Sunset In Central Park

by Sarah Morgan

  “Hell, no.” He scooped her into his arms again and carried her deep into the cave, holding his phone out for light. “Which do you prefer? Grainy sand or sharp rocks?” His voice echoed and rocks glimmered and gleamed in the dim light.

  “You make it sound so erotic.” But there was a tremor in her voice, and her breath was warm on his neck. “Matt—” she sounded breathless “—what if we lose track and drown?”

  “I’m a great swimmer.” He lowered her until her feet touched the sand. Then he drew her top over her head and pushed it into his pocket.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I don’t want to risk the tide washing it away and having to explain to the locals why Frankie Cole is walking along Main Street topless.”

  “If I’m taking my shirt off, so are you.” She tugged roughly and buttons flew. “Oops.”

  “You’re an animal.” Laughing, he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. He felt her fingers fumbling with his zip and moaned as she dropped to her knees in front of him. “Frankie—”

  “I’ve never done this before so if I do it wrong, you’ll have to tell me.”

  He braced his hand on the rock in front of him, his breath leaving his body in a hiss as she drew him into the soft warmth of her mouth. “Holy shit—”

  “Am I hurting you?”

  “No.”

  “Are you sure? Because I heard you moan.”

  He dropped his head onto his arm. “It was a good moan.”

  “Oh—” She sounded smug. “In that case there are a few other things I’d like to try—”

  He was about to ask what other things but then she did something with her tongue that wiped coherent thought from his brain.

  He tightened his fingers on the rock, the sharp edges digging into his palm. Sensation rushed toward him like a wave and he swore under his breath and eased away from her.

  “What’s wrong?” She sounded breathless and he had to force the words from his mouth.

  “Nothing’s wrong.” It was a struggle to speak. “Just give me a minute.”

  She rose to her feet and he wrapped his arm around her waist and hauled her close, burying his other hand in her hair. He’d never wanted anyone the way he wanted her.

  Sealing his mouth over hers, he dragged her jeans down over her legs and helped her wriggle out of them. Then he closed his hands over her bottom, feeling warm bare skin under his palms. All that was left between him and her was skimpy, silky underwear that proved no barrier at all.

  She gasped against his lips. “Eva bought me that underwear you just ripped.”

  “Great choice. I approve.”

  She laughed, breathless. “You didn’t even see it.”

  “No, but it came off easily and that’s the main thing.”

  Her laugh turned to a whimper as he slid his hand between her legs.

  “Matt—”

  He trailed the tips of his fingers over the silken seam of her flesh and then slid deep. Her fingers dug hard into his hair and her breathing fractured.

  “Oh, God—now—please—I don’t want to wait—”

  Still kissing her, he fumbled in his pocket for his wallet and she gave a murmur of protest that he smothered with his mouth.

  “I’m trying to protect you.”

  “Oh—”

  He could tell from her tone that she’d forgotten about that. He could easily have forgotten, too, if it hadn’t been for the fact that protecting Frankie was big on his agenda. He never, ever wanted to hurt her.

  He paused long enough to deal with the condom and then lifted her so that she straddled him.

  She licked at his lips and trailed her tongue over his jaw. “If you drop me, I’ll kill you.”

  “I lift concrete slabs on a daily basis. I think I can manage to hold one fragile female without having an accident.”

  “Fragile? You think I’m fragile?”

  “I think parts of you are fragile.” He smothered her words with his mouth, shifted the angle of her body and entered her in a long, smooth thrust. Engulfed by the silky smooth heat of her, he closed his eyes. “Am I hurting you?”

  “No! God, no—” She tried to move but he was the one in control, and he kept his mouth on hers and his hands locked on her hips as he drove into her.

  This time there was no slow, drawn-out seduction, just a fast, frantic slaking of need.

  He felt the first ripples of her orgasm tighten on his shaft and thrust deeper, hearing her cry out as they both reached that peak at the same time.

  Slightly dazed, he lowered her carefully to the sand.

  She rested her head against her chest. “We just had cave sex.”

  “I know.”

  “Standing up.”

  “I know.” He stroked his hand through her hair. “And if you don’t stop talking about it, it’s going to happen again.”

  She lifted her head. “I want it to happen again, but not here.”

  “Where? In the back of the car? Up a tree? Name it. Happy to help.”

  “You’ve had sex up a tree?”

  “No, but for you I’d manage it. Tarzan, remember?”

  She was laughing. Breathless. “Let’s go back to the cabin.”

  He didn’t argue.

  Chapter Thirteen

  A wedding is an excuse to have your cake and eat it.

  —Paige

  Frankie slept deeply and woke late. If she’d been in her apartment back home in New York, she would have woken to the honking of horns and the wail of police sirens, but here on the island all she could hear was the sound of the waves breaking onto the rocks. She lay there in the delicious fog between wake and sleep, savoring the peace.

  Matt’s arms were locked around her and her legs were trapped between his.

  Moving would have meant waking him, so she stayed still and that suited her just fine.

  It should have felt strange, waking up next to a man, but it didn’t.

  She examined that thought for a few minutes and came to the conclusion that the reason it didn’t feel strange was because it was Matt. Yesterday when she’d arrived she’d felt nothing but stress and tension. Somehow it had all seeped away.

  She’d had sex. Amazing, mind-blowing sex. And she’d done it again and again, not just in the bed but on a beach.

  In a moment he’d wake, and she had every intention of repeating the experience. She studied his face in minute detail, pondering on what the dark stubble on his jaw would do to her sensitive skin.

  She couldn’t wait to find out.

  Her phone lit up on the nightstand and she gingerly reached for it, trying not to wake him.

  There was a text from Eva. A single word.

  Well?

  Knowing exactly what she was asking, Frankie grinned and texted back.

  Well what?

  Are you on your own in bed?

  Frankie hesitated. This part she could share, couldn’t she?

  No.

  A few seconds later her screen lit up again.

  OMG!!! Random stranger or Matt?

  “I hope you’re not spilling our secrets to my sister.” Matt’s voice was sleepy and sexy and she turned her head, guilty.

  “It’s Eva. She wanted to know if we shared a room. I hate lying. Do you mind?”

  “The fact that you hate lying is one of the things I like about you, remember? And they’ll drag the information from you at some point so it might as well be now.”

  She put the phone back on the nightstand and snuggled closer. “What else do you like about me?”

  “You want a list?

  “Maybe. A short one.”

  He shifted so that he was on top of her. “I love your hair.”

  “Oh, please—you start with my hair?”

  “I love it.” He slid his fingers through her curls. “I love your freckles—”

  “You’re picking all the things I’m supersensitive about!”

  “We’re not talking about the things you like, we’re
talking about the things I like.” He lowered his head and kissed her. “I love that you’re so honest.”

  “Blunt.”

  “Honest. I like it.” His expression grew serious. “I love that you’d come here, to a place that scares you, just because you wanted to support your friend. I love that you offer to stay in the apartment with her, even though you like your own space—”

  “She told you about that?”

  “Paige did. I love how smart you are, I love your sense of humor—”

  “Do you love the fact that I’m a sex addict?”

  “That’s the best part.” He kissed her and she laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck.

  “You’re entirely responsible for that flaw.”

  “If it’s a flaw, I’m happy to take the blame for that one.” He kissed her and she felt her body melt. “How do you do it?”

  With a groan he lifted his mouth from hers. “How do I do what?”

  “Make me want you like this? I’m desperate. Again.”

  “I think you have a lot of sexual energy to use up. I’m happy to help you out.”

  “Your generosity is one of your best qualities.” She gasped as he slid his hand under her bottom. “Do we have to go to this wedding?”

  He stilled. “You don’t want to?”

  “I’m scared. I admit it. So far we’ve bumped into a few people and they’ve all been welcoming, but half the island is going to show up to this wedding. What if someone says something to me?”

  “I hope plenty of people will say things to you. Things like ‘great to see you back on the island, Frankie’ and ‘good to meet you.’” He lowered his forehead to hers. “Nothing bad is going to happen, sweetheart.”

  The endearment made her heart turn over. “You don’t know that.”

  “I do. I’m going to be there with you the whole time. If anyone so much as looks at you the wrong way, I’ll drop them headfirst in the ocean.” His blue eyes gleamed. “You know I can be a bit overprotective. It’s one of my flaws. I’m working on it.”

  “A bit overprotecive? Matt, I’ve watched you with Paige. You could get a part-time job as a bodyguard.” She teased him, but deep down she loved that side of him. As someone whose parents had never given much thought to protecting her from anything, it felt surprisingly good to be with someone who cared how she was feeling.

  “It’s different with Paige. She’s my sister. It was my job to keep her out of trouble, whereas with you—” he shifted position so that he was cradled between her thighs “—with you my purpose is to get you into as much trouble as possible.”

  “I had no idea you had such a bad side, Matt Walker.”

  “I keep it hidden.” He eased into her and she moaned as she felt the thickened thrust against sensitive flesh.

  “How long am I going to feel this way? When am I going to get bored?”

  He lowered his mouth to hers and she felt him smile against her lips. “Never,” he murmured, “as long as I have anything to do with it.”

  Somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind a tiny part of her knew this was too good to be true; but what he was doing to her, what he was making her feel, drowned out the voice of anxiety. Swamped by sensation, she closed her eyes and went with the fairy tale.

  Matt stood under the hard jet of the shower and closed his eyes. He would have dragged Frankie into the shower with him had it not been for the fact that he needed a few moments to pull himself together. He’d wanted her to open up to him, and she had. And the fact that she’d trusted him enough to do so had somehow deepened the intimacy. He’d been stunned by her response, but what had shocked him more was the strength of his own. He didn’t think his feelings for her could go any deeper, but it seemed he’d been wrong about that.

  What would happen when they were back in New York? Back to their regular lives?

  He wanted to freeze time and keep her here, insulated from the outside world. He was almost tempted to skip the wedding. He would happily have spent the rest of his life holed up in this cabin with Frankie. The rest of the world could go to hell as far as he was concerned.

  “Matt—” Frankie stood in front of him, his phone in her hand “—it’s Ryan.”

  Feeling guilty at being caught in the middle of contemplating ways of getting out of attending his friend’s wedding, Matt reached for a towel and took the phone from her.

  Distracted by the tiny dip at the base of Frankie’s throat, he listened as his friend outlined the problem. “I’m sorry. That’s bad news.” Struggling to focus, he averted his eyes. “So you’re going to fly to the mainland? How long will that take? No, that’s no problem, we’ll wait here until you text us.” He ended the call and Frankie looked at him expectantly.

  “What’s happened?”

  He reached out and pulled her against him, kissing the smooth, pearl-like skin at the base of her throat. “We have another couple of hours in bed.”

  “That sounds good.” She slid her arms around his neck. “Any particular reason?”

  “Ryan and Emily have a mini wedding crisis.” He moved her hair to one side and kissed her neck, breathing in the scent of her. “The florist has appendicitis and was flown to the mainland in the night. Unfortunately, she took the key to the store with her so there is no way of getting the flowers. They’re delaying the wedding a couple of hours to give Zach time to fly across to the mainland and get the key.”

  “It’s going to take hours to fly there, and what if she’s in surgery and they have to hang around?”

  “I guess that’s a chance they’re going to have to take. They don’t have a lot of options.”

  There was a protracted silence and then she eased away from him reluctantly and took a deep breath. “I’ll do the flowers.”

  Knowing how much she hated weddings, it hadn’t even occurred to him to ask her. “You?”

  “It’s their wedding day! They want it to be perfect. I’ll do it. Call Ryan back.” She stepped away, as if she didn’t trust herself not to change her mind. “If I can’t get access to the store, then I’m going to need to raid someone’s garden.”

  “Frankie—” He knew that this was a big deal for her. Part of him wanted to explore the change in greater depth but they didn’t have the luxury of time. “Are you serious?”

  “I never joke about weddings, Matt.” Her wry humor made him smile.

  “In that case I’ll call Ryan back.” He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her hungrily. “I hope he appreciates the sacrifice I’m making.”

  “Stop distracting me!” She pushed at his chest. “Call him. And some clues as to what the bride is wearing would be good.”

  Matt made the call, half his attention on his friend and half on Frankie. She ignored the green silk jumpsuit she’d already laid out on the bed and instead pulled on a pair of yoga pants that fitted her like a second skin.

  Her hair was still damp from the shower she’d had before him, and she pulled it into a ponytail and grabbed her purse. “Well?”

  “Ryan doesn’t know what she’s wearing. Apparently, it’s a closely guarded secret, but he thinks Brittany will know. And in the meantime Kirsti is sending out a text to all the islanders asking for access to their gardens. They have a system that they use in an emergency where they can text everyone. Islanders with flowers in their gardens are all responding to Ryan, and he’s emailing me a list so that you can take your pick.”

  “You’re telling me the islanders are giving me permission to trespass on their property and pick their flowers?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Has he told them it’s me? Frankie Cole?”

  “They know and I’m sure they’re just hoping you can fix this problem for Emily and Ryan. What do you need apart from flowers?”

  “I don’t know—I—something to tie the flowers together. And I need to pack this wedding outfit because if I’m wearing yoga pants in the photos Eva and Paige will kill me.”

  “I’ll put it in the
car and we can change once we’ve done the flowers.” He checked his email. “Take a look—some of them have already replied and listed the flowers they have.”

  She scanned the contents of the emails while she slid her feet into her shoes. “Brittany and Zach—is that the same Zach who flew us in?—they seem to have a well-stocked garden. Wait a minute—is that Brittany Forrest? Kathleen’s granddaughter?”

  “Yes. We can be at Castaway Cottage in ten minutes.”

  Matt hung their clothes in the back of the car, drove along the track that led out of the camp and took the road that led to the north of the island.

  “I haven’t had time to tame my hair. I’m going to look as if I’ve been in an explosion. Eva and Paige are definitely going to kill me. I was supposed to look groomed and elegant.”

  “You look sexy and gorgeous. The sort of woman a man might be tempted to drag into a cave for hot sex.”

  “Yeah?” She shot him a lingering look. “That’s a look I’m not familiar with.”

  And he wasn’t familiar with the slow, sexy smile she gave him. “That smile suits you. Want to pull over and try forest sex?”

  “Focus! We only have a couple of hours and if you start talking about sex I won’t be able to concentrate. You know weddings don’t bring out the best in me. How many bridesmaids? Flower girls?”

  “How would I know? I’m a guy.”

  “If I’m making hand-tied bouquets, I need to know the number.” She pulled a notepad out of her bag and made a few sketches.

  He realized that she was focusing on the flowers instead of feeling nervous about the wedding and being back on the island.

  Castaway Cottage was a pretty clapboard beach house, and the front door was already open as Matt pulled up.

  The ugliest dog he’d ever seen ran out to greet him.

  “Jaws! Get back in here now!” A female voice bellowed through the doorway and Matt walked forward with a grin.

  “Hi, Brittany.”

  “Matt!” She gave him a warm hug, followed by an anxious look. “Can you fix this? This is Em’s big day and we wanted everything perfect. We need a miracle.”

  “I’ve brought you a miracle, and her name is Frankie.” He turned to find Frankie on her knees making a fuss of the dog, who rolled at her feet in ecstasy.