Misplaced Hands: 4 (Foreign Affairs) (7 page)

“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—

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.

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 voice, 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.

He flattened his palms to her upper thighs, his thumbs tracing circles over her flesh. His tongue and teeth and mouth tormented her nipple, the suckling pressure growing fiercer. Behind her, Marc kneaded her breasts, his mouth exploring the side of her neck, her jaw. His tongue swiped into the shell of her ear before he captured her lobe with his teeth.

She hissed at the shard of pleasurable pain the bite awoke, bucking her hips forward.

Keith took advantage of her shift, his thumb grazing the seam of her sex.

“Oh,” she panted, rolling her head. The sun beat against her closed eyelids. The water lapped against her skin. Her senses were in overdrive, her body more aware of every caress, every touch, than she could fathom.

When Keith dipped his thumb into her pussy, she gasped.

When Marc pinched her nipple, she begged for more.

“Fuck, I want to be inside you,” he groaned against her throat.

She whimpered, Keith’s thumb inside her heat, his sucking mouth on her nipple, denying her the ability to form words.