Skies that Burn (Kings of Airlie #3)

1. Travis

Perth, Western Australia

I curl my fingers around Luca's shaft, warm and throbbing to the touch. "Fuck, I love your cock."

He stretches his muscular legs out on the bed, hooks his arms behind his head of dark, curly hair, and grins. "That's an improvement."

"An improvement on what?"

His dick pulses in my hand.

"On what you said the first time you saw it."

Cue the eye roll.

I was being dumb. On purpose. Like I am ninety-nine point nine nine nine percent of the time.

Luca just didn't know that then.

"You said it was black," he says with a smirk, knowing full well I don't need the reminder of what I'd said.

"You're Brazilian. It is black," I counter. "I was merely stating a fact. Not my fault you took it the wrong way."

"That's right. You're an, how do you say it, equal opportunity root?"

"Correct."

I smile, enjoying how he enunciates root—and uses it in the truly Aussie way to mean a fuck—in his Brazilian accent.

I've developed somewhat of a reputation for rooting around, for sticking my cock into anything that moves, especially after a sex tape featuring yours truly was stolen and leaked online. While that may have been true when I was younger, it's not the case now.

And it's most definitely not the case when I'm with Luca. Even if, over the past five years, we've been on and off more times than a fucking light switch.

Because contrary to my fuckboy reputation, whenever Luca and I are together, I'm one hundred percent his.

The king of monogamy.

The entire Australian rugby team could whip off their shorts, bend over, and expose their furry pink holes, and I'd only look with my eyes.

"What are you thinking about?" Luca's voice cuts into my thoughts.

"The entire Australian rugby team showing me their butt holes," I reply, because, unlike most humans, I was born without a filter.

He raises a thick brow. "All of them?"

"Hey, I'm an equal opportunity root, remember?"

He chuckles. "How could I forget?"

I tighten my grip around the base of his thick black cock and start fisting it harder.

His exquisite brown torso contrasts against the pearl-white Egyptian cotton sheet, and a thick mop of messy curls frames his angular face and brown eyes.

He's the most beautiful man I've ever laid eyes on.

He bites into his lower lip.

"You like this?"

It's a redundant question.

I know Luca better than he knows himself, which isn't always a good thing. But I'm not getting sidetracked by that messy shit right now.

"I do."

His fingers drift to his nipples, and he starts playing with them, pinching and twisting them just the way he likes.

His eyelids flutter closed.

I keep jacking him off, drawing on years of knowing his body intimately, adjusting my strokes and speed and pressure to just how I know he likes it.

He's getting close, so I ease off and glide my thumb under his foreskin, using his pre-come to explore one of the most sensitive parts of his body.

I wouldn't know since I'm cut, but Luca describes it as pleasure that is out of this world.

There's nothing I love more than making him feel good.

He opens his eyes.

Leaning in, I lock lips with him.

I roll from my stomach onto my side. He unhooks his hands from behind his head and angles himself so he can jerk me off at the same time, tugging on my cock roughly.

Pleasure sizzles through my body.

He throws his head back, thrusting his hips into the air. "Oh, Jesus."

I take full control of his cock, speeding up my strokes.

That does it.

Luca's body rocks and spasms as my hand gets drenched in his warm release. He exhales a deep, satisfied growl then collapses his full body weight onto the bed.

I watch his chest heave, his abs flexing, as he breathes in deeply through his nose and out through his mouth.

It takes him a few moments to recover.

If you'd ever have told me that this—jacking someone off—would become my favorite sex act in the world, I would've laughed in your face and called you a dipshit.

But I guess the joke's on me because it is. Life, eh? It just loves to throw random shit in your face.

Luca eventually makes a move to get up then stops. "Did you want to…?"

"Nah. I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. Later, though?"

"Definitely."

There's a knock on the door.

"What the fuck?" I grumble, getting off the bed and looking for my boardies. "We hung up the Do Not Disturb sign, didn't we?"

"Of course. It's the first thing we do whenever we check in anywhere."

"Exactly." I still can't find my boardies anywhere. Where did I chuck them off? "You go clean up, I'll go give this inconsiderate shithead a piece of my mind."

Luca heads for the bathroom while I swoop down and grab my boardies poking out from under the bed and slide them up my legs, not bothering to tie the drawstring. If someone is interrupting my Do Not Disturb time, they can deal with a bit of ass crack. That's the rule.

I march over to the door and swing it wide open, fully prepared to give whoever is standing on the other side a piece of my mind, except…there's no one here.

I look up and down the corridor.

No one there, either.

Maybe someone accidentally knocked on the wrong door? Too bad for them. They're missing out on one fantastic plumber's crack.

I'm about to go back inside when I look down and notice an envelope on the floor. I scoop it up, kick the door shut, and tear the envelope open, producing a blue piece of paper.

It's a handwritten note.

I start reading it and freeze on the spot.

"Who was that at the d— What's wrong, Travis?"

I drown Luca's question out, my eyes racing over the words written by someone with freakishly neat penmanship.

Luca comes up behind me and slides his hands delicately around my waist.

He says nothing until I finish reading, then murmurs into my shoulder, "What is it?"

"Here." I hand him the piece of paper then pace over to the sliding door overlooking the ocean, trying to process my mother's letter.

But I can't.

I sag against the wall as everything from this entire season flashes before my eyes.

Our shenanigans at the opening round of the tournament.

Terry's shock elimination in the quarterfinals.

Troy getting disqualified at the semis… On purpose.

Yeah, he may have fooled the world into thinking it was an unfortunate accident, one of only a few times a competitor has been disqualified in the history of the sport for a relatively minor and largely unknown rule break, but I know better. He totally threw away his chance of winning a third title.

For me.

That's not something I'll ever forget. Or let go to waste.

I have to win this season. Now more than ever.

And then there was all the drama in the Philippines.

Although, the word drama doesn't really feel like it does what went down there justice, because it was drama on fucking steroids to the power of a million.

Uncle Tim is dead.

I know you shouldn't speak badly of the departed, but fuck that, and fuck him.

I'm glad that sonofabitch is dead, and I hope his last moments on this earth were agonizing and brutal. After what he did to Troy, he deserved nothing but the worst. He was a monster.

Haven't had the chance to unpack any of that, either.

My only goal was to get Kaide out of jail, and once that was done, Luca and I flew to Brazil. One of his aunties had died, so we attended her funeral.

Because, yeah, when it rains, it fucking pours. Welcome to my life.

Luca was so-so close with his aunt, so he seemed to handle the funeral okay. But he's fragile, and I've learned the hard way that almost anything can set him off again. I'm keeping a closer eye on him than usual.

I'm still unclear about where we stand, if we're officially back together or not, or whether I went back with him to Brazil as his emotional support animal.

And honestly, there are days when I just want to walk away from it all.

The noise.

The cameras.

The competition.

The scrutiny.

The people.

The intrusion of it all.

But then I remember why I'm doing it, how close I am to achieving the Big Dream, and I put on my big boy pants, grit my teeth, and deal with whatever crap gets slung my way. There'll be plenty of time to live a normal life…later.

I sense Luca standing near me. How long has he been there?

"I can't believe it," he says, staring straight ahead at the ocean. The swell's up, and it's a bit choppy today.

I rest my forehead against the cool glass. "Tell me about it."

He comes closer, pulling me into a side hug. "I'm here for you."

"Thank you."

It's not often in our on-again, off-again relationship that I've been the one who needs to rely on him for strength and support, but I can't lie, the contents of Mom's letter, the Uncle Tim chaos, not to mention the shitshow season this year, are starting to take their toll on me.

But I have to put on a brave face. I have to guide Terry and Troy through these choppy waters.

I'm the oldest. That's my job.

"What are you going to do?"

"The only thing to do." I bang my head lightly against the glass a few times. "I'm going to call an emergency family meeting."

Luca leaves, and when he returns a moment later, he slips my phone into my hand.

My brothers and their partners are staying at the same hotel, so once I fire off texts summoning them to our room, there's a knock on the door a few short minutes later.

I open it, still in boardies, still possibly exposing my crack, and unable to muster up the required two shits to give about it.

"Come in," I say, holding the door open as Troy, Kaide, Terry, and Richie shuffle into the room.

Luca's standing there, which is awkward enough in and of itself since I haven't told anyone we're possibly, kinda, sorta, maybe back together again.

Despite the world having seen me naked on multiple occasions—the illegally leaked sex tape five years ago, the tape of me fucking a mango I released on purpose last year, the opening round of this season where my best-laid plans got slightly waylaid—I don't share a lot about my actual love life with anyone.

Including my brothers.

Because it's complicated. On fucking steroids. To the power of a million.

"What's going on, Trav?" Troy asks.

"Someone delivered this note." I scoop the blue piece of paper off the table where Luca left it. "It's a message. From Mom."

Terry steps in closer. "Saying?"

"Here. Read it for yourself."

I pass the letter to Terry, but Troy snatches it away. "Terry can't read," he jokes.

"Hey, fuck off."

Terry slaps Troy.

"Guys," I snap, because the poor bastards have no idea of the ginormous, life-changing clusterfuck they're about to get whacked over the head with. "Stop fooling around. This is serious. Read the fucking note, Troy."

As he starts reading it, I throw in, "It was addressed to all of us, but I didn't think anything of it. So I opened it. Had I known, I would've waited."

"Read it out loud," Terry demands, giving Troy another impatient slap.

"Okay, um. Jesus. For starters, Mom's in Abu Dhabi."

Terry and Richie both frown in confusion, while Kaide gently bobs his head, as if he understands something the rest of us are missing. Given his background in security and policing, that might very well be the case.

Troy resumes reading the note, silently again. His eyes go wide. "Oh my god."

"What? What is it?" Terry scratches his arm, like it's killing him not knowing what's going on.

Troy looks up and announces, "She killed Tim."

Terry starts visibly shaking, so Richie embraces him in a hug, running his hands up and down his back.

I give myself exactly two-point-four seconds to adjust to seeing my best friend step up and be my baby brother's boyfriend at a time when he needs him before shifting my gaze to Kaide, who's now become my other brother's boyfriend after being assigned as a bodyguard to protect him from a crazy stalker.

I'm happy for all four of them, but if Hallmark ever decides to pivot and go full-on gay and spicy, they should give me a call. I've got a few storylines I could supply them with.

"Did you know?" I ask, turning to Kaide, wanting to confirm my suspicion that he's piecing something together in his mind.

He nods. "Yeah. I, um, saw her at the hotel after it had been done."

"Would've been nice if you'd shared that handy little piece of information with me before I paid two hundred grand to get you out of jail."

His mouth gapes open. "Why on earth did you do that?"

"Had to get you out of there, mate," I reply matter-of-factly. "You're family. We protect each other."

"I'm innocent," he says. "I would've gotten released anyway."

"We needed you out of there and fast. Besides, you can't blame me for thinking you had done it. Fuck knows you had motive given everything Tim's done—" I stop myself. There's no need to recap any of Tim's many, many lowlights.

Kaide gets up, walks over to me, and gives me a hug. "Just so you know," he whispers into my ear. "I'm going to pay you back every last bloody cent."

"Don't worry about it," I mutter back, knowing full well he will because that's the kind of man he is. Decent to the fucking core, and I'll do everything in my power to make sure my numbskull brother never forgets that.

A gasp from Troy directs my attention back to said numbskull brother. He's been silent for a while, so I assume he's read about the drug-induced state Tim kept Mom in for all those years.

What sort of cruel, twisted, demented person does something like that? He's robbed her of decades of her life, time she'll never recoup, and he took our mother away from us. The sick bastard.

Have I mentioned I'm glad he's dead?

"No fucking way…" Troy mutters.

I know the part he's gotten to. I can see it in his eyes. I go over and take the letter back from him.

Terry steps away from Richie and comes closer to us. "What? What is it?"

Troy and I stare at each other, sharing a shocked silence now that we're armed with the full truth.

Terry angles his head, glancing down at the letter dangling from my fingers. "What is it?" he repeats more impatiently this time. "What else does it say?"

Troy makes a face. "It's about the DNA test Mom requested when she filed for divorce."

"D-did she get the results?" Terry asks.

He starts trembling again, but before I can do anything, once again Richie swoops in and is by his side, holding him. Reassuring him. Loving him…all without saying a word.

"Yeah." I dip my head before lifting it and looking Terry right in the eye. "And mate, you are never going to believe this…"

"Well tell me, for fuck's sake! Stop dragging it out," he yells.

Of all the bullshit that swirls around us, the DNA rumors have always been the one thing that hurts the most, cuts the deepest into the thick skin we've had to grow.

"It's not what you're probably thinking," I say, my gaze locked on his worried blue eyes. "You are and will always be our brother. What Mom alleges in the letter is that at the same time she had you, another woman gave birth to…Dad's other kid."

"I…I don't understand."

Richie rubs his back. "Travis is saying your dad had sex with another woman. That encounter produced a child, which would make that child your half brother or sister. They would have been born around the same time you were."

He's always been so good with Terry, able to work around his dyslexia in a way I try to, but never feel I do well enough. He has a knack of explaining things in a different way, whereas I struggle to do that.

"Oh." Terry nods a few times, Richie's words settling over him. "Ohhhh."

"Yeah. There's some other stuff in there, too, about Mom, but I think that's enough bombshells for now," I tell him.

"Wow." Terry moves on to another monosyllabic word. "Fuck. All this time we thought…"

He doesn't need to say anymore because we all know what he means. That Mom had an affair with Tim and that he was Terry's biological father.

But after reading Mom's side of the story, all the clues that ignited that rumor make sense in a whole new way.

Why she had a huge falling out with Tim.

How he drugged her to make her seem disinterested in her own kids after Terry was born.

Dad's complete lack of interest in Terry, even less interest than he has in Troy, which is really saying something since he's barely given Troy a fraction of the attention he's given me.

All of that isn't because Mom cheated and had a kid who wasn't Dad's—it's because Dad cheated.

I already know it's true. I caught him fucking other women on three sperate occasions. Who knows how many other times he committed adultery when he wasn't caught?

I shudder to think about it.

I confronted him once. Told him what he was doing was wrong. That he should stop. That it wasn't fair to Mom.

Know what he said?

He smiled creepily, scratched his balls, and said that rules like that don’t apply to people like him. Then, as his smile grew creepier, he looked at me and said, "People like us."

Say what you want about me, but the closer to thirty I get, the more I realize I am nothing like my father.

And I am perfectly okay with that. I've been under his thumb for way too long. That's all going to change.

"So what happens next?" Richie asks.

As usual, all eyes land on me.

I run my hand through my hair while I think.

We need to regroup, and we need to tread really fucking carefully here. We've done some very dodgy, very illegal things. Even by our own messed-up standards.

"Word of Tim's death hasn't broken, so as far as that issue goes, we carry on as if we know nothing about it," I say.

"And when it comes up?" Troy asks.

"We'll deal with it then."

He nods, then Terry asks, "Does anyone know where Dad is?" When no one answers, he says, "We should check in on him, make sure he's okay."

I roll my eyes. "Let me place an order for a care package."

Am I being heartless? I mean, the man did lose his brother.

Yeah, too right I am.

And you know what? I don't give a shit. Not after everything our beloved father has inflicted on this family.

On me.

But I won't allow myself to get sidetracked by decades of undealt-with trauma, so I resume planning our next steps out loud.

"We don't know when the story about Tim will break, but we have to assume it will. And fairly soon. I'll think about that and come up with something. In the meantime, I've got a round to compete in tomorrow, and we have some filming commitments after that." I glance over at Richie. "You know the network wants you in the show."

His shoulders droop. "I know."

"Mate, it sucks, and under normal circumstances, I wouldn't ask this of you. I know how much you value your privacy. But if you could do just a few scenes, it'd get them off our backs and really help us out."

"Of course," he says, because he's family, and when families are down, they pull together. "Of course I'll do it."

Terry grips his hand and whispers, "Thank you," to him.

"Troy, you're contractually obligated to hang around as well even though you're out of the competition."

Something he and I will need to address privately at some stage.

"I'm aware," he grumbles, but his usual rage isn't there. He's probably still shell-shocked from Mom's letter.

I think we all are.

"Kaide, what about you? Are you sticking around?"

"I, um, yeah. I guess so. Even though I'm not needed in any official capacity, I don't think this one's getting rid of me anytime soon."

"I'm not," Troy replies, and the two of them share a loving smile.

"Finally. How many years has it taken?"

Troy glances back at me and smirks. "Only a couple more years than you and Luca. What's going on with you guys, anyway?"

I turn to Luca, prop my hands on my hips, and bat my eyelashes. "Yes, honey. What is going on with us?"