Perfect Love

by Addison Moore

  “May I have your daughter’s hand in marriage?” I reel Skyla in close and warm her with my hands.

  “Of course.” She looks perplexed that I’d even ask. “That’s the very reason I brought you to Paragon. She’s the reason your life was spared and returned to you in another time.” She emulates Skyla’s million-watt smile, and every cell in my body rejoices to hear those words I’ve longed for—I want to replay them on a loop, shout them out for the world to hear. Water has come to the desert. I was made for Skyla—for this moment. “For you, Skyla. Consider it a wedding gift.” She plants a kiss on the pendant, and it miraculously appears back around Skyla’s neck, dangling from the chain, right along with my mirrored heart. “Get on with the proceedings.” She nods at Dudley. “I’m anxious to see these two bound in union.”

  That makes two of us.

  “In a moment.” Dudley doesn’t waste time prolonging his misery. Figures. I’d expect nothing less. “My turn to bequeath the bride a gift. Come love.” He takes Skyla by the hand, and they take off behind the bushes. God only knows what lewd and crude gift he’s trying to force on her—probably his tongue. But I can feel Skyla’s sad ache pouring from her hand to mine before she took off with him. She’s feeling it for him whether I like it or not. Dudley burrowed into her heart while I wasn’t looking, just like Gage did. I poured my guts out to Candace about it a few weeks back, and she assured me there was a reason, a season. It was that last part that unnerved me. I wish all of Skyla’s “seasons” were spent with me.

  “Rumor has it there’s a wedding here tonight,” a male voice quakes through the night, and I turn to find Nathan Messenger—Skyla’s father.

  “You’re here.” I swell with relief. It wouldn’t have felt official without him, not to me and, for sure, not to Skyla. “May I have your daughter’s hand in marriage?”

  “Are you kidding?” He slaps me over the back. “For you, I’ll throw in the rest of her.” He offers a warm embrace, and I take it. I have no memory of my own father ever holding me like this, and, if anything, Nathan feels like a close second. As much as I love Barron and appreciate him raising me, it never felt quite like this. Something about Nathan has always felt like family. He felt like my dad.

  Dudley and Skyla emerge from behind the juniper bush, and my heart bottoms out at her sheer beauty.

  Holy mother of God. Skyla Messenger never looked so stunning. Her hair is swept back. She’s wearing a luminescent gown that looks as if it’s been ripped right off a Greek goddess. Skyla shimmers with joy as she makes her way to me. She’s trembling. Her breathing is fast and loose, and she exudes an unstoppable joy, all for me.

  She cuts her gaze across to her father.

  “Dad!” Skyla lunges at him with a hug, nearly knocking the two of them right off the ledge.

  He plants a kiss on the top of her head. “Do you want this, Skyla?”

  “With everything in me,” she pants through a smile.

  “Then I gift you my blessing.” He lands another kiss over her forehead and walks Skyla to my side.

  Now I’m the one who’s trembling. My breathing barrels way past fast and loose, and my joy skyrockets straight to the throne of God. This is it. This is the moment I’ve waited for.

  Nathan smiles in my direction before releasing Skyla to me like a chain of love. She’s mine now if only for a little while. I pull her in close, careful as blown glass.

  “Skyla, Logan?” Dudley bows into the two of us before glancing back at Candace. She gives the slight trace of a nod, and it feels as if the floodgates of Heaven just opened. “Would the two of you be willing to share this life and all of its riches, all of its grievances until the good Lord sees fit to sever the cord and call one of you home to paradise?” That person being me, but right now I’m all about the present.

  “Yes.” I galvanize my gaze over Skyla. “It would be an honor.” More than an honor. It’s a fucking privilege.

  “And, Skyla?” Dudley frowns into her, but she’s too lost in the moment to notice. “Do you desire Logan to be your husband?” He sneers as if repulsed by the idea, and no doubt he is.

  She gives my hands a quick squeeze that says yes before her lips ever do. Skyla is already lost in a sea of what’s to come. I can see the sheets burning in her eyes, plain as day, and it’s my body raking over hers that’s causing those flames. She’s three steps ahead of the game, but, then, she always has been, and so have I. This is the moment we’ve waited for—longed for—our hearts finally beating as one.

  “I do.” Her words swim out like a dream into the night, and I can hardly believe I’m here to witness the event, let alone live it—mostly.

  Dudley lets out a dull roar as if he were about to morph into a dragon and eviscerate me for the hell of it. I’m pretty sure he hasn’t taken it off the table just yet.

  “You may now loosely embrace the bride,” he grunts it out as if he were in pain. I hope his balls ache from the effort.

  “Sector?” Candace all but stomps on his shoe.

  “Very well.” Dudley holds his hands out toward us, and the world, Paragon, begins to warp like a dream.

  You’ll owe me in spades until kingdom come, Oliver. Dudley’s voice curls in my subconscious. Mark my words, you’ll be kissing my feet sooner than later. Appreciate this brief morsel. She’s your wife—but only for now.

  Just a few hours ago I was imagining myself stone cold in a casket, and yet here I am with a renewed lease on life, if only for a little while.

  “Kiss the bride,” Dudley says it soft as a faraway echo just as we disappear.

  4

  All through the Night

  A candlelit room appears, wide and gaping. The air is scented with a hint of fire and roses as the flames flash over the walls like a reflex.

  I’m soaking wet from the chest down with Skyla lying on top of me in an oversized bathtub—an entire warm ocean just for the two of us. We’re still in our clothes, me in my Levis and her in a crisp, white gown that has effectively been reduced to vellum, nothing but wax paper that glows with the color of her skin underneath. Her fingers are knotted my hair. Her sweet head rests over my chest, and I don’t want to move or breathe—just soak in the magic of the moment.

  Rose petals float in our wake, but I can’t seem to take my eyes off my glittering bride. Her skin gives the sweet smell of perfume mixing with that natural scent of cinnamon her body manufactures, and my dick roars to life like an engine.

  Skyla gives a triumphant smile as she lifts out of the water just enough to take in the gargantuan bathroom. An oversized window sits to our left, and we gaze out at the midnight world together. A wash of grey sweeps over the landscape, soft white lights bleed out their beams, creating a halo over everything they touch.

  “Where are we?” she whispers, wrapping her arms around me as if she were grounding herself to an anchor. I dig my fingers into her hips. If this is a dream, like I’m afraid it is, she might float away, and I’ll have to peel her off the ceiling.

  I lean over her shoulder to take in the view a little better. The streets are all but deserted for the night. And from this bird’s eye view, the winking city lights flirt with the night. I’m guessing we’re four stories high judging by the size of those trees surrounding the base of the hotel. Then I see it. Across the street, lit up like a lamp, is the very place Skyla and I visited on one particular light drive—the Colosseum. My stomach thumps like a heartbeat at the sight of it.

  “We’re in Rome, Skyla.” I point over to it, and I can feel her mood plummet just a bit as she relives the memories from that ill-fated night. I can see it playing out in her mind like a bad movie reel. Skyla and I birthed a carnage that would echo through time and eventually cost us more than we could ever understand. It was all my shit-brained idea that landed us in the mess. It usually is when trouble is on the horizon, so neither of us should be too surprised at what it might cost us.

  She tilts her head as if the overgrown theater amused her. It stamps acro
ss the landscape like a brown stone moon that fell to the planet long ago and no one really cared about.

  A smile tugs at my lips. I love listening in on Skyla’s thoughts. She’s become a master of holding them back just like Gage—just like me, but when she lets one slip through the cracks, I always appreciate it. I hope she lets them slip tonight because I want all of her. As much as my body wants to thrust inside her, my brain wants in on the action, too. I’ve dreamed of making love to Skyla, of the magic it could be with our bodies and synapses firing in tune. We could set the whole damn world on fire with our bodies, our minds, our hearts. We’ve always been a powerhouse in the making, and tonight would prove it.

  “Rome,” she whispers it, fresh as a dream. This is exactly where I told Logan I wanted to spend our honeymoon one day. “Thank you.” She sweeps her hand over my chest and lands those glowing blue eyes over mine—twin pools, deep with affection just for me. “I believe you owe me a kiss.”

  And here we are—at what will forever be known as my favorite moment in time. I can’t hold back the smile that’s been dying to take over, one second longer, as I pull her close to me—her mouth a breath away from mine.

  This is bliss.

  When the fire of my life dies down, somewhere in the dust and cinder, in the aftermath of who I would soon become, this beautiful memory will live forever.

  “I believe you owe me a kiss.” I don’t wait for a rebuttal or a single thought to cross either of our minds. Instead, I lean in and sweep my lips over hers. Skyla crashes over me and detonates like a powder keg. Pure kisses. Eternal kisses. Kisses approved and ordained by God, himself, and not a soul in the world can contest our efforts. For a moment I doubted we were possible—like an ocean over the sky. But this is our time, Skyla and me.

  In one clean sweep, I pull us both out of the water and stand Skyla next to me, just taking in her beauty in the way you would a sacred statue from some fragile long-forgotten century. She outshines the moonlight streaming in as if she had swallowed the stars. The room loses all color and form, overpowered by her ecclesiastic grace. The candles flicker in her presence as if they, too, are venerating her beauty. My eyes never leave hers as I run my hands over her waist, slow and determined, down her perfect thighs before pulling the dress right off her body. Here she is, in her lace bra and panties—a masterpiece right off the lingerie runway. One of my first memories of Skyla is of her dressed like this. We swam at the Falls of Virtue when everything was still new and I hadn’t had the time to fuck a single thing up between us. We shared kisses that afternoon that testified that we would make it someday, and here we are, ready to prove ourselves right.

  I sweep my eyes down the river of her curves. Hot damn.

  Skyla is a testament to the female anatomy. Hers is a physical perfection that borders on insanity.

  My eyes move over her, slow and intrusive. It takes great effort not to let her into my thoughts. Every part of me wants to cave into Skyla tonight. I swipe a towel from the counter and lay it over her shoulders, drying the water that’s beading down her body in long, seductive trails. Her flesh shivers, her breathing picks up pace. The slight trace of fear mixed with excitement blooms in her eyes.

  I take a step into her until the heat from my body engulfs her like a flame.

  “I love you more than the heavens love the sun and the moon, Skyla.” I crash my lips to hers and pour all of my love into that one lingual exchange. This is it. Our honeymoon. It has all come full circle from that first moment I set eyes on her in the bowling alley. She’s finally mine, for a short breath of time, and I’m determined to enjoy it—to savor it for all eternity. I’m determined to make every heartbeat stretch to the length of a thousand years. Tonight there are bodies to be explored, hers and mine. It’s as if the universe is breaking all of the rules for us tonight, God, himself, is bending his will to allow this miracle to happen, and in no way will I allow a second to drift by without pouring out my affection for her.

  I take Skyla into my arms and carry her into the overgrown bedroom with enough candles lit on the periphery to rival the sun. Every flicker of the flames feels like the flash of a camera. The celestial paparazzi have shown up in droves to document the marvel of our love. A four-poster bed lies in the center of the room covered with rose petals, and I tuck a wry smile in my cheek at the thought of Dudley putting together the finishing touches. He was right. I’ll owe his twisted Sector ass for this one.

  The petals give off a strong, lush scent—far better than any damn flower on earth could ever smell. I inhale deeply, ingraining the scent into my memory. If I could encapsulate my love for Skyla in a single fragrance, this would be it, aloe and vanilla, a hint of something sweet layered just beneath.

  “Beautiful,” she pants out the word as her gaze travels around the room. Her eyes snag on the candles, their roiling flames winking in and out of turn. They drip their wax like rivers rushing down the waxen pillars, driving home the point that everything is ephemeral. It all ends. And with that piece-of-shit knowledge, the weight of the future presses down over this room—my heart—and it takes a bionic effort to chase it away.

  “You are beautiful.” I push the words past the knot forming in my throat. My gaze never leaves her. I need to focus on Skyla, on the fact that my dick has hardened to stone in her honor, and, for once, it might actually get some relief from the object of its desire.

  I refuse to give in to the looming phantom that death has become. Instead, my heart explodes with my love for Skyla and chases any shadow of the afterlife away. I lay her over the bed and land a sea of sweet kisses over her cheeks, her nose, her perfect, swollen lips. I want to kiss every inch of Skyla tonight, and I plan to.

  She leans up and glances over at the nightstand at a basket filled with foil packets.

  Looks like Dudley was up on every last detail.

  “A bowlful of condoms.” She gives a sly smile. Skyla doesn’t seem to be nervous in the least, and I’m glad. I don’t want her to be. I wish I wasn’t.

  “Dudley’s an extremist.”

  “I think he’s a realist.” She darts her pale eyes to mine, and I bury a laugh in my chest. I, for damn sure, like where she’s going with this. Skyla leans in, scouting for another kiss, but I take my time grazing over her cheek with my mouth the way I sometimes do with an apple, taking in its hypnotic scent before I take that first, lush bite.

  My lips smooth over hers soft as air before I bounce my tongue along her teeth. My mouth finds hers, and I kiss her with the intensity and passion that this interval of time deserves. My tongue slides over hers, slow at first, then hungry, unable to satisfy itself. The more we kiss the more I need to. This is an insatiable desire. My tongue is a flame and Skyla the gasoline. I needed her. I can’t exist without her.

  Skyla gives a soft moan, and I lose it. This is the moment, these are the memories I want us both to remember for the rest of our eternal lives. I want Skyla to hold every other kiss she receives in her life up to this one. I want to set the bar so damn high there’s no way in hell Gage or Dudley could ever come close to loving her the way I do.

  Her body trembles beneath mine as her kisses become rabid and primal. Skyla is starving for what’s to come, and the best feeling of all is knowing she wants this, craves it just as bad as I do.

  Her hands glide up my chest in a fever. She works my shirt up until I pull it off. Her fingers float over my bare flesh like hot coals raking over my damp body.

  A wicked grin plays on my lips as I gaze down at her for a moment. A warrior pinning his prey, my ego wants to own it, but I know better. I belonged to her. Skyla is setting the rules, creating the pathways in this new world. I’m her sexual soldier ready to serve. The plaything chosen by the queen. She could put me on a leash. Skyla owns me in the worst way.

  This is it. Only a few articles of clothing separate us from one another. We’re right there at the threshold of consummating something so perfect and right.

  I bury a sea of kisses in her
neck before running my tongue down her chest in one smooth track. I peck over her skin all the way back to her perfect mouth, heavy as snow, and land my lips over hers. My chest pumps a million miles a minute with enough adrenaline coursing through my veins to get me to the moon and back. Every heartbeat detonates like its own orgasm—explosion after erotic explosion.

  I thought I could handle being with Skyla—that I would be the calm one, and here I am, shaking, trembling for her touch as much as she is for mine. My dick groans stretching to its limit, my balls grind, begging to be a part of this epic undertaking that lies before us.

  Our mouths, our bodies begin to fuse as wild flames of lust fan around the room, ready to devour us far too soon if we’re not careful. Skyla has the ability to make me come without too much more effort on her part.

  Her fingers dip into my jeans, and I don’t stop her. Instead I reward her with a heated kiss in the soft skin of her neck as she bubbles with a dark laugh. I run my hands over her curves, slow and heated, until I feel her shudder beneath me. Her torso rises to meet with mine. Skyla leans up with the curve of a dangerous smile as she reaches back to unhook her bra. I would have done the honor. I just didn’t want to come across as greedy. But God knows I’m greedy as hell, and I plan on being just that for the entire time we’re in this beautiful bed. Her tits spring out like a pair of happy-to-see-me oranges, and I’m more than fucking pleased to see how well-endowed Skyla is. I knew she was perfect, but this is a breathtaking beauty that I could never have imagined. I would have loved her if she were flat as a board. But now all my mind can think of was new ways to fuck her. I can’t help it though. That overtly male part of me has taken over. My brain made some piss-poor decisions in the past, but and tonight my dick is hell bent on making some great ones.