Sunset Heat: Bandicoot Cove 2

by Lexxie Couper

  Perhaps he’s with Kennedy?

  The question didn’t sit well with Luke. Which unsettled him even more.

  What the fuck was wrong with him?

  “Do you reckon it’s too late for a guy my age to change his ways, Beaso?”

  Luke gave Mitch a frown. “You thinking of taking up surfing?”

  Mitch stared at the darkness beyond the poolside bar, dragged his fingers through his hair and let out a choppy sigh. “I don’t know.”

  And before Luke could utter another word, Mitch strode through the now-empty bar, leaving Luke alone.

  “He looks like the bride.”

  For the third time Luke started. He spun about, finding the owner of the female voice behind him.

  “I’m guessing—” Kennedy stepped out of the shadows, her SLR camera in hand, “—that he’s her brother?”

  Luke nodded. “Eldest. She has six.”

  Kennedy’s eyebrows shot up. “Six brothers? That would account for the large number of men walking around the resort insulting each other.”

  Luke chuckled. “It’s an Australian male thing. We don’t compliment those we love, we bag the shit out of them. It gets worse when they’re family.”

  Kennedy shook her head, her lips curling. “I’m not sure I’ll ever fully understand that mentality.”

  “It’s an odd one.”

  She studied him, an unreadable expression flickering across her face. “And what does an Australian woman say to a guy she thinks she’s falling in love with?”

  Luke’s mouth went dry. Bone dry. Fuck, drier than that. He drew a breath, forcing his body to calm. “She’d say, ‘I think I’m falling in love with you’.”

  Kennedy didn’t bat an eye. “And what would an Australian guy say to a woman who said that to him?”

  “He’d say, ‘What about Addison?’”

  A tiny smile pulled at a corner of Kennedy’s mouth. “All Australian men have cousins called Addison?”

  Luke didn’t answer. He knew she was trying to be flippant, to break the tension that had fallen between them, but that tension was so twisted through his every thought at the moment, no amount of joking could ease it.

  He had to know. He had to know where she stood with Addison. What she was wanting from Luke himself. He lived a whole bloody state away. She’d only just moved to Australia. And as for Addison? Was the consummate British rake ready to settle down? Was Addison better for Kennedy than Luke anyway? Should Luke feel guilty about not wanting the best for his cousin?

  For a long moment, Kennedy didn’t say a word. They stared at each other, every molecule in Luke’s body telling him to reach for her. To slide his arms around her waist, pull her into his body and kiss her.

  Instead, he stayed motionless. And silent.

  Finally Kennedy let out a ragged sigh. “I’m going back to my suite,” she said, looking away from him, her gaze moving about the dark garden beyond the bar. “I need to think.”

  “Kennedy.” He stopped. Dragged his hands through his hair and bit back a curse. “I want you. I’m bloody certain you know that. But I don’t know if I can share you anymore.”

  She nodded. “I understand.”

  “Ask me again what an Aussie bloke says to a girl who tells him she thinks she’s falling in love with him.”

  A small laugh bubbled up Kennedy’s throat. “What’s an Aussie bloke say to a woman who tells him she thinks she’s falling in love with him?”

  Luke pulled a deep breath, placed his hand on her cheek and did the bravest, hardest thing he’d ever done in his life, a life spent running into burning houses and facing down death almost every day. “He tells her to be sure,” he said.

  And then he turned and walked from the bar.

  And every step he took, he called himself a stupid fucking wanker.

  Every bloody step.

  By the time he reached his suite, he was borderline nauseous. He loved his cousin more than any other man in the world. How could he tell him there wasn’t a bloody hope in hell of sharing Kennedy with him again?

  What would he do if Addison refused to back off?

  What would he do if Kennedy decided Addison was the better fit for her?

  Shoving his key into the suite’s lock, he pushed open the door and stormed inside.

  “Her Majesty wants to give me a knighthood.”

  Luke froze at Addison’s voice. He swung his stare to where his cousin slouched on the room’s sofa, iPad balanced on his thighs. “What?”

  Addison looked at whatever was on the tablet’s screen, shaking his head. “Betty wants to knight me. I received the email from her office ten minutes ago.”

  “Holy shit, Ado.” Luke grinned. “That’s fantastic.”

  And yet, even as he said the words, his gut clenched. A knight. What woman in her right mind could resist a knight? Especially one who looked like Addison? If Kennedy was still unsure about how she felt about Addison, him being knighted…

  Luke looked at his cousin, relaxed on the leather sofa, immaculate in a designer polo shirt and jeans, clean-shaven, groomed and polished.

  What woman wouldn’t want a knight in shining armor like that? If she had to choose between an award-winning, knighted millionaire and a firefighter from a working-class city, what sane woman would pick the fiery?

  “So,” Addison was saying, and Luke gave himself a mental slap, dragging his attention back to his cousin, “sometime in May next year I get to go down on one knee in front of Her Royalness and let her whip me about with a sword.” He pulled a boyish frown. “Is that the way it happens nowadays? Or does she just, I don’t know, send me a text or something?”

  Luke crossed to the suite’s bar and poured himself a scotch. No ice. He knew he should be happy for his cousin, and he was, but he couldn’t help but feel…defeated.

  Think about what Kennedy said to you back at the bar. About falling in love with you. You, not Addison.

  That was true. But he’d seen the way she’d looked at his cousin through the night. She was attracted to him. It was clear in her eyes. He didn’t know how to deal with that. He didn’t have a fucking clue how to deal with it, and it was all his fucking fault because he was the one who’d suggested the damn threesome with his cousin. His cousin who was going to be fucking knighted. Knighted, of all fucking—

  “Luke?”

  Luke started. Ignoring his drink, he turned back to Addison, forcing his expression to be calm.

  Addison studied him, iPad now on the cushion beside him. “You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”

  Luke sucked in a swift breath. He stared at his cousin, his blood roaring in his ears. “Yeah,” he finally said. “I think I am.”

  Addison’s jaw bunched. “Does she love you?”

  “I don’t know. She might.” Luke let out a dry chuckle. “But you’re a hard one to compete against, Ado. And you can offer her so much more than me.”

  Addison didn’t answer. Not for a long moment. When he finally did, Luke wished he hadn’t. “And is that what we’re doing? Competing for her?”

  Luke shook his head. “You tell me.”

  Addison’s gaze slid from Luke and danced around the suite, as if the soon-to-be-knighted Brit looked for the answer. “From the second I saw her, I wanted her,” he said, each word clipped and strained. “And it wasn’t because she was naked and sexy and vulnerable. It was…I don’t know how to explain it…primitive? Chemistry? I didn’t just want to fuck her—which is my normal reaction to a beautiful woman, especially a naked beautiful woman—I wanted to get to know her. That’s not typical for me, and you know it.”

  Luke’s chest tightened. His gut clenched. He stood motionless, watching his cousin rise from the sofa and walk toward him. Every muscle in his body tensed. Every nerve ending fired up. He’d faced down more than one opponent in more than one pub brawl during his wild youth. He’d faced down more than one threat to his life in his role as a firefighter as well. Nothing compared to the adrenaline-charg
ed seconds it took for Addison to cross the room and stop but a few feet from him.

  He drove his nails into his palms, rolled his shoulders and met his cousin’s stare face-on.

  “I’ve spent enough time,” Addison said, his British accent growing more pronounced with each word, his gaze level and direct, “filming animals during mating season to know what happens when two alpha males want the same female. It gets…” He paused. Long enough for Luke to narrow his eyes and ball his fists tighter. “…bloody.”

  Luke stayed motionless. He wasn’t scared of Addison. When it came to sheer muscle and strength, Luke could break Addison in two without much of a sweat.

  But the man was his cousin, and Luke loved him as such. Could he bring himself to strike back if Addison decided it was time to get, as he put it, “bloody”?

  And if he did, could Luke live with himself afterward?

  Could he live without Kennedy?

  “Ado.” He loosened his shoulders. “Mate, you don’t want to—”

  “No.” Addison shook his head. “You’re wrong. I do.”

  And with a flat, hard glare, Addison turned on his heel, strode across the suite and out the door.

  Leaving Luke frozen. Even as adrenaline scorched through his veins and burnt him up alive.

  Chapter Seven

  There were advantages to being a British award-winning wildlife cinematographer. Money, fame, infamy, the ability to get into any party in Great Britain, any restaurant… Addison had, at one stage or another, exploited them all. Being able to sleep under the stars without pillow, blanket or a clean change of underwear was another, one he hadn’t thought he’d be needing during his time at Bandicoot Cove. And yet here he was stretched out on one of the beaches of Bilby Island, his pillow and boxers back in the suite he shared with Luke, watching the stars slowly wink out of existence as the night sky grew light with dawn.

  He’d stormed around the resort for a good two hours after walking away from his cousin.

  Stormed and stomped and muttered and cursed himself for being the pathetic, lowlife rake he was.

  And the moral family member.

  He wanted Kennedy, but his cousin was in love with her. There was no denying that. He’d suspected it during their mind-blowing threesome. He’d seen it in Luke’s eyes during the cocktail party. If it had been anyone but Luke, Addison wouldn’t have given a sodding fuck. He’d have done what he usually did when he wanted something or someone. Take it.

  Seduce whatever fine young female he wanted out from under whoever foolishly thought they were her end-all and be-all.

  Claim her. Like the rake he was.

  But this was Luke. And it wasn’t just that Luke was family. Or that he could beat Addison to a bloody pulp if he wanted. Luke was decent. Luke was…was…sod it, Luke was a hero, and the world didn’t have enough of those.

  Which made wanting Kennedy the way Addison did all the more difficult.

  He let out a long sigh, his breath choppy. The cool sand beneath him was decidedly hard after three solid hours of lying on it. Three solid hours spent thinking about his future, his cousin, Kennedy. Not one minute of those three hours were spent thinking about his impending knighthood. If HRH knew, she’d most likely be quite miffed. One of her royal subjects thinking more about a convict and a colonial?

  Addison’s lips curled into a small smile. “We are not amused.”

  “About what?”

  Addison scrambled onto his knees, staring up at the owner of the softly asked question.

  Kennedy was a few feet away, walking toward him across the sand. The rising sun, just breaking the horizon, cast her in a warm golden light, and it was all Addison could do not to groan.

  She wore denim shorts and a white tank top, her long blonde hair pulled back in a simple ponytail. There wasn’t an inch of makeup on her face, no lip gloss, eyeliner, nothing. Addison swallowed, his body reacting to the sight of her natural beauty.

  “Why are you out here so damn early?” she asked, dropping onto the sand beside him. It was only then Addison noticed the SLR camera in her hand, a rather impressive state-of-the-art digital number he knew cost a small fortune. “And who isn’t amused?”

  “Her Royal Highness isn’t amused.” He shifted onto his butt, draping his arms around his bent knees as he grinned at her. Inside, his heart was doing the samba.

  Kennedy raised a quizzical eyebrow.

  Addison chuckled. “I just spent the last three hours thinking about an American and an Australian when I should have been thinking about her royal offer of bestowing me a knighthood.”

  “A knighthood?” Kennedy’s mouth fell open. “Oh my God, Addison. That’s amazing. Congratulations.”

  He looked at her, his throat tight. His balls tighter. “You’re amazing.”

  She caught her bottom lip with her teeth. “You still haven’t told me,” she began, her voice husky, “why you are out here so early?” She held up her camera, a nervous laugh bubbling from her—as if she was unsure how to respond to his statement. “I’m out here to take photos of the sunrise. What’s your excuse?”

  “I came out here to escape.”

  Her eyebrows knitted. “Escape what?”

  Addison drew a slow breath, the subtle scent of her—floral soap and delicate perfume—flowing into his being. “The distinct possibility of doing something stupid.”

  Her gaze moved over his face, her frown deepening. “Like what?”

  “Like this,” he said, leaning forward to claim her lips with his.

  She didn’t move. Not for the time it took Addison’s heart to beat twice. Her lips stayed the way they were when he kissed her, parted slightly, her body motionless. And then, with a soft groan, she opened to him, touching her tongue to his. Hesitant, uncertain.

  Addison lifted his hand, smoothing his fingers over her jaw to cup her face. He deepened the kiss, exploring her mouth. Flicking his tongue over hers, tracing the edge of her teeth, the inner softness of her lips.

  He explored her chin, her throat, nipping and tasting her as he moved his lips up to the little dip below her ear. He teased the shallow indentation with his tongue before capturing her earlobe, sucking it with gentle pressure.

  Kennedy’s fingers touched his chest, so near his nipples he let out a shaky moan. His cock throbbed in his jeans, hard and thick and erect. He’d never been so easily stirred as he was with Kennedy, and it scared him. Especially when there was—

  She groaned again, the sound reaching down into the pit of his stomach. It was an aroused sound. And a tormented one.

  He heard it. Her conflict threaded through the desire he felt in her kiss. It sheared through him and he pulled away, his pulse pounding in his ears.

  “Luke.”

  His cousin’s name left him on a whispered breath. He dropped his hand from Kennedy’s cheek, watching the confusion swimming in her eyes.

  Ah, sod it.

  “Addison—” she caught her bottom lip with her teeth, “—I…I don’t…”

  He straightened away from her. “It’s okay.” It wasn’t. Not by a long shot. It tore at him like a hook in his heart, wrenching the heat from his soul. “He’s a really great bloke.”

  Kennedy shook her head. “No, that’s not it. I don’t know…”

  “Know?”

  She shook her head again, the dawn sun bathing her in warm light. “It’s all…messed up. I’d fantasized about a threesome—I think most sexually adventurous women do at one point or another. It was the reason Max, the guy I’d been seeing for over three years, dumped me. I mentioned it one night while we were watching Bones. The episode featured a sex club, and I thought he’d get a laugh out of it. Instead, he called me a kinky slut and left.”

  Addison raised his eyebrows. He wanted to tell her Max was an utter git, but the words wouldn’t come. Despite the possibility he still stood a chance with her—at least that’s what he thought Kennedy was going to say—he couldn’t shake the total guilt that had slammed through
him the second Luke’s name passed his lips.

  But if she does choose you? Or tell you she wants to try a permanent ménage relationship?

  He had no answer for that.

  “So there I was,” Kennedy went on, her stare moving to the beach, the water like a blanket of sparkling jewels under the rising sun, “feeling sorry for myself, drinking myself silly in a bar, and this gorgeous, sexy guy starts talking to me with an Australian accent. An Australian accent. Do you have any idea how sexy an Australian accent is?”

  Addison gave her a wry grin. “Almost as sexy as a British one?”

  She chuckled, turning back to him. “You see? This is my problem. You are my problem. Luke is my problem. He was meant to be Rebound Guy and…” She paused, a frown knitting her eyebrows again. “And he turned out to be something else. And you were meant to be just part of a fantasy I finally got to experience…”

  She stopped, swinging her gaze back to the water.

  Addison studied her profile. The need to brush the back of his knuckles against her cheek surged through him. To slip his fingers under her chin and turn her face back to his.

  He didn’t have to. She swung back to him, her stare direct. “And instead, you make me laugh with almost every word.”

  “And make you come time and again.”

  She blushed at his conceited claim. “Yes, you did that as well.”

  The past tense wasn’t lost on Addison. Nor was the nagging guilt still gnawing at him. The sense of betrayal.

  He’d worn his rake mantle for his entire adult life. Longer, in fact. The morning he first woke to a hard-on as a young teenage boy he’d been aware what decadent pleasures there were to be had in life. His parents’ money and social status allowed him to indulge in it, his good looks allowed him to revel in it. And yet here he was now, fraught with confusion. One of the most beautiful, intriguing women he’d ever had the fortune to know, let alone sleep with, was telling him he may or may not be her future, and he wasn’t pressing her to the cool sand and claiming her body with his hands and cock. He was thinking about his cousin, who was in love with her.

  And he was thinking how, of every living soul he knew—from the upper-class rich in Britain, to the naturalists and filmmakers he worked with, from the servants who worked for his family to the women he kept on speed-dial for those times he needed a no-strings-attached escort—Luke was the only one who treated him like just a normal man. Like a friend.