Sunset Heat: Bandicoot Cove 2

by Lexxie Couper

  He shook his head again, taking a pace away from her. “I don’t want to know. I really don’t.” He cast Addison a level look, his jaw bunching again. “Well played, Sir Addison. You beat me. The knight in shining armor gets the girl. May you be happy together.”

  “Don’t be a dick, convict,” Addison said behind Kennedy, each word a low growl.

  Luke barked out a dry laugh. “I’m the dick? Yeah, I guess I am. A dick for thinking my cousin, a man who is more like a brother to me, would actually care about what I want.” His gaze moved to Kennedy, pain a dark shadow on his face. “Who I want. Good thing we got that cleared up, isn’t it? Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a buck’s party to see to. There’s a pole dancer I need to…debrief on tonight’s activities and a hot little waitress who’s wanting me to take her somewhere private and fuck her silly. Tell me, how private was the beach where you two did it?”

  Kennedy gasped. Her stomach clenched.

  Luke shook his head one more time, his stare locked on her face. “Don’t bother answering that. I’ll find somewhere else.”

  He turned and walked away before Kennedy could say a word, his body coiled, his fists balled, cold hate radiating from him.

  She stood and watched him go, wanting to go after him. To say sorry. To beg him to forgive her. To tell him that she knew, she really did know now. That she picked him, she picked him. And always would.

  She almost took a step. Almost. And then she saw Luke pull his cell phone and a piece of paper from his back pocket, read what was written on the paper and then dial a number and lift the phone to his ear.

  Cold pain sheared through her heart. She had no idea who he was calling—it could have been anyone—but she recognized the piece of paper in his hand. It was from an order book from the Seaspray Bistro. The kind of book a waitress would use to write their phone number on when flirting with a sexy guest. A sexy guest like Luke.

  An invisible fist punched Kennedy in the belly, and she closed her eyes, a soft sob bursting past her dry lips.

  “You should have told him.”

  She jumped at Addison’s low voice. “Told him what?”

  “That you picked him.”

  “How did you—”

  His sad smile stole the question from her lips. “I could see it in your eyes. I may have made you come, but I’ve never had your heart. Have I?”

  Kennedy didn’t know what to say. When had she become such an inarticulate idiot?

  Addison raised a hand and placed it on her cheek. “If it helps, I’m still here. And if my cousin continues to be a dick, I’ll be here for the next two days.”

  She caught her bottom lip with her teeth, a frown pulling at her eyebrows. “Only two days?”

  “Two days. Then it’s back to ol’ Blighty for a visit with the Queen.” He lowered his head, nudging her forehead with his. “You’re more than welcome to join me if you want.”

  Kennedy swallowed. Closed her eyes, tilted her chin upward and brushed her lips over Addison’s. “You really are a knight in shining armor, aren’t you?”

  He chuckled. “It’s what every girl wants, isn’t it? A knight? That, or a hero to rescue her?”

  A hero. Like a firefighter.

  Taking a step away from him, Kennedy let him see her smile. “What every girl wants,” she said before, with a quick kiss on his sad smile, she turned on her heel and went after Luke, praying to the god of idiotic, stupid girls everywhere she could find him.

  The swimming hole was definitely private, the sand was definitely cool and soft and white, and Shelli the waitress most definitely was naked as the day she was born. Luke, however, didn’t give a shit.

  He watched the nubile young woman swim through the clear water, her body the stuff of fantasies, and could only think about Kennedy.

  Could only curse the American.

  Could only ache for her.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to come in?” Shelli called, the water streaming over her curves, her nipples, as she straightened to her feet. She gave him a slow smile, doing her best—Luke knew—to seduce him.

  It wasn’t working. The whole fucking thing wasn’t working. Almost an hour of being felt up by the hot little waitress, of watching her strip her clothes from her hot little body, of watching her touch herself as she waded into the water, giving him come-fuck-me looks the whole time, and his cock was a flaccid hunk of disinterest.

  He ground his teeth. Contempt coated the back of his throat with bitter heat. His gut boiled with sour anger. Why had he thought this was a good idea? Why the fuck had he thought this would work? Come out into the middle of nowhere and fuck a woman who wasn’t the woman he wanted to fuck? Out of spite? Retaliation?

  Oh yeah, you really are full of good fucking ideas aren’t you, Beaso?

  Planting his hands on the soft sand beside him, he pushed himself to his feet. He had to get back to the resort. If nothing else, Aidan would be looking for him. The guy was getting married tomorrow and where was his best man? Off in the bloody rainforest not screwing one of the resort’s staff.

  “Where are you going?”

  He turned at the wet hand on his arm. Shelli was frowning up at him, her gloriously naked body glistening. Drops of water beaded on her erect nipples, and if he’d been any kind of red-blooded male he’d lick them off.

  His dick lay dormant in his cargos.

  “I’m sorry, Shelli.” He covered her hand with his, gave it a gentle squeeze and removed it from his arm. “I can’t. I shouldn’t have let you think I could.”

  She frowned some more. “Really? Why?”

  A wry chuckle bubbled up from Luke’s chest. “There’s someone else.”

  “She can join us if she likes.” The waitress pressed her damp, soft body closer to Luke. “Or he can. I’m easy either way.”

  Luke snorted. A threesome? Of course, the perfect solution to any situation.

  He shook his head and took a step back. “Thanks for the offer, but no.”

  Shelli held out her arms, letting him see everything he’d already seen. “Really? I’m not offering anything but a fun time, Luke. No commitment, no come-and-meet-Mum-and-Dad. I won’t even call you in the morning.” She circled her nipples with her fingertips, licking her lips as she did so. “Just a fun time.” Her right hand slipped down to her shaved pussy, dipping between her thighs. “Just a good time. A really good time.”

  Luke watched her fingers roll over her clit, waiting for his body to react to the erotic sight.

  Nothing.

  He ground his teeth again. It seemed he was well and truly fucked in the most nonsexual way possible.

  That’s because you’re in love. And the woman you’re in love with chose your cousin.

  He lifted his gaze to the waitress’s face. “Sorry, Shelli. Not what you were hoping for, was it?” He dragged a hand through his hair. “Not what I was planning either, I have to say.”

  She studied him for a moment, eyes narrow, her teeth worrying the finger only seconds ago delving between her legs, and then shrugged, a smile stretching her lips. “No worries. Let me get my clothes and we can walk back to the resort.”

  An hour later, Luke left Shelli at her cabin door, her quick kiss and promise if he ever needed her to just call a taunting echo of his complete failure to be aroused by her. He made his way through the resort, heading for Aidan’s suite. Was this the way it was going to be for him now? Incapable of getting it up thanks to Kennedy Collins?

  He spent the rest of the day with Aidan and Mack in their waterfront bungalow, refusing to answer his cell whenever it rang. His friends cast him curious looks but neither said anything. Lunch came and went, Luke not even remotely starstruck when Nick Blackthorne and his fiancée arrived. He was too preoccupied with maintaining a jovial façade when he felt so far from jovial it wasn’t funny.

  The conversation was relaxed, all involved laughing and enjoying the moment, and yet, on a conscious level, Luke knew he was going through the motions. That d
eep down inside he was thinking of Kennedy, of what they’d shared, of what they’d had. When talk turned to the wedding tomorrow, Luke snapped himself out of his fugue—or at least attempted to—concentrating on his duties as best man.

  Best man.

  He let out a ragged sigh. He wasn’t the best man, was he? He was the also-ran man.

  First Rebound Guy, now Runner-Up Man. Talk about being a bloody failure.

  “You carry on this way at my wedding, Beaso, and I’ll thump the crap outta you.”

  He blinked, jerking his attention back to Aidan. His friend sat opposite him on the bungalow’s deck, his expression once again sympathetic. No one else was around, and Luke wondered how long he’d been zoned out. Long enough for Nick and Lauren to leave? Leaning forward, he reached for the beer bottle on the low table between them. “I’ll be okay.”

  “Didn’t peg you for being a gutless wonder.”

  Aidan’s statement stabbed at what little calm Luke was holding. “Shut the fuck up, Rogers.”

  Aidan laughed, his massive shoulders shaking. “Ah, mate. Tell me, why can you risk your life running into a burning house to rescue a bloody kitten but you can’t see you’re doing nothing but killing yourself now.”

  Luke stared at the bottle in his hand, his pulse a cannon in his ears. “She didn’t pick me,” he said, the low words tearing at his throat. “She picked Addison.”

  “So why has your cousin been calling you ever since you turned up here? To gloat? I don’t know the guy that well, but I don’t think that’s his style, is it?”

  Luke shook his head. “I don’t know what his style is. I thought I did but…” He didn’t say any more.

  “And that’s it, then? You’re going to roll over and show your belly? Fuck, mate, remind me when I get back from my honeymoon to apply for the captain’s job at the station, okay?”

  Luke flicked a glare at Aidan. “What do you mean?”

  Aidan raised his eyebrows. “Well you obviously haven’t got the balls to be in a position requiring courage and levelheadedness. Not if you’re going to wimp out on something as important as love.” He leant forward and plucked the beer bottle from Luke’s hand, his stare pinning. “Check your messages, fuck-knuckle. You might be surprised by what you hear.”

  Luke glared at his friend. And then pulled his phone from his back pocket and connected to his message service, playing the only message recorded on there.

  “Kennedy doesn’t want me, convict. She wants you.” Addison’s voice slipped into his ear. “And now you’ve fucked it up. She saw you leaving the resort with the waitress. If you don’t fix this, dickhead, I will. I may be a knight in shining armor, but you’re the hero. Or at least, you’re meant to be.”

  Luke’s heart slammed in his chest like a sledgehammer. He stared at Aidan, his lips tingling as his blood surged through his veins, his head roaring.

  Aidan stared back at him. “What?”

  He didn’t answer.

  Leaping to his feet, he ran for the bungalow’s door.

  “Oi! Beaso!” Aidan’s shout caught him just as his fingers wrapped around the doorknob. He turned, a distant part of his mind registering Mack, Nick and Lauren standing in the kitchen gaping at him.

  He ignored them, fixing Aidan with an impatient glare. “What?”

  His friend grinned. “Don’t forget my buck’s party tonight.”

  Luke grinned back. “Don’t worry. The stripper’s all lined up and ready to go.”

  And with that, he spun back to the door, yanked it open and ran out into the resort, every molecule in his body pushing him to move faster.

  He didn’t stop running until he reached Kennedy’s suite. Didn’t slow down. Didn’t care who he ran past or ignored.

  Kennedy had chosen him.

  Him.

  And then watched him leave with Shelli.

  Stopping at her door, he fixed his stare on its wooden surface and drew one long slow breath. And another.

  He needed to force his body to calm.

  Before he kicked the door down, charged into Kennedy’s room and swooped her into his arms.

  You don’t know what she’s going to say to you, Beaso. She could tell you to go to hell.

  He studied the door, the dark thought cold and bleak.

  “I won’t know until I talk to her, will I?” he muttered.

  Mouth dry, nerve endings on fire, he stepped closer to the door and knocked. Twice.

  Nothing happened.

  Luke stood still, waiting.

  The door didn’t open. There was no sound from inside.

  “Fuck.” He pulled his phone from his back pocket, scrolling through the list of missed calls. When had Addison left the message? Was Luke too late? Had his cousin already stepped in to fix—

  The door swung open. Just like that, Kennedy’s suite door swung open, and Luke’s throat squeezed shut.

  She stood on the other side of the threshold, her eyes wet and red.

  “Kennedy,” he began, but before he could say anything else, she shook her head, stepped forward and pressed her fingers to his lips.

  He stared down at her, wanting to wrap his arms around her body, to say sorry, to tell her he was in love with her. To kiss her and make love to her. Instead, he didn’t move. Every muscle in his body locked frozen.

  She gazed up at him, her expression haunted. “I slept with Addison on the beach.”

  Her confession cut him to the soul. “I know.”

  “But I knew, by the time… I knew before we were even finished he wasn’t who I wanted to be with.”

  Luke clenched his jaw.

  She caught her bottom lip with her teeth, her eyebrows knitting. “Did…did you have sex? With the waitress?”

  He shook his head. “I couldn’t. Not when the only woman I want to be with is you.”

  Kennedy closed her eyes. A tear slipped down her cheek. She turned away from him and lifted her arm, and it was only then that Luke noticed she held something small and black in her hand. A remote. The kind belonging to a sound system. She pointed the device into her suite and, with a slight press of her thumb music filled the air. A song.

  “…need a hero,” Bonnie Taylor cried from the speakers somewhere in Kennedy’s suite.

  The song may have kept playing. Luke didn’t know. Nothing existed except Kennedy grinning up at him, her tear-glistening eyes telling him exactly who the hero she was waiting for was.

  Him.

  He growled and destroyed the space between them, hauling her to his body and crushing her lips with his—lips he’d first claimed as his own four months ago.

  She groaned into his mouth, her arms wrapping around his shoulders, her hips pressing to his. Her tongue met his, fierce and hungry and demanding. He gave it back to her, his own tongue as greedy for her kiss as his cock was for her sex.

  He drove her back into her suite, lifting her from the floor as he kicked the door shut behind him. Their lips never parted, each devouring the other as Luke carried Kennedy across her suite, past the sofa into her bedroom.

  A distant part of his brain heard Bonnie Taylor still crooning about her hero and his stomach tightened. Hero. He was Kennedy’s hero. He would be her hero forever if she let him.

  He lowered her to the bed, her fingers tangling in his hair to draw him down with her. He complied, feasting on her lips as he slipped his hands under the loose cotton of her shirt and cupped her breasts.

  She moaned into his mouth, arching her back. Her breasts flattened under his palms, her nipples hard pebbles against his flesh. He pinched each one, loving the way she whimpered.

  Her hands raked at his shoulder, scoring his flesh through his shirt. It wasn’t enough. He wanted her skin on his, her sweat mingling with his.

  Tearing his mouth from hers, he straightened, yanked his shirt over his head and threw it aside.

  Kennedy’s smoldering gaze roamed his bare chest, her nostrils flaring as she sucked in a swift breath. “You are so goddamn gorgeous
.”

  He pressed a knee to the bed, smoothing his hands up her thighs. “So are you. But I think I’ve mentioned that a time or two.”

  She laughed. “I think you have.”

  His fingers reached the soft flesh of her inner thighs, and she shivered, closing her eyes. “Christ, I want you inside me,” she murmured.

  Luke leant closer to her. “Better get rid of these shorts then.” He hooked his fingers under the waistband of her shorts and pulled them down over her hips and legs before she could reply.

  The scent of her arousal filled his breath immediately, delicate and musky, and so bloody potent. He growled, burying his face in her sex.

  She hissed, her hips rising, her thighs parting. He swiped his tongue over her folds, the salty-sweetness of her juices like ambrosia.

  “Oh, fuck, you taste so good, babe,” he growled against her sex. “I could survive on your cream for days and days.”

  Kennedy whimpered, pushing her pussy upward. He flicked his tongue over the tiny button of her clit, rolled its form back and forth until her whimpers became moans and her moans became cries.

  “Luke,” she gasped, her breath ragged. “Fuck me. Please. I want you inside me. Now.”

  He lifted his head from her sex and smoothed a palm over the flat plane of her hitching belly. “Not yet.”

  He returned to her folds, laving her flesh, her clit, with his tongue. Sucking on the small nub until Kennedy writhed and bucked on the bed. “Luke…” she panted. “Luke, please…”

  The sound of her raw pleasure sent fresh blood surging to his already rigid cock. It throbbed in his trousers, demanding release. He gave it, unzipping his fly one-handed as he fucked Kennedy with his tongue.

  She whimpered again, her heels driving into the mattress, forcing her hips upward. He captured her clit with his teeth and nipped, her responding cry pumping new steel into his dick.

  His head swam, the need to bury himself in her tight heat overwhelming him. To make her his, totally and only his.