Sunset Heat: Bandicoot Cove 2 Read online

  Freaked out and run away.

  And now here she was, with him again. Thanks to freaking out and running away.

  There was a perverse irony in that fact, but she was too freaked out to analyze it.

  “Are you going to say anything?”

  The rough edge of anger in Luke’s voice scraped against her fraying control. She lifted her chin, meeting his stare.

  Damn, she wished she hadn’t. His gaze was as intense and focused and…and…as sexy as it had been four months ago.

  Her throat grew thick. Her pussy grew tight.

  “You were Rebound Guy.”

  The confession slipped from her before she could stop it. Luke’s eyes widened. His shoulders straightened. So did his spine. He studied her, a muscle twitching in his jaw, his stare unreadable as he opened his mouth to say…

  His cousin chose that exact moment to exit Kennedy’s suite.

  “Got the little bugger.” He stopped at the door, his hands cupped together, his grin wide. “A red-bodied swallowtail, to be pre…” A frown pulled at his forehead. “What did I miss?”

  A dry snort tore from Luke, and he shook his head, stepping back from Kennedy. “Nothing.”

  His cousin obviously didn’t believe him, based on his own snort—this one so close to a laugh Kennedy almost smiled herself.

  Almost.

  But she couldn’t. And not just because of Luke. Because of the creature in his cousin’s hand.

  Oh God, Kennedy. He’s got it. It’s there. Just there in his…

  She flicked her stare to the Brit’s long-fingered hands, still cupped in front of his chest. Inside that prison of palm and fingers was a butterfly. The butterfly that had sent her fleeing.

  Her pulse thumped hard in her neck. She licked her lips, jerking her gaze from his hands, to his face, to Luke’s face and back to the Brit’s hands again. “Can you…will you take it away…?”

  His lips curled. The mirth in his eyes turned to a smoldering interest Kennedy couldn’t miss, no matter how scared she was. “Of course.” He leaned one bent elbow on Luke’s broad shoulder, his hands shifting slightly as he did so. Enough for Kennedy to make out movement behind his fingers. Her heart leapt into her throat.

  And then pounded harder and faster when he said, “For a kiss.”

  Her stare snapped to his face.

  His grin turned languid. Sexy.

  “For us both,” he finished.

  Chapter Two

  Addison watched the woman standing but a few feet away from him respond to his request. He’d asked for a kiss to take her mind off her fear, distract her long enough for her brain to take control of her phobia, but he had to admit to himself, he bloody well did want a kiss. Sodding hell, she was stunning. There was no other word to describe her. No wait, there was. Exquisite. Stunning and exquisite. And sexy. Lord, was she sexy. Confident and sensual even in the face of her greatest fear cupped in his hands. Even the towel he’d given her did nothing but highlight her womanly curves, curves he’d already imprinted on his memory.

  Inside his hands, the red-bodied swallowtail danced around, its delicate wings tickling his palms. If he could, he’d kiss the sodding thing for being so clever as to fly into the American lovely’s suite.

  Of course, a kiss from the American lovely herself was much more preferable. And by the way she was staring at him and Luke, by the very way her nipples had tightened to hard points beneath the towel wrapped around her exquisite, stunning body, a kiss likely wasn’t out of the question.

  And after the kiss…

  You do remember why you’re here, don’t you? Why you up and hightailed it to Australia and Luke’s home instead of being where you’re meant to be? In Egypt filming that documentary on the sand cat? That whole debacle began with just a kiss, remember?

  Addison’s gut clenched—a little—at the unwelcome thought of his last night in Egypt. Still, kissing an American wedding photographer in Australia was very different from kissing an Egyptian zoology student in Egypt, especially when said student was also the president of the country’s only daughter. A daughter who then declared Addison had to marry her or else she’d tell her father everything. Everything. Including where Addison had put his hands, his mouth, his tongue, his—

  “Both of you?”

  The American’s husky voice snapped Addison out of his unsettling thoughts. He grinned, drawing his focus onto the woman before him.

  “Both of—” he began.

  At the exact second Luke said, “Don’t be a bloody—”

  They both stopped. Addison chuckled, holding his cupped hands away from his body in a melodramatic show of chivalry and his power over all things butterfly in the immediate vicinity. “Of course, if you only want to kiss one of us, I am more than—”

  “Fair dinkum, Addison.” Luke glared hard at him. “Give it a rest, will you?”

  “Stop.” The semi-naked American—Kennedy. Her name is Kennedy—with the butterfly phobia held up her hands. “Stop, stop, stop.”

  Addison swung his gaze to her, his grin already in place. He knew the power of his grin. He’d seduced many a woman with its roguish charm. He loved his cousin like a brother, despite the distances between them, but if Kennedy was only going to kiss one of them…then it bloody well was going to be him.

  But they know each other. And there’s something going on here you don’t know about.

  Inside his cupped palms, the red-bodied swallowtail continued its gentle dance, reminding him of its contribution to the situation. Soon he’d walk to the closest flower situated in the resort’s lush garden and release it. If he let the thing go now, Kennedy would likely run away screaming, and he didn’t want that. Addison had seen lepidopterophobia before. If the beautiful butterfly in his hands were to dance on the air anywhere near the American, she would bolt. Or faint. Or scream.

  “She’s not kissing anyone,” Luke snarled, his voice like distant thunder.

  Addison gave him a nudge with his shoulder. “Speak for yourself, convict.”

  Luke pulled a face. “Shut up, Lancaster.”

  The response was exasperated, but Addison knew his cousin well. Luke was just as interested in a kiss from the American as Addison was. Which stirred Addison’s competitive side even more. And there was nothing Addison liked more than a friendly competition with his cousin.

  Don’t you think you should get some backstory first? The way they were looking at each other a moment ago, when you came out of her suite after catching the butterfly…there’s something going on here.

  It was a valid point. Still, Luke had never mentioned her, and if Addison knew one thing about his cousin, it was when a woman got to him, really got to him, Luke told him all about her. Not once had his cousin ever mentioned the name Kennedy. If he had, Addison would step away now. He was a rake. Not a bastard.

  “Is there any chance…?” The American stopped, darting a quick frown at Addison’s hands before returning her gaze to his face. “Is there any chance you can take that…take the butterfly away?”

  “Yes,” Luke said, and Addison was surprised to see a glint appear in his cousin’s eyes that bordered on territorial. “He’s taking the butterfly away now, aren’t you, Addison?”

  “Well, I was thinking of standing here awhile.” Addison chuckled, moving back a step to give Luke a pointed look. “You know, just until I find out how you two know each oth—”

  He tripped.

  Sod it.

  His heel slipped off the edge of the concrete path into the lush garden and he stumbled sideward. Not a lot, but enough to throw his internal equilibrium into chaos, and he flung his arms apart in an effort to regain balance. Of course, what did the red-bodied swallowtail do straight away, but flitter up into the air.

  It danced on the warm humidity in an erratic flight path…and came to rest on the closest surface to it. The creamy swell of flesh that was Kennedy’s towel-constrained left breast.

  Oh, sod it.

  She froze.
Her eyes grew wide. Her face bleached white. She stared at Addison and Luke, her body locked stiff, her chest heaving with panicked, shallow breaths. The butterfly rode each wild crest and fall with slowly pulsing wings, its six tiny barbed feet anchoring it to her flawless skin…for the split second it took before Addison leapt forward and scooped the insect from her breast.

  Barely a heartbeat before Luke scooped Kennedy up in his massive arms as her eyes rolled to white and she fainted.

  “Well caught, cousin.” Addison nodded, unable not to be impressed. He cast the woman tucked against Luke’s arms a look, noting the absolute beauty of her features, the sinful perfection of her long legs and the sublime curve of her buttock, now fully exposed by the towel’s failure to stay cinched around her body. His cock stirred in his trousers. The butterfly beat against his palms. Sodding hell, he sincerely hoped there was nothing going on between Kennedy and Luke.

  Luke fixed him with a pointed look, the muscles in his wide shoulders bunching as he drew Kennedy closer to his equally-as-wide chest. “I think we’ve fucked this situation up as much as we can, Addison.” His voice thrummed with no-nonsense control. “Now take the bloody butterfly away while I take Kennedy inside her suite and try and fix what little dignity we’ve left her.”

  Before Addison could respond, Luke turned and strode back into the now butterfly-less suite, carrying the American with barely an effort. Addison watched his cousin cross the room to the white leather sofa sitting under a framed mirror of the same length, watched his back muscles coil and flex as he slowly lowered the unconscious Kennedy to its cushioned seat and then lower into a kneeling crouch beside her, arranging the towel to cover her naked body.

  He’s a good bloke, Lancaster. A better man than you.

  Luke was a better man. Had always been. A born hero to Addison’s born rake.

  Addison’s stomach knotted. The rake. Hadn’t he decided on the flight to Australia he was going to stop his lothario ways? That it was time to grow up? Hadn’t his bolt from the close call in Egypt ruffled him enough?

  His gaze flicked to the American beauty stretched out on the plush sofa. Her thick honey-blonde hair tumbled about her head in a messy cascade of curls, her long, dark eyelashes brushed high cheekbones, her soft lips were parted, the long column of her neck was perfectly flawless, and the rise and fall of her breasts under the towel made his groin stir.

  No, he was a rake, and as empty and self-loathing as that title was, he’d owned it since the day his balls dropped and his voice broke. He was the rake of the family, and a rake seduced women.

  Even ones connected to your cousin?

  His gut knotted again, an entirely too ambiguous emotion behind its presence. Guilt? Morals? Couldn’t be. He didn’t suffer from either.

  Turning from the sight of his chivalrous, heroic cousin taking Kennedy’s pulse, Addison walked away from the open suite door and deeper into the lush gardens of the resort. As soon as he released the butterfly, he would return to her suite and ask her to lunch. Perhaps offer to walk her around the island pointing out the abundant flora and fauna in an attempt to show her there was little to fear here. If there was one thing Addison knew better than how to seduce women, it was fauna. All he needed to do was find the right tree, with the right bird high in its branches, and he had the perfect reason to draw her face, her body close to his, one hand sliding around her hip as his other smoothed up her ribcage, her arm to her hand, helping her find the bird above, their bodies aligned as he murmured sweet nothings about the feathered marvel.

  Now all he had to do was find a Dutchman’s pipe vine in flower, release the red-bodied swallowtail and get back to the suite before Kennedy revived and whatever history was between her and Luke became an insurmountable obstacle.

  Five minutes later, butterfly released, he approached the American’s suite.

  And stopped two steps from the still open door when he heard moaning.

  Low, throaty moans. Moans made only when one was in the throes of pleasure.

  Looks like their history beat you to it, Addison Ellis Lancaster. Sod it.

  Luke had no idea when he went from counting the unconscious Kennedy’s pulse to kissing her. Perhaps it was when his gaze fell to her lips, his mind remembering just how full and soft they were. Perhaps it was when his brain registered just how warm her flesh was beneath his fingertips as he pressed them to her pulse. Perhaps it was when his body reminded him just how naked and perfect and sensual she was under the towel by growing hard and stiff and bloody rigid when it had no right to do so. Perhaps it was when his mind reminded him how amazing and receptive and wild that naked, perfect, sensual body felt against his.

  Perhaps it was when her eyelids fluttered open and she gazed up at him with clear blue eyes, those soft, full lips of hers parting in a small, shy smile.

  Or perhaps it was when her hand smoothed up his arm, over his shoulder to bury in his hair before tugging his head down to hers and brushing her lips to his.

  Bingo.

  With a groan, and a solid spasm of his inconveniently engorged dick, he parted his lips and slipped his tongue into her mouth. Kennedy moaned, a wholly pleasurable sound he’d heard damn near every night in his fantasies for the last four months. She slid her tongue against his, her fingers tangling in his hair with steady force, her other hand smoothing up his chest to rest over his pounding heart.

  Bolts of liquid tension scored straight through Luke’s body, and he groaned into her mouth. He should stop. He should demand an explanation for her vanishing act four months ago.

  He couldn’t. Sure fingers found his tight nipple through his shirt, tracing it with exquisite pressure, and all thought apart from the basest, most primitive went out the window.

  He growled, the sound vibrating low in his throat, and he plunged his tongue deeper into her mouth, taking possession of that which she’d initiated. A distant, rational part of his mind fought to tell him he shouldn’t be taking advantage of the situation. Hell, she’d fainted not five minutes ago. The rest of his mind told him to feast on her lips, to fuck her mouth with his tongue. To claim her. Mark her. Take her. So she couldn’t vanish again.

  He jerked his fingers from her throat, hooked them in the soft cotton of the towel covering her body and tore it off her, capturing one full, lush breast with a greedy hand.

  She gasped against his mouth, her fist in his hair balling tighter. Shards of wicked pain shot through Luke’s head, the sensation far more pleasurable than he’d expected. As was the beading of her nipple against his palm and the throaty moan she gave him when he dragged his thumb over the puckered tip.

  He sucked hard on her other nipple, loving the way it pebbled more against his tongue. When she dragged her hands from his hair, down his back to his waistline, he didn’t hesitate but shifted his weight, allowing her access to his erection.

  Her fingers tugged at his button, releasing it with a savage pop. A second later, she yanked down his zipper. His cock, engorged and rigid, erupted from his cargos, poking straight up. She wrapped her fingers around it, pumping it with ungentle pressure straight away.

  Oh, Christ.

  The thought groaned through Luke’s head. He suckled with growing need on her breast, kneading the other with fingers a distant part of his fogged mind warned weren’t gentle. The building heat in his dick and balls told him in no uncertain terms he was going to come without much effort. Too many nights fucking his own hand to the memory of her sweet perfection. Too many days wishing he’d known her last name so he could track her down and beg for more.

  Too many hours wondering how a complete stranger could feel so right. So—

  “So when I asked ‘what did I miss?’—” Addison’s voice came from behind him, part chuckle, part growl, “—the real answer was ‘a whole lot of something’, yes?”

  Luke jerked away from Kennedy. Her fingers slipped from his throbbing dick with a scratch of nails, and he let out a raw groan, fumbling for his fly as he struggled to his feet
. Addison watched him from the suite’s open door, one eyebrow cocked, his hands on his hips. “Ado…”

  “I…” Kennedy stammered. “I-I didn’t mean…”

  Luke jerked his stare from his cousin to her face. She was sitting up, her cheeks red, her hands trying—vainly, he couldn’t help but notice—to cover herself with the towel trapped beneath her butt.

  She didn’t mean? She didn’t mean what? To kiss him? For him to take it so far? For any of this to happen? Again?

  A low growl rumbled in his chest. Disgust poured through him in a river of knotted heat. He sucked in a sharp breath, unable to look at her. Fuck, where was his brain? She’d run out on him before, without a single word of farewell, and he was expecting something different now? Just because she was on the other side of the world, it didn’t change the way she behaved.

  Driving his blunt nails into his palms, he let out another growl. “Fuck this.”

  Without another word, Luke stormed from the room, brushing past Addison, his gut churning. He couldn’t be here. Not when he’d been such an idiot.

  “Wait! Please, wait,” he heard Kennedy call out, but he didn’t stop. He charged through the lush gardens of the resort, yanking up his fly as he went. He didn’t know where he was heading, just away.

  You bloody idiot, Luke. She took off on you four months ago without a word and here you are, playing tonsil hockey even though she called you Rebound Guy. Rebound Guy, of all fucking things. Since when have you been such a wanker? You’re here for Aidan’s wedding, for fuck’s sake. You’re the best man. The best man. Do you know what that means? It means you’re the one who’s meant to control the lunacy of the next few days, not contribute to it by bloody well mauling the American who called you fucking Rebound Guy.

  The thought punched him in the gut, cold and sour. Damn it, he knew better than this.

  Of course you do. That doesn’t stop you wanting her, it doesn’t stop your dick growing hard knowing Ado wants her too. And it sure as shit doesn’t stop you thinking about…