her special coffee. I should shut up and just watch her.

  But I can’t.

  “Of course.” She bites her lip and sinks into my shirt.

  Fuck.

  “But do we have to do it right now? Can’t we…?” she trails off, and it’s more a plea than anything, her voice makes it obvious.

  “So that’s a there’s nothing to talk about then?” My heart shudders and I’m convinced it might give up.

  “No, it’s an I honestly don’t know what to say yet thing. This,” she gestures between us, “is too important to say the wrong thing again.”

  That’s an answer I can accept even if it feels like a dark cloud looming. After all the hope in her voice is a beacon of light. Cam is no longer an evil specter in my life; Camilla is happily stirring cream with a cinnamon stick in my kitchen.

  I wrap my arms around the living, breathing beauty and nuzzle into her wild hair. It smells like a mix of my laundry and coffee. It smells perfect. She leans back into me and I’m treated to the delicious view down her shirt—my shirt—and her sexy as hell breasts are peeking out.

  “Question for you.” I lean in and kiss her exposed shoulder.

  “Okay…” she hesitates as she sprinkles in a little spice and a little sugar.

  “You remember the flannel shirt you stole in high school?” I kiss her again as soon as I ask, convinced that if I mark every inch of her, I’ll get to keep her forever.

  “Of course,” she laughs and switches off the kettle. “I wear it almost every day.”

  “Really?” I automatically pull back to see the look on her face.

  “Yeah, really. It’s one of the most comfortable things I own. I wear it like a favorite hoodie around the house.” She’s smiling this irresistible shy smile like she just admitted something scandalous. “I tried to get rid of it.” Her voice is barely audible over the cascade of water.

  “I tried to get rid of the quilt.”

  Her shy smile spreads and she hands me coffee. I’m pretty sure my smile is just as dopey as hers when I take the mug. I can’t help but purr when I sip it.

  “Come on.” I grab her by the shoulder and the two of us fold into each other as we walk to the living room.

  I plop onto the couch and pull her into me. Just to prove a point, I drag the blanket from over the back and tuck us in. She’s more than happy to lay down against me. And we talk. We talk about bourbon and spices and Scotland. And cedar trees, welding, and animal shelters. When my first cup of coffee is gone, I rub her shoulders.

  We keep talking, though her words are punctuated by light little moans of pleasure. And about my dad no less. I haven’t talked about him in years. But it feels right to share memories with Camilla. She understands on a different level.

  She understands everything on a different level.

  A text chime interrupts our leisurely conversation, and I reach for my phone where it’s shoved in my pocket. My screen is still a solid picture of the mountains. Camilla pushes away from me and tiptoes toward a plug-in I hadn’t noticed.

  She bends over the phone Trigg returned today and I focus on the alabaster curve of her ass where it peeks out from under her new adopted flannel. Another chime cuts through my wayward thoughts. And another. Then a mail tone. And a phone ring. Reality hits me like a boulder. No, whomps on me like a boulder.

  Camilla is slow to turn around and the tension radiating from her shoulders is obvious.r />
  “Mom figured out where I am. Good news travels fast, I guess.” Her voice says this is anything but. “She wants us to come over. She said bring your mom for dinner if you want.”

  She hasn’t turned back toward me yet and I know why. The very question she’d been unable to answer in the kitchen is slapping her in the face from a different angle. Judging by the number of tones that had spliced open our morning, a lot of different angles.

  “Christmas dinner with the Collins,” I say softly. “I’m on call but we’d love to.”

  She turns back around and looks between me and the phone cradled in her delicate hands. With a halfhearted smile, she holds the power button up top then swipes across the screen.

  “It’s Christmas, right?” She shrugs then walks back to me.

  There are a million things I can say, a million things I want to, but they’re already reflected back in her eyes, so I lift the quilt and let her nestle in. I breathe her in and flip on a movie. Macaulay Culkin is the only one speaking in the room and even his punches aren’t landing as hard as the ones reality seems to keep pummeling into me.

  Camilla Collins is a successful entrepreneur that lives half a country way. She owns a home, and a business, and has a life there too. She’d gone off and conquered the world just as she was always meant to. The crazy phone, the sexy fucking stilettos, and the dark raven hair are just reminders that we’re on borrowed time.

  “Can we not do this?” Her voice is quiet and she’s tucked down in my flannel when she comes back to the living room with more coffee, her beautiful eyes are staring intently at me.

  “Do what?” I want to look away so she can’t read me quite as easily but I can’t peel my eyes from her. From what may be one of the last times I get to watch her.

  “Think about the next few days. Think about Seattle. Please?”