What happened after Nick Blackthorne left their lives and it was just the two of them again? Aidan the fiery and Mack the journo? What happened then?
What happens if Nick doesn’t want to leave, Rogers? What happens if he decides he wants McKenzie for himself? What do you do then? How do you compete with the world’s biggest rock star with a dick the size of a rhino’s?
A tight chill rippled through him. A second before a hard slap struck him on the shoulder.
“Hey!” He pulled away, looking down into McKenzie’s upturned face. “What was that for this time?”
“For being a jerk.” She scowled. “Next time you decide to try and wear a building for a hat, remember that slap, okay?”
He laughed. He couldn’t help himself. “I’ll try.” He grinned, snuggling her closer to his body, his hands cupping her backside with a gentle squeeze. His cock twitched in his cargo pants, more than happy to go along with the fondling.
She scowled a little harder. “Do.”
Before he could stop himself—and why would he?—he dipped his head and brushed his lips over hers. “Anyone tell you you’re kinda pushy, Ms. Wood?” he murmured, squeezing her ass again as he rolled his hips forward.
She gazed up at him, her hands resting on his chest, her lips parting. The silence stretched between them, heavy, thick. She touched the tip of her tongue to her bottom lip and her eyes widened, as if she’d just realized something very, very important.
“I—”
The suite’s phone rang.
You’ve got to be bloody kidding me.
An ambiguous frown flittered across McKenzie’s face and, with a gentle shove, she disentangled herself from Aidan’s arms and crossed the room.
Leaving him standing motionless, his dick growing stiff and his heart thumping harder than ever.
Chewing on her bottom lip, McKenzie snatched up the phone’s hand piece from the cradle and pressed it to her ear. “H—”
“What the hell are you doing?” Kylie yelled on the other end of the line, her normally soft, lilting voice far from quiet—or lilting. McKenzie flinched, pulling the phone a little from her ear. Damn, she’d forgotten how loudly her friend could screech.
“What am I doing?” She frowned, turning to Aidan. He stood looking at her, all massive broad chest, sculpted six-pack and lean hips. Hell, even the tattoo under his shirt made her sex constrict, its burning form so very much the perfect metaphor for how he made her feel—on fire.
Which is why you were just about to—
“I’ve just been informed by one of my staff,” Kylie went on, assuming a very uptight tone—far more businesslike than any McKenzie had heard her use, “that a reporter from Goss Weekly has been harassing Nick Blackthorne.”
McKenzie laughed. “Oh, that.”
“Yes, that,” Kylie snapped, and McKenzie flinched again. “I invited you here as my friend, Mack, not as a bloody journalist for that shit mag you work for.” The words tripped over each other, Kylie’s anger turning each one to a sharp report. “Do you have any idea how hard it was even getting to talk to Blackthorne’s agent? And you go and pull this stunt on me?”
“No, it’s not like that, Ky,” McKenzie said quickly, her friend’s rising ire like a blow to the stomach. “I slept with him.”
Silence greeted her statement. Not even the sound of Kylie breathing could be heard.
McKenzie licked her lips, her gaze moving to Aidan’s, watching him watching her. “I haven’t been harassing him,” she continued, Kylie’s complete lack of response unnerving her. “Well, not since I first approached him, and then Aidan stopped me from—”
“Wait a minute,” Kylie cut her off, and McKenzie could almost see her friend on the other end of the line, her eyes narrowing the way they always did when she was processing information she couldn’t believe possible, her head tilted to the side just a fraction. “Are you telling me you had sex with Nick Blackthorne?”
McKenzie nodded, a stupid thing to do, given Kylie couldn’t see her, but reflex all the same. “Yes.”
More silence. Followed by Kylie saying, “You stupid cow.”
McKenzie’s eyebrows shot up her forehead. “Excuse me?”
“I can’t believe you did that.” Her voice wasn’t just angry this time; it was disappointed. “Why the fuck did you think I specifically told you to bring Aidan to the island? Damn it, Mack. It was because I thought the romance of the island would finally make you see…would finally make you realize how desperately he—”
“Aidan was there.”
McKenzie’s hurried statement shut Kylie up. Pronto.
“I had my first threesome.” McKenzie grinned, holding Aidan’s gaze with her own. Her pussy constricted, her belly squirming with a tight sensation she recognized all to well—arousal. Arousal for the man standing watching her. Christ, he made her horny.
“Wait, wait, wait.” Kylie’s voice was incredulous. “You had sex with Aidan?”
The squirming sensation in McKenzie’s stomach grew more insistent, sinking into the warm junction of her thighs. Her nipples pinched tight, the minute reaction drawing Aidan’s attention for a split second. His nostrils flared and he returned his stare to her face, hungry desire smoldering in his eyes.
McKenzie nodded again, her pulse beating faster. “Yes.”
“Aidan Rogers?” Kylie questioned down the phone line. “New South Wales’ firefighter of the year? Eight-foot-five, built-like-a-brick-office-block Aidan Rogers?”
McKenzie’s sex contracted, the aroused thrill twisting through her body turning into something else. Something far more wanton. “Yes, Aidan. And Nick Blackthorne.”
“Aidan Rogers?” Kylie asked, ignoring the singer’s inclusion. “Your best friend? The man you’ve known for practically ever? The guy who once punched out the school captain for saying you had a fuckable arse? That Aidan Rogers?”
McKenzie smiled, her sex fluttering some more. If Kylie was going to tell her she was an idiot for doing such a thing, McKenzie was going to tell her friend to stick it in her ear. “Yes. That Aidan Rogers.”
Once again, silence filled the connection.
McKenzie’s eyebrows pulled into a slight frown. She looked at Aidan, his expression puzzled. And just a little concerned. Any second now he’d come and take the phone from her, she could see it in his eyes and the way his muscles coiled beneath his shirt.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Kylie suddenly burst out. “Oh, my God!” She laughed, the riotous peals of jubilation forcing McKenzie to jerk the phone away in an effort to preserve her eardrum’s delicate integrity. “About freaking time!”
A heavy beat thumped in McKenzie’s throat. Damn it, did everyone know how Aidan felt about her, except her? Jesus, how ignorant and blind could she be?
She placed the phone back to her ear, her lips curling into a wide grin. “I’m not kidding,” she said, watching Aidan walk towards her. She gazed up at him, her lips parting as he stopped directly before her, his thighs brushing hers, his eyes not just smoldering with desire, but positively ablaze. Desire. For her. Powerful, undeniable desire. Bloody hell, how could she have missed it?
“Was it good?” Kylie gushed, her excitement thrumming through the connection. “Tell me it was good. Tell me it was amazing. Oh, my God, tell me you’re going to do it again. And again. And again.”
With a small, lopsided smile, Aidan reached out and took the phone from McKenzie’s fingers, raising it to his ear. “And again,” he said into the mouthpiece, his voice a deep rumble that sent a shard of wet electricity into McKenzie’s core. “Now excuse us, will you Kylie? There’s somewhere I have to take Mack. And something I have to do to her. Again.”
And as Kylie’s squeal of delight exploded through the connection, Aidan threw the phone over his shoulder and lowered his head, his breath mingling with McKenzie’s as his lips brushed hers. “Ready?”
She was ready. More than ready. When it came to Aidan, how had she ever not been? So why was her
stomach knotting? Why was she feeling…nervous?
Because this isn’t just a simple fuck-fest, Mack, and you know it. Which means it’s something else. Something more. But with Nick Blackthorne in the equation, with him waiting for you both in his bungalow, with you both heading there now…what does that make that “something else”? What? What?
She didn’t know and that not knowing scared her. She should know. Hell, Aidan wasn’t an unknown quantity. He was her best friend. He was her rock, her world, her crutch. He was what put the smile on her face and chased away the tears when life made her sad. But that was the old Aidan, the pre-threesome Aidan. What if that Aidan was gone now? Lost to her because of what they’d shared?
And if that was the case, who was the Aidan with her now? Come to think of it, who was she now? Could they ever move on from what had happened in this room? Did Aidan even want to? Did she? Did she even want to go to Nick’s bungalow? With the irrefutable pleasure waiting for her there, how could she not? But was it pleasure from two men worshipping her body, or simply pleasure from Aidan—just Aidan?
Her belly knotted again. Oh God. Too many unanswered questions. She hated unanswered questions. Hated them.
Then find the answers.
Aidan’s lips moved over hers, not a kiss but a soft and achingly sweet caress. “Shall we go?”
Tell Aidan you want to stay here. Tell him you want to stay here and make love to him and only him. Tell him you love—
“Nick’s probably waiting for us.”
A numb calm fell over her body. She’d never felt so confused. When she should be feeling so damn wonderful she’d never felt so bloody confused. She was balancing on the edge of a yawning precipice shrouded in unanswered questions and she had no clue if she was going to fall…
Then step back from the edge for a moment, Mack. Step back.
McKenzie’s belly flip-flopped and she pulled in a steady breath, closing her eyes and leaning into Aidan’s chest for a heartbeat before pushing herself from his body. She needed space. She needed time. Some way to gain a little perspective, but how could she get that space, time and perspective with Aidan beside her? And with Nick waiting?
“You’re right, Aidan.” She gave him a slow smile. “He probably is. But I have to go for a walk first.”
A flash of worry etched between Aidan’s eyebrows, a deep crease she rarely saw on his face but recognized all the same. He wanted to ask her more, she could tell by the way he regarded her. But he didn’t. He was still Aidan, after all. She may have discovered he was her very deepest sexual fantasy and even deeper soul fantasy. He may have shared the most amazing sexual experience of her life with her, but he was still Aidan. Even if this new post-threesome Aidan was different, Aidan her best friend knew when to push her and when to let her have some rope, and right now, she needed some rope.
If only enough to walk through the resort’s grounds and clear her head.
“Just give me a few minutes, okay?” She rested her hands on his chest. His heart beat under her right palm, a drumming rhythm that vibrated straight into her own body.
He studied her, gaze unwavering, before giving a single nod. “Where shall I meet you?”
Here.
She wanted to say it. She really did. She wanted to say, “Here—just you and me”, but she wasn’t brave enough. Because what if just “her and him” didn’t work anymore? After what they’d shared with Nick, what if what she and Aidan had only just discovered was now…tainted? What did she do then?
And there you have even more bloody questions, Mack. You need to go think about what you’ll do if the answers to all these questions aren’t the ones you want them to be.
With another smile, this one smaller and much more wry, she slipped from his loose embrace and walked to the door. “I’ll meet you at Nick’s bungalow.”
Aidan’s Adam’s apple jerked up and down in his throat but he didn’t say a word. Not one.
Not even when she turned the doorknob, pulled open the door and left him standing alone.
The early evening air flowed over her body, curled around her bare legs and arms in a warm and humid caress. She drew it into her lungs in a long, slow breath, counting to ten as she did so.
When had she become so gutless? Damn it, she was supposed to be a fearless journalist, for Pete’s sake. She’d hounded drug-using actors, wife-cheating politicians and stripper-addicted authors in her time at Goss. Hell, only this morning she’d approached the world’s most famous rock star to ask him about his sexuality. Why couldn’t she look her best friend in the eye, tell him exactly how she felt about him and ask him how he felt about her? Like, really felt about her? She knew he wanted her sexually, but was that just it? Were they friends with benefits now?
God, Mack, are you serious? Is that what’s worrying you? The sex? Just the sex?
No, it wasn’t. It was more. It was a life unfolding in front of her with Aidan’s place in it unclear. That was a future she’d never, ever glimpsed before and it scared her witless.
She walked away from the suite, heading for the beach. The sounds of the resort wafted around her, the low murmur of people enjoying the luxury threading through the whisper of the coastal breezes in the lush gardens and the gentle swish of the nearby waves on the sand.
She let out another ragged breath, her bare feet taking her farther away from her suite and the man within it. Kylie had wanted this place to be something magical for her and Aidan, and it had. It truly had. But what happened if that magic didn’t follow them back to the mainland? Would it be capable of returning with them to Newcastle and their normal lives when the memory of Nick’s part in that magic shadowed them?
Who says it would?
She pulled a face. She did. Every time one of Nick’s songs played over the radio she’d be drawn back into the moment both men possessed her body, and she didn’t doubt Aidan would be as well. Would they survive that? Or would everything, everything just fall apart?
What would she do if that happened? How would she live each day without Aidan in her world, even “just her friend” Aidan? He’d been there for so long, she couldn’t imagine a life without him. She knew she wanted more than what they’d had before, her heart knew it, her soul knew it and her body knew it, but what the hell would she do if not even that was there for her anymore?
The cool silken kiss of sand through her toes sent a shiver up her spine and she stopped, staring out at the absolute beauty of the Pacific Ocean before her. The water was calm, the setting sun turning the rolling waves a deep indigo-purple, the breaking foam on each a golden pink. Couples strolled along the pristine white sand, hand-in-hand or arms wrapped around waists, hips brushing hips as they made their ambling way to whatever happiness awaited them.
McKenzie closed her eyes on the sight of all that peace and beauty, feeling even more unsettled. What was wrong with her?
“Shall I remind you, you can’t surf to save yourself?”
Mason’s voice behind her made McKenzie jump and she spun to face her twin, her heart beating far too fast in her throat. “What the hell are you doing here?” she snapped, giving him a narrowed-eyed glare. “Aren’t you meant to be out on that bucket of rust you and Trent call a boat?”
Mason’s cheeks seemed to fill with a warm pink tinge—or maybe it was the sinking sun’s rays that cast his face in such a blushing light. Either way, he flashed her a somewhat sheepish grin, the action very un-Mason-like. “Yeah, well, with six months of being on Pleasure ahead of us, I’m kinda letting my land legs make the most of it while they can.”
McKenzie cocked an eyebrow, her brother’s passive answer even less Mason-like than his smile. “Why do I feel like you’re not telling me something?” She narrowed her eyes on his again. “Are you up to something Mum will have a freak about?”
Mason snorted, his hands finding his hair and scruffing at the thick dark-blond waves. “You could probably say that.”
“Oh, goodie.” McKenzie wriggled. “Can I tell h
er?”
For an answer, Mason gave her his own intense stare. “Wanna tell me why you’re standing here gaping at the surf alone? Where’s Rogers?”
At Aidan’s name, McKenzie’s belly did another little flip-flop. And her pussy gave a tight little flutter. She let out a sigh, turning back to the breathtaking beauty of the beach. Behind her, the resort seemed to settle into the approaching night, the distant sound of someone saying “one-two-one-two” in a microphone peppering the more recognizable sounds of exotic birds calling to their absent partners. “Have you ever done something completely reckless and insane and downright surreal, and then thought, holy shit, what do I do next?”
Her brother snorted again. “Every fucking day of my life of late.”
McKenzie shot him a sideward look. His jaw was clenched, his stare fixed on the rolling waves. She suppressed a wry chuckle. Typical. The day she goes and gets herself all fucked-up, Mason decided to as well. No wonder their other brothers always complained about their “scary-shit twin thing”.
She gave his shoulder a nudge with hers. “You okay?”
Mason pulled a face. “Nope. You?”
She laughed, shaking her head. “Nope. Wanna tell me about it?”
He laughed in return, shoving her shoulder back with a fraction more force. “Not yet. You?”
“No way. That would be way too weird.” She smiled, Mason’s presence seeping into the unsettled apprehension gnawing at her bones. If there was one other person on this planet she could rely on apart from Aidan it was Mason. Her twin, however, didn’t make her think dirty thoughts. Or warm, fuzzy happily-ever-after thoughts. “Do you think it’s possible best friends can share everything, Mase? Like, everything?”
“You reading my mind again, girly-girl?” His use of his special childhood nickname for McKenzie made her throat tight. He hadn’t called her girly-girl since they were twelve—since she’d nipple-crippled him into stopping. Why had she done that? She couldn’t remember now. “I think best friends should know what can be shared and what can’t, no matter what the rest of the world thinks.”
Tropical Sin: Bandicoot Cove, Book 2 Page 8
