Fire in an Amber Sky

by Addison Moore

  Lincoln pokes around the cabin, and we play card games and a board game involving too many pieces that slide around, and eventually I note that we’ve been in the air close to two hours.

  “I thought maybe we were staying West Coast, but now I’m thinking New York,” I say, looking out the window, seeing only clouds as thin as bridal veils.

  “But we’re flying over the Pacific,” he says, pulling me over his lap, his blooming hard-on protruding from him, and I know exactly what game he wants to play next.

  “Oh, I get it.” I moan as if I detest what I’m about to say. “You’re taking me to Alaska.”

  “Why would I take you to Alaska?” He plays along, petting my hair as if it were a kitten sitting on my shoulder.

  “Because everyone knows they’ve got the best brothels, and you’re going to give me fucking lessons.”

  He laughs, tossing back his head, and I watch his Adam’s apple vibrate up his throat. Nothing gives me more pleasure than watching Lincoln laugh. It’s so rare you want to pause and observe it the way you might come across skywriting in progress. You want to wait and see it manifest fully into what it could mean, but regardless, it makes you smile.

  He winces, this time jabbing his fingers into the back of my hair like a fork. “Am I ever going to be allowed inside you again?”

  “Yes. In about a week.”

  “Are you on your period?” His eyes widen a notch as if this might interfere with the fucking lessons he has planned.

  “Nope. That was last week, remember? I gave you a few nights off?”

  “I thought you were punishing me.”

  “Aw.” I stroke my hand over his face and swallow the laugh. “I figured I needed a goal. I can’t be afraid of your horse penis forever.”

  “Your mouth isn’t afraid of it.” He rumbles with that drugged look in his eye, his hardness agreeing against my thigh.

  “No, but my throat shudders once in a while.”

  He gives a dark laugh and pulls me close. “I’d like to send a personal apology to every single part of your body.”

  I nod into him, dazed by the power this man has over me. “There’s nothing like apologizing in person.” I slide down to the floor and work his pants, pulling him out of his boxers with both hands—he’s that heavy. A sigh expels from me, as he grows ever so bigger.

  “Is this safe?” I nod to the front where a door separates us from the flight crew.

  A devilish laugh fireballs through his chest. “This is the safest place on the planet.”

  My mouth finds a home over him, my throat taking him down as far as I can.

  Lincoln falls to the floor and works my dress around my hips, returning the favor as the plane bumps and skips through the air.

  My throat accepts Lincoln’s apologies in thick, salty spurts. I’ve never been one to shy away from a humble admission, or in this case emission. As afraid as I am of his most prized member finding its way between my legs, my mouth seems to have acquired a taste for every last ounce he has to offer—a fact the Old Me would have vomited over. But Old Me didn’t know Lincoln, and how the intensity of his love is a strong tower in the thick of a storm.

  He nestles his mouth over that desperate part of me and launches an assault that leaves my fingers knotted tightly to his scalp. Lincoln is loving me, fucking me with his mouth, his fingers disobeying the golden rule and entering me, pumping through me over and over. That first bite of the spasm is sweetest as I release a heated cry, but his mouth remains unforgiving over that hot tender spot as I try to evict him.

  “Lincoln!” I scream so loud, but it’s like yelling inside a fish bowl. The plane hits a pocket of air, and we bounce, extrapolating the effects of his mouth exponentially. I come with a savageness that leaves my body folding over like a dry heave for the length of several blissful minutes. It feels like hours. Lincoln pulls my dress down, stuffs himself into his jeans, and pulls us into the double recliner as we fall asleep floating through the air, already lost in the best dream.

  * * *

  “Hawaii?” My heart thumps wildly at the prospect of the heated hula dances I’ll be giving him in private. Those explosive kisses he lavishes me with stick with a heavy passion right along with the humidity. I feel like one of those celebrities you read about in People jettisoning away to exotic locales during the off-season while the rest of the plebeians grow sickly and pale as if we’ve been living under a rock. I’m so giddy with this turn of events, I keep stomping my heels in a mini tantrum of delight.

  “Kauai,” he corrects as we race off the tarmac, the hot air clinging to our bodies like a hug, melting the fabric of my dress right over my skin.

  “I just have my purse.” God, I came this close to leaving it at the office. I laugh out loud, delirious to be along for the ride.

  “It’s two in the afternoon their time, so lunch is still a go.”

  Lincoln has a sports car waiting for him, yellow, top down, and we get inside as he whisks us away to a beachfront restaurant in Poipu slightly hidden from the touristy areas that surround us. He garners us a table closest to the pounding surf breaking over the rocks just a few feet ahead. I feel dazed and dizzy. Of course, that would be the jet lag, but my entire body feels effervescent, the way I’ve always imagined love would feel.

  It’s so beautiful here, the air so much sweeter, the ocean that much bluer, and the sky a shade just this side of heaven.

  Lincoln and I order what feels like the entire menu.

  “This is so good, it should be illegal,” I moan, wolfing half of the dishes down without any shame.

  “That’s what I say about you.” His brows rise. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Macy.”

  I blush hard under his admission, a giant ball of rice shifting sloppily to the side of my mouth. If Lincoln is anything, he’s brutally honest, which could only mean one thing. Somehow, someway, I’ve managed to usurp the ever-beloved Jackie, at least when it comes to the face race. If only his heart could beat so hard for mine, I’d have won the entire damn marathon. But the fact she remains some staunch untouchable mystery lets me know I’m not quite at the finish line.

  Lincoln clasps onto my hand as I swallow down my food. “I mean that. You are everything I have ever wanted in a woman.”

  Sheepishly, I run my tongue around my lips in fear a bead of rice might be ruining this moment without me knowing. I try to laugh off his kind words, but it comes out half-hearted.

  “Wow, Hawaii, and a deluge of compliments? You must really miss being inside me,” I tease to add a little levity to the situation. I never did know how to take a compliment.

  Lincoln leans in, taking up both of my hands in his big, warm paws. Deep down, Lincoln is just a playful puppy, a secret I’ll have to take to the grave with me.

  “Sin,” he says it soft, determined. “You have me in ways that I didn’t know were possible. This is just me saying thank you for showing me what I’ve been missing out on—what I almost missed out on with you.”

  Lincoln has torn open his flesh, exposed his beating heart to me, the underpinnings of what makes him tick, bloodied bones and all.

  “I’m glad I didn’t miss out on it either. I think we should send Bradley and Leah a thank you card for stabbing me in the heart.”

  His head tilts until he’s looking at me sideways, his eyes still and beautiful like a tropical turquoise sky.

  “I don’t think the bastard deserves anything from you.” His demeanor darkens. “I don’t like that he chased you out of your home.”

  “I left,” I correct.

  “Have you been back?”

  “No.” I laugh off the idea with repulsion. “Nor is it happening.”

  “He chased you.” Lincoln pulls my hands closer to him, demanding my full attention. “I’ll go back with you.”

  “Oak Valley?” Bringing Lincoln to Oak Valley is the equivalent of taking a Manhattanite to the Ozarks. It shouldn’t be done. “You’ll hate it.”

 
; “As long as you’re with me, I’ll be fine.”

  I cringe. “My mother’s birthday lands on Thanksgiving. Two weeks from now, you in?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it.”

  “Neither will Bradley and Leah.” My appetite wanes, despite the fact I have the world’s best sushi at my fingertips. “I’m suddenly not hungry.”

  Lincoln helps me to my feet and drops a wad of bills onto the table.

  “Then it’s time to find something better to do.”

  By better, Lincoln means everything. He takes us across the street to a surf shop and buys me a teeny weeny white bikini that shows my nipples through the fabric like large coins. He purchases himself a new pair of trunks and hooks us up with fins and masks. We snorkel in the deep Pacific for hours, submerging our bodies into the briny, warm water even as the rain pimples the surface every now and again. Lincoln is patient with me, holding my hand, pointing out each and every cartoon-like fish that scoots by. He dives deep at one point and plucks a lavender starfish off a rock and hands it to me as if it were a flower. Lincoln is sweet and has the heart of a lion just like his name suggests. I can get used to being his princess. I think I already am. A school of silver foil fish, the shape of triangles, swarms around us, and it feels magical, leaving both of us laughing underwater, warm and warbled. He gives a thumbs-up, which lets me know to rise to the surface, and we pull off our masks, the two of us gasping for fresh air. I turn back, and the coast is unimaginably far, and yet with Lincoln next to me, it could be out of sight, and I’d still feel unreasonably safe.

  “It’s time,” he says softly, his legs slowly pulling me in with their heft. I love his bare legs, his manly tree trunks, the muscles, the hair.

  The sun bleeds into the ocean and rolls its poppy-colored tongue over the two of us.

  “I don’t want to leave. This is magic.”

  “It’s not time to leave.” Lincoln holds me up, his strong hands wrapped around my waist, treading water for the two of us so I can relax in his arms. “It’s time for me to tell you something. I wanted to wait until the perfect moment, and this is it.”

  I glance back to the shore and marvel how alone we are. Lincoln isn’t showboating. Whatever it is he’s going to tell me is for my ears only.

  “Let me guess.” I give his bottom a quick squeeze. “In some kinky perverse turnabout, you want me to dye your balls red and call you Ginger in bed?”

  “No.” He recoils with a furious shake of the head. “I know I’ve alluded to this, but I wanted to make it formal.” His lips pull back with a quiet smile. “I love you.” His gaze hooks to mine, the pink veins spraying out over the whites of his eyes only make his cerulean blue glow brighter. “I love you, Macy O’Conner. I love you like I have never loved anybody before.” There is sincerity in his voice that lets me know this is gospel, and I want to weep.

  “I love you, too, Lincoln.” My arms slip around his neck, nearly tunneling us under. “I love you so much. I’ve never believed in soul mates or destinies before, but I do now. I’m so thankful I found you. I don’t know how, but you and I fit. We just do.” I bite down on my lip, frantic with the irony. “Except there.” I glance down, and we both laugh. “But that’s happening. I swear it.” I pull him in until we’re nose-to-nose. “I love you.”

  “I love you, Sin.” His mouth falls over mine, and we sink. We rise and fall with the waves, our love lifting us, holding us, making us buoyant. Lincoln, this beautiful brooding man that has set walls of iron around his heart, is reaching over and pulling me into his world, and I never want to leave. As trite as it seems, it feels as if I’ve been living for Lincoln’s love, and now that I have it, I have fulfilled every last goal in my simple life. It’s the battle cry of every lust-driven thirteen-year-old, but here I hold the reality in my arms. Lincoln Lionheart is in love with me.

  I won that damn race without even trying.

  He was mine all along.

  Lincoln

  We hit L.A. two days later with Macy bouncing right back into my bed. I have this reoccurring fantasy of making her mine once again in the biblical sense, and her pretending it feels wonderful, then whispering into my ear that I have a dick made of steel wool. That’s when it becomes a nightmare. In no way do I want my dick to incite hellish pain to the woman I love. I hit the drugstore and buy the most ingloriously lubed condoms along with a tube of Maestro Glide. This should liven things up and send us into a slipping and sliding sexual catastrophe. I just hope there’s no ER visit at the other end of this unapologetically slick night. Back in the day, it’s what all the frat boys used when they wanted to go back door on their girlfriends. Half of them had nothing but horror stories about the stuff. That’s why I’ve managed to stay away from it all these years. But Macy is so tight, that those few hours I was actually inside her, I wondered if I had it in the right hole. Nonetheless, tonight is going to be great. I’m going to make her mine once again, finally letting out this wild pent-up tension, this intense desire I have to be inside her. It’s not enough letting loose in her mouth. Macy has surprised me with her eagerness to drink me down to the dregs. Now that’s not something your average club whore is willing to do—not that Macy is a club whore, far from it.

  “Hawaii?” Both Stevie and Aspen hover near the door to my office with their matching midnight hair interweaving at the tips. I’m not sure which one said it, but it came out like an accusation.

  “What do you want me to say? Wish you were there?” I close my laptop quiet and stealth as a whisper. The last thing I need them to see is the profile rundown I’m painstakingly doing on our brother.

  Luke Van Der Wolff is the predator his name suggests, and I’m about to land my finger on the exact piece of evidence that proves it. So far, his laptop history shows nothing but coding information. Miles and miles of that shit. What the hell is he coding that requires a dictionary’s worth of binary numbers and letters marrying into a digital nightmare?

  “You didn’t even have the decency to let her pack!” Kinsley comes tiptoeing inside, her hair in a messy bun on top of her head. She drops four lattes onto my desk, and my ego perks because this time one is for me. I glance behind her in the event Luke wants in on this gossip fest. “I shook her down. She said she snuck over to the drugstore and was forced to buy over-the-counter makeup because you dragged her on a plane by the hair.”

  I fold my arms across my chest, mournfully amused at the circus breaking out before me. “She didn’t say that. Sin doesn’t wear a stitch of makeup. Okay, if she does, I don’t notice because I’m too wrapped up on that magic she has happening on the inside.”

  “Sin?” Aspen raises a brow, looking like a mortified nun in the process.

  “I’m sorry—Macy.”

  “Ford flipped a switch when he found out.” Stevie’s eyes are centered on me as if a laser target were sitting on my forehead. Probably is.

  “Carter is out for blood.” Aspen shakes her head. “They knew you were getting close, but a South Pacific kidnapping only infers sex of the most lewd variety.” Her lips twist, unsure of which direction to turn, letting me know that Aspen is both happy and a bit disappointed by this new development.

  For a second, I contemplate filling them in on the fact there was no penetration, but if you want to get technical, I did penetrate an orifice and quite often, polishing off every schoolboy wet dream I’ve ever had.

  “I’m not out for blood.” Kinsley sits at the edge of the desk, her eyes sooted with too much kohl. “Yet. No offense”—she tracks her lazy gaze to Stevie and Aspen—“but can you trust her? I mean, really trust her? She is a Cannon.”

  The room breaks out in groans.

  “I’m leaving now.” Stevie checks out with her middle finger in the air.

  “I didn’t mean it like that!” Kins shouts. “I love Maddie!” But Stevie is already down the hall.

  Aspen gives one of Kinsley’s blonde locks a tug. “You know the great Cannon and Lionheart feud is long over. We staked a flag in the
ir hearts. We won. We own this company and their souls and vice versa. It’s a draw. Trust me, there is no one sweeter than Macy.” She gives me a little wink. “I’m rooting for you.”

  I warm at her words as Aspen leaves the room, the door clicking shut with a light and final clink. Kinsley bats her long lashes at me, the ones she painstakingly glues to her eyelids each and every morning. I’ve seen enough of her spidery discards in the sink to know this is true.

  “I found something out,” she whispers, low, far too serious for Kinsley this early in the day.

  “That you actually have a limit on your credit cards?” She doesn’t, but I don’t like seeing her so somber, vulnerable on some level.

  “I think you’re right. I think this girl is playing us.” Her eyes widen clear as air. “Every time I’m here, she’s headed into Cash Cannon’s office. She’s forever whispering to the meathead Cannon, and yet I rarely see her having a powwow with Ford or Carter. The three of them are up to something. I’d bet my life on it.”

  Kinsley isn’t the most intuitive sister I have, but there’s a seam of heat building inside me that suggests she might be right.

  “Cash has taken her under his wing.” I pause, holding my breath for a moment. “And that right there should be a red flag.”

  “Exactly. Stevie and Aspen may have tamed Ford and Carter, but as far as I’m concerned, the other two still want us out of this oversized litter box.” Her shoulders hunch over as she averts her gaze out the window. Kinsley’s mind is reeling, and I can tell it’s making her uncomfortable.

  “What are you holding back?”

  She tries for a laugh, but misses. “You know me so well.” Her mouth opens, but she can’t seem to push out the words. “The other day, I was in line downstairs grabbing coffee, and one of Pepper’s secretary friends asked about you. She was fascinated by you, and before I knew it, we were sitting together sipping lattes discussing my favorite brother.”