Misplaced Hands: 4 (Foreign Affairs) by Lexxie Couper, Mari Carr

sucking pressure of his mouth.
    Her fingers fumbled with her cell, forcing her to stretch farther forward. Keith continued to suckle, his deep moan of appreciation vibrating through her just as Marc’s lips found the small of her back.
    “O-oh God, you guys,” she stammered, her body reacting to their wicked ministrations even as she snared her phone in a desperate grip. “You really know how to…”
    The words died as she read the last text her brother had sent.
    I know you’re not at a conference, Harper. I just don’t know where you are. If you don’t answer my text within five minutes I’m contacting the FBI and telling them you’ve been abducted.
    “Crap,” she whispered, Keith’s and Marc’s mouths on her body forgotten, “this is so not good.”
    “What’s going on, love?” Marc asked.
    She flinched, aware both men were now watching her.
    Marc narrowed his eyes. “I can’t tell if you’re scared or pissed off.”
    She flicked her gaze back to the phone, a distant part of her mind noting it was 7:58 a.m.
    Almost eight o’clock Thursday morning in Australia, which made it five o’clock Wednesday night back home.
    “Harper?”
    Keith’s voice made her lift her head. “Andrew knows I’m not in Chicago. He’s a bit…angry.”
    “What do you mean, ‘knows you’re not in Chicago’?” Keith frowned. “Why wouldn’t he know you’re here?”
    “I didn’t tell him.” She slid her gaze to Marc. “I told you he was overprotective.”
    Keith’s eyebrows rose. “You didn’t tell him you were coming to Farpoint?”
    She ran her hand through her hair. “I didn’t tell him I was coming to Australia.”
    Marc burst out laughing. “Bloody hell, love. You like to live dangerously.”
    “I’ve never done anything like this be—” The loud ding from her cell prevented Harper finishing. She dropped her stare to the new text on the screen.
    Three minutes, Harper.
    She looked up at Keith and Marc, a frown knitting her eyebrows. “Err…I really need to text my brother.”
    Keith’s gaze was level. “Text?”
    “He’s angry. I can tell. I’m not going to talk to him when he’s angry.”
    “And I think that’s our cue to get out of bed, Blue.” Marc spun his legs over the side of the mattress and stood. “We’ve got work to do anyway. Can’t believe we slept in this long. Hunter’s going to kill us.”
    Completely naked, he walked to the foot of bed, his ass cheeks bunching and flexing with sublime perfection, and scooped his clothes from where he’d deposited them the night before. If Harper weren’t so damn worried about Andrew discovering her whereabouts, she’d toss her cell aside, crawl down the bed and wrap her fingers around his very impressive morning erection.
    “Are you sure you’re okay, darl’?”
    She turned back to Keith, finding him perched on the side of the bed, studying her. Concern in his eyes.
    “I’m okay, honest.” She wriggled her cell. “Just got a big brother to deal with is all. Will I see you both after school today?”
    Keith nodded. “Yep. We’re finishing off the south mob for drenching today. It’ll be a little later than normal. We thought we might take you into Cobar for dinner at the pub. What do you think?”
    Her cell dinged again. She jumped, dropping her stare to its small screen.
    Two minutes, Harper.
    The bed shifted and she looked up at Keith, now standing—just as naked and erect as Marc. “Pick you up later tonight, darl’,” he said, placing his hat on his head. “’Round sixish.”
    “’Kay.”
    He turned from the bed, snatched his jeans from the air as Marc tossed them at him and strode from the room, his tight, naked butt making Harper’s pussy constrict. Oh man, she’d held that butt in her hands last night. Hell, she’d licked that butt. And Marc’s.
    “Havagood day, love,” Marc said, fixing his own hat on his head, his jeans, shirt and boots tucked under his arm. “See you tonight.”
    He followed Keith