Free Club Cupid by Stephanie Bond

her eyes fluttered closed and a raspy moan of need escaped her mouth, he gritted his teeth against a surge of passion, then, admitting defeat, lowered his mouth to the silky contours of her collarbone.
    Angling her body under his, he lowered himself between her long legs, kneading the firm muscle at the back of her thigh beneath her rounded hip. He lapped at her pearly skin and nipped at pale freckles, kissing a trail down to her half-covered breast. Heady with longing, he pulled aside the thin fabric with his teeth, gratified when a rock-hard pink nipple popped into view.
    A torrent of heat gripped his loins as he pulled the salty tip into his mouth and bathed it with his fevered tongue. She drove her fingers through his hair, pressing him closer. A moan tore from her mouth, sending a vibration through her chest that he felt against his cheek.
    So absorbed was he in his sensual ministrations that when Frankie tensed beneath him, he thought she was merely straining into him. Then she shifted and pulled her hands from his hair, struggling to sit up. He fought his first instinct to pull her back to him.
    “Randy,” she said, breathing raggedly. “Your beeper…is going off.”
    He raised his head and bit his tongue against the disappointment sluicing through his body. Frankie looked…relieved? With a heavy sigh, he smoothed his hair back from his forehead, rolled over and reached for the offending mechanism.
    Frankie sat up, dragging herself backward with weak arms. She gulped for air to clear her fuzzy head, wincing at the pain zipping through her temples at the sudden shift from horizontal to vertical. A breeze swirled around her, cooling her uncovered breast, budding the nipple still wet from Randy’s tongue. Mortification over her behaviorflooded her. She yanked up the bikini top and secured the minuscule ties, then buttoned her shirt for good measure, despite her shaking hands. Thankfully the sand dune had ensured their privacy, although anyone could have stumbled across them.
    As Randy bent over the pager, she stared at his broad back and the mop of shaggy, sun-streaked hair. A stranger, in a strange place. What was she thinking? She’d known this man for scant hours, and she’d nearly gotten naked with him. She hadn’t been thinking, period. Frankie swallowed and pushed her fingers into her hair, her mind spinning. She scrambled to her feet, then, feeling naked, jerked up the towel and wrapped it around her waist, sand and all.
    Randy pushed himself to his feet and turned around, holding up the pager. “It’s the flower shop. Your money must have arrived.” His voice sounded a little hoarse, but his expression remained unreadable as he swept her covered figure with his eyes.
    She kept her gaze high to resist the impulse to see if he maintained his earlier state of arousal. Her hands felt awkward, so she hugged her arms and strove to look casual. “That’s g-good.”
    His chest expanded as he inhaled deeply, then his mouth formed a grim, straight line. “Considering where this situation was headed—” he gestured vaguely at the towel “—it was also very good timing.”
    No matter how close he’d come to the truth, heat climbed her neck at his presumption of her willingness to have sex with him. And why not? Hadn’tshe given him every reason to think she would? Just another in a long line of willing female tourists, no doubt.
    Shaken at her near lapse, Frankie squared her shoulders and assumed her most professional face. “Mr. Tate, I think it’s better if we say goodbye now. I’ll take a taxi to the florist’s. Now that I have money, I’ll be fine.” She stepped toward him, her toes sinking into the silky sand, and stuck out her hand. “Thank you for your, er, hospitality.”
    His eyebrows rose and he considered the hand she’d extended, not without amusement, she noticed. Frankie immediately regretted her action since her hand wasn’t exactly steady. She felt ridiculous, but still she waited.