Misplaced Hands: 4 (Foreign Affairs) Page 5

  But the Harper in the back now, the one who looked sweet and innocent and very feminine…

  Christ, his dick was so damn hard it was a wonder there was any blood left in his brain to drive.

  When was the last time he’d been turned on by a sweet, innocent anything?

  He flicked a look at Marc, who sat beside the American. The wind tugged at his shirt, giving Keith flashes of the tattoo on Marc’s chest. He’d been with the stupid bastard when Marc had gotten the tat. Paid for it, in fact, when Marc realized he’d left his wallet back at Cobar’s main pub.

  It seemed Thomo was just as taken by Harper Shaw as Keith was.

  The idea made his already throbbing cock throb harder.

  He didn’t allow himself to think too much about that. In fact, he’d refused to think about Harper and her effect on his body since he’d kissed her.

  Okay, that was bullshit. He’d jerked off the last couple nights to the thought of that kiss, keeping his actions clandestine. Thomo slept in the room next to his. The walls of the hired hands’ houses weren’t exactly soundproof and Keith didn’t want his mate, or the two new young jackaroos in the room on his other side, to hear him.

  He didn’t consider himself the kind of man who took pleasure in the body of a woman he’d barely met. That wasn’t the kind of man his parents had raised him to be. His dad—Cobar’s police sergeant—saw firsthand how poorly a lot of women in the Outback were treated and certainly expected better of his son.

  Life in the Outback wasn’t easy for anyone. It turned boys to men quickly. It turned men hard equally fast. Could turn them into bastards if they weren’t careful. Keith knew that all too well. He’d watched his uncle, Farpoint’s one-time horse-breaker, become bitter and violent and contemptuous. Had bore witness when his father had come to Farpoint thirteen years ago and arrested his own kid brother, Keith’s uncle, for domestic violence.

  His dad had hated to do it, hated even more that Keith—who lived on the station with his mother, the station’s resident cook—had seen it all. The violence, the rage, the impotent self-hate.

  For Keith, a young boy of fifteen, it had been a brutal lesson.

  Nothing sweet or innocent belonged in the Outback.

  And yet, here was Harper Shaw, looking sweet and pretty and innocent and so bloody feminine he could barely breathe.

  No wonder he was messed up.

  He looked at Marc in the rearview mirror again, the young man’s cheeky grin sending a tight, indefinable shard through Keith’s chest.

  Marc was his best mate. They did everything together.

  As if aware of his gaze, Marc swung his attention to the ute’s rearview mirror, his stare connecting with Keith’s in the glass.

  Hurry up, Marc mouthed before turning back to Harper.

  Gritting his teeth, ignoring the pulse of straining pressure in his groin, Keith pressed his foot harder to the accelerator. The main billabong on Farpoint Creek Station was five kilometers up the road. The sooner he got into the cool water, the better.

  Of course, that would be tricky while he was sporting a bloody inconvenient hard-on. He didn’t want to scare Harper. Stripping off and plunging into the water had seemed like a good idea when Marc suggested it an hour ago. “Let’s take Harper for a swim. Show her what life on Farpoint is like. She spent all day Sunday with the boss and all day today teaching. Bet she’s keen to blow off some steam.”

  Neither Keith nor Marc addressed Big Mac’s claims the American woman was gay, and when Keith had tried to call Amy in Chicago yesterday to ask, she hadn’t answered. Didn’t surprise Keith in the slightest. It had been one a.m. where she was. She was either sound asleep or partying hard.

  So here they were, with a woman who may or may not be gay, about to swim buck-naked together.

  Brilliant. Bloody brilliant. How the fuck did he let Marc talk him into stuff like this?

  Because he makes your life fun, dickhead. That’s why.

  Chuckling to himself, his pulse pounding far too fast in his ears, his dick far too hard for his jeans, he directed the ute under the old ghost gum tree growing beside the billabong, applied the brakes and killed the engine.

  “Here we are,” he heard Marc say a second before the ute dipped a fraction to the side and Marc jumped out of the tray.

  He opened his door, watching Marc run toward the large body of still water, stripping as he went.

  “Oh God, he’s…”

  Keith leaned out of the driver’s seat and looked toward Harper. However she would have finished her exclamation, it never made it past her lips. She stood frozen in the ute’s tray, her stare locked on Marc’s naked backside.

  The splash of Marc diving into the water, followed by his shouted “Holy fuck that’s cold!” jerked her from her stunned state.

  She burst out laughing. “And you want me to swim in that?” She glanced at Keith, her eyes sparkling, her hair a wild tumble of golden-blonde waves around her face and shoulders. “Is he serious?”

  Christ, she’s gorgeous.

  The thought stole Keith’s reply. Thankfully, Harper returned her attention to Marc before his silence became obvious.

  “Get your arse in here, Ms. Shaw,” Marc called.

  Keith turned his gaze on his best mate, finding him standing waist-deep in the water, his upper body glistening in the sun’s rays. The tattoo on his chest—a red-back spider building its web in between the stars of the Southern Cross—seemed to ripple over his flesh.

  As always, the sight of the ink made him remember the night Marc had gotten it. The night Marc had celebrated his eighteenth birthday in Cobar. The night Marc’s dad had been killed by a bike-gang member a mere block away from the tattoo parlor in which Marc and Keith sat, waiting for Marc’s turn to go.

  The night Keith promised the devastated young man he’d always be there for him, that he was his mate, that he’d never let him down. And he’d proven it by getting a tattoo on his own chest—a red-back spider perched above his heart.

  “You too, Blue.” Marc grinned at him from the billabong. “Before my dick shrivels up to nothing and you embarrass me with that—”

  “Shut the fuck up, Thomo,” Keith called. He turned back to her. “I’m going in. I apologize in advance for the view.”

  She frowned at him. “The view?”

  For an answer, Keith stood, shucked off his boots, removed his hat, yanked his shirt over his head and, with a quick breath, unzipped his fly and slid his jeans down his legs.

  He heard Harper’s gasp. Heard Marc’s laugh.

  He felt the warm autumn air wrap around his suddenly exposed erection. And then he was ignoring it all, running toward the billabong, his attention set on nothing but the water and its depths. He dove in, piercing the surface with his hands. His dick strained against the cool water, dragging like a bloody anchor as he plunged toward the billabong’s silted bottom.

  The dull splash behind him indicated someone had broken the water’s surface in another dive. Lungs burning, he touched the bottom of the billabong, let out a short stream of breath then planted his feet on the silt and propelled himself upward.

  Upward.

  Upward.

  Marc was laughing when he broke the surface. As was Harper. Treading water, Keith turned, finding them both a few feet away. If Harper was naked, Keith couldn’t tell. The only thing above the water was her head, her wet hair clinging to the shape of her skull before floating on the surface behind her like a golden fan.

  “It’s freezing!” The smile in her eyes belied her complaint.

  Keith chuckled. “It’s not exactly warm.”

  “Quit your bellyaching, you two.” Marc splashed water at Keith. “And live in the moment.”

  Harper splashed him back, the move disturbing the water enough for Keith to notice a hint of dusky shadow where her nipples would be.

  His groin tightened, the cold water having fuck-all effect on his hard-on. Jesus, what the fuck was he doing? What would he say when—r />
  Water splattered against his face. He threw a warning glare at Harper, his pulse quick. “Oh, you wanna start a war, do you? Think a lone American woman can defeat two Aussie blokes?”

  She splashed him again. “Bring it on, Kangaroo Jack.”

  “Right, that’s it.” Keith threw a look at Marc. “Ready, Thomo?”

  Marc nodded. “Ready, Blue.”

  Keith lunged for Harper. As did Marc. At the exact second Harper disappeared under the water with a squeal.

  The water fight lasted a good fifteen minutes. By the time it was finished, Keith had not only seen Harper’s exquisite breasts more than once, he’d felt them squashed against his back as she’d tried to dunk him under water. If it wasn’t for Marc “saving” him by snaring her around the waist and hauling her off his back, Keith would have gladly gone under, just to experience the sensation of them brushing the back of his head.

  It was a giddy moment. A wonderful moment.

  He’d never had so much fun with a naked woman, let alone one he barely knew. And despite the furious water fight, he was still as erect as ever.

  Was Marc in the same state?

  And if so, what did they do about it?

  “Time out!” Harper called, the words almost lost in her laugh. “Time out.”

  Keith shot Marc a look as she ducked under the water.

  His best mate looked back at him, his expression unreadable.

  “Okay,” Harper resurfaced, smoothing her wet hair down the back of her head and neck, “I call uncle. You win.”

  Marc chuckled. “Ah, the Australian brilliance is too much for the Yank. Onya, Blue. We win.”

  Harper bobbed in the water, the tops of her shoulders peaking above the surface. “Why Blue? Is it your eyes?”

  Marc directed a splash at Keith’s head. “It’s his hair.”

  Keith tried not to laugh at Harper’s puzzled frown. “But his hair is a reddish-blond,” she pointed out.

  “Yep.” Marc dropped her a wink and began swimming toward the far bank. “That’s why we call him Blue.”

  Harper turned her frown on Keith. “I don’t get it.”

  Keith shrugged, the feel of the water on his balls and cock more than a tad distracting. Or maybe it was the way drops of water clung to Harper’s eyelashes. Or the way she was slowly swimming closer to him, so close the ripples she made from each gentle dog-paddle stroke lapped against his chest. “It’s an Australian thing.”

  She looked at him for a long moment, an ambiguous expression clouding her eyes. And then she said, “Is kissing an American woman until she almost passes out an Australian thing?”

  He nodded, fighting to keep his own expression composed. “It is.”

  She caught her bottom lip with her teeth, dipping down into the water enough to cover her chin as she did so. “Can I confess something?”

  Keith nodded again. His chest was tight. His heart beating fast.

  The sounds of Marc’s strokes seemed distant. Another world away.

  Harper’s lips curved. “I didn’t think I would get so turned-on being kissed by a gay cowboy.”

  “A what?” Marc’s shout punched the tranquility of the billabong.

  Keith blinked. “A what?”

  Harper stared back, her eyes wide. “A gay cowboy. Oh God, I mean a gay stockman. I’m sorry.”

  Keith’s breath caught in his throat. “Who said I was gay?”

  This time, Harper blinked. “Ronnie McNamara. On the drive from the airport. He said you two have a contest to see who kisses the female visitors first and that you’re gay lovers. And Amy always talks about how close you two—”

  “Fucking Big Mac!” Marc’s shout made Harper flinch. Keith wasn’t surprised. The tone of his best mate’s voice was scary. He flung the jackaroo a quick look, watching him swim toward them both, strokes fast and powerful before he disappeared beneath the water.

  “Don’t worry,” Harper said, her voice flustered, her eyes wider by the second. “I won’t tell anyone. I promise. Your secret’s safe with—”

  “We’re not gay, Harper,” Keith interrupted, keeping his own voice calm.

  The water suddenly stirred beside Harper, Marc surfacing from beneath to tower over her. “Does this feel like we’re gay?” he asked, a heartbeat before he lowered his head and captured her lips.

  Chapter Four

  His lips were cool on hers. Harper registered that fact a microsecond before her brain imploded.

  Marc Thompson’s kiss was nothing like Keith’s of two days ago. Marc kissed her with savage hunger straightaway. He plundered her mouth with his tongue, took possession of it with fierce demand.

  She melted into him, unable to stop her arms as they wrapped his shoulders. Unable to stop her whimper as his hard body pressed to hers. Unable to stop her moan as his erection—thick and impossible to ignore—nudged her belly.

  He snared the hair at the back of her neck with a tight fist, holding her head motionless as he worshiped her lips and tongue.

  “Fuckin’ hell.”

  Keith’s groan stroked Harper’s sanity, the raw desire in his voice making her already spinning head spin some more.

  She dug her nails into Marc’s shoulder, knowing she should stop the kiss. At least until she could draw breath into her lungs.

  But Marc’s lips controlled her. They were insistent, dominating. They made her knees tremble and her heart race. The cool water lapped around them, growing colder as her body grew warmer. Hotter.

  God help her, she was on fire.

  She’d felt the same way when Keith had kissed her. As if she were an ember ignited by concentrated pleasure. She’d been left reeling by that kiss. She’d fantasized about its simple passion. How was it possible to feel that same way now with a kiss nothing like it?

  With a groan, she tore her lips free of Marc’s. “I…ah…you…”

  He looked down at her face, his nostrils flaring even as a small grin played with the corners of his mouth. “We’re not gay, Harper. We’re not even bi.”

  She sucked in a ragged breath. “I can see that now.”

  He chuckled. “Good. Now you’ve been kissed by us both—and I’m getting the idea you liked it.”

  She nodded, her pulse rapid.

  His gaze flicked to Keith. “I’m going to suggest something, Blue.” His voice was rough. “Something I’ve wanted to do for a long time. Just never met the woman I wanted to do it with until now.”

  “What’s that?”

  Harper’s heart quickened at Keith’s low growl. She shot a look at him over her shoulder, her pussy contracting at the sight of him standing waist-deep a few feet away. His blue eyes were ablaze with desire.

  Did her eyes look the same?

  “I’m suggesting we show Harper how not gay we are,” Marc answered, his hands smoothing down her back to cup her ass beneath the water. His rigid cock pressed with more insistence against her belly. “At the same time.”

  A gasp escaped Harper. She snapped her stare to his face, blood roaring in her ears.

  “What do you think, Harper?” He lowered his head to hers. “Game?”

  Prickling heat razed Harper’s flesh. Her lips tingled. Her breath caught in her throat. Her fantasy. Marc had just suggested her very fantasy.

  The dreams she’d spent the last two nights fixated on. The one she’d evolved from a titillating notion after Keith’s kiss to a fleshed-out, vivid, detailed erotic movie replaying over and over in her mind.

  So why wasn’t she saying yes?

  Because she’d played everything in her life safe? Because she’d sheltered herself from anything that wasn’t safe?

  No. Because fantasy wasn’t reality, and her reality was a life living scared.

  This is why you came to Australia, Harper. To shatter those fears once and for all. To experience the opposite of your life back home. To prove you’re no longer that little girl Andrew had to save from—

  “Marc.”

  It was Keith’s v
oice, threaded with uncertainty, that spurred her into action. She twisted in Marc’s arms, pressing her back to his chest, rubbing her ass against his hard cock as she slid her stare to Keith.

  “I’m game, Keith.” She looked at him through lowered lids, raising her arms up behind her head to tangle her fingers in Marc’s damp hair. “Are you?”

  He moved, a wake rolling away from his waist as he killed the distance between them. His hands cupped her face before his body pressed close, his thumbs resting on her cheeks as his lips claimed hers.

  She moaned into the kiss, her nipples pinching tight. Behind her, Marc’s cock nestled in the crevice of her ass, his hands skimming over her belly, up her rib cage to her breasts.

  Harper whimpered, her pussy constricting. The feel of being pressed between the two men was intoxicating. There was no definition for her mind to comprehend. Pleasure surrounded her. Hard, sculpted pleasure.

  Her fantasy hadn’t even come close.

  Keith’s erection tickled the curve of her mons, his thighs brushing hers in the water. His tongue swept into her mouth, a gentle exploration that belied the urgent want she felt in his cock.

  Marc’s fingers played with her nipples, pinching, flicking, twisting. His lips traveled her throat, his teeth nipping her flushed skin. She groaned with each bite, rolling her hips between them.

  God help her, she’d never felt so…so…

  Keith’s lips left hers, dragging down her throat, over her collarbone. He skimmed the tip of his tongue into the shallow dip at the base of her neck, lowering deeper into the water as he worked his way down her body.

  Without a word, Marc scooped up her breasts, holding them in his palms as if offering them to his best friend. Keith took one nipple into his mouth, sucking fast.

  Harper bucked in Marc’s arms, her cry loud in the quiet afternoon. “Christ, yes!”

  Marc sucked on her neck, brushing his thumb over her other nipple as Keith continued to feast on her breast.

  Ribbons of pleasure unfurled through the pit of her belly. Tingles of heat shot to every limb. Radiating from her breasts down to her very core. She squirmed, her pussy prickling with sudden heat. Her clit ached. She tried to push her thighs together but Keith’s hands stopped her.