tremors of anticipation ran through her.
His fingers found her wet folds at the same moment that his mouth came down over one satin and silk-covered breast. Anna had never made sounds like this before--a cross between a scream and a moan, she was well and truly shocked at herself.
Shocked enough that she found herself pushing at Cole's chest with her open palms and gasping, "I can't. Not yet. Please."
Despite his own arousal, Cole's response to her abrupt shift was instantaneous.
Lifting his head from her breast, a large damp spot staining the center, he looked at her with honest concern. And no small measure of remorse.
"I was hurting you."
His completely unwarranted self-reproach tore at her heartstrings. "No, you weren't," she said, rushing to reassure him.
Yes, he'd been killing her, but not with pain.
With pleasure.
Not knowing how to explain what had happened, she finally said, "Everything is moving so fast."
And she'd been on the verge of begging him to fuck her. Her. Anna Davis.
Oh, God. Not Davis. Anna Taylor.
Cole put her down on her feet, helping to smooth her dress back over her hips. Looking down, she couldn't take her eyes off his erection. Even bound by his clothes, it was like a living, breathing thing between them.
A second later, she noticed the dark spot in front of his zipper and froze. Was the patch of fabric that she'd been pressed against actually damp? Had Cole really made her that wet--wet enough that she'd soaked through her underwear, all the way to his clothes, with nothing more than a kiss?
And his fingers sliding between her legs.
Her freak-out jumped to a whole new level.
As if he sensed her sudden fear, Cole took another step back. But even as he gave her some room to breathe, he threaded his fingers through hers.
"Come on in. I'll show you around."
For the first time since they'd come inside, she realized they were in a strikingly luxurious living room, with floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out on the Vegas strip.
"This is your hotel room?"
"Like it?"
"Are you kidding? It's amazing. Have you stayed here before?"
"Since they opened in 2006."
Every question she asked--and every answer he gave--only highlighted just how little she actually knew about the man she'd just married.
Married.
The diamond ring on her finger felt heavy and strange. Her throat tightening up around the words as if her body and mind were shutting down one piece at a time, she asked, "Do you always stay up here when you're at the hotel?"
"Usually. My things are all here," he replied with a thread of amusement in his voice, at odds with the concern still written on his face when he looked at her. "I'm going to get us a couple of drinks." He left her alone to let herself out of a sliding glass door onto a deck.
She could hardly believe her eyes. There was a huge swimming pool surrounded by a rooftop garden. The pool alone was almost bigger than her entire apartment. Renting it would be one thing--one amazing thing--but owning this penthouse suite?
No way.
She was too busy gaping--and wondering just how Cole had enough money for a place like this--to notice him returning from the kitchen.
He pressed a cold glass into her hands. "Drink that."
The liquid was sweet and sugary, just what she needed after a day of too much champagne and too little food. She drank until it was empty.
"Thank you."
"You looked pale."
She had? Was that why he'd been frowning? Because he was worried about her, rather than angry that she'd put a halt to having sex up against the door?
"I play football. It pays well."
Here she'd thought she was playing it cool, but he'd obviously read the question in her eyes.
Because she had the exact opposite of a poker face.
"I don't know much about football," she admitted.
"I guessed that," he said with another one of those heart-thumping grins.
"I'm a quick learner, though."
Heat reflected back at her from his dark eyes. "I'm glad to hear that. Very glad."
A couple of
His fingers found her wet folds at the same moment that his mouth came down over one satin and silk-covered breast. Anna had never made sounds like this before--a cross between a scream and a moan, she was well and truly shocked at herself.
Shocked enough that she found herself pushing at Cole's chest with her open palms and gasping, "I can't. Not yet. Please."
Despite his own arousal, Cole's response to her abrupt shift was instantaneous.
Lifting his head from her breast, a large damp spot staining the center, he looked at her with honest concern. And no small measure of remorse.
"I was hurting you."
His completely unwarranted self-reproach tore at her heartstrings. "No, you weren't," she said, rushing to reassure him.
Yes, he'd been killing her, but not with pain.
With pleasure.
Not knowing how to explain what had happened, she finally said, "Everything is moving so fast."
And she'd been on the verge of begging him to fuck her. Her. Anna Davis.
Oh, God. Not Davis. Anna Taylor.
Cole put her down on her feet, helping to smooth her dress back over her hips. Looking down, she couldn't take her eyes off his erection. Even bound by his clothes, it was like a living, breathing thing between them.
A second later, she noticed the dark spot in front of his zipper and froze. Was the patch of fabric that she'd been pressed against actually damp? Had Cole really made her that wet--wet enough that she'd soaked through her underwear, all the way to his clothes, with nothing more than a kiss?
And his fingers sliding between her legs.
Her freak-out jumped to a whole new level.
As if he sensed her sudden fear, Cole took another step back. But even as he gave her some room to breathe, he threaded his fingers through hers.
"Come on in. I'll show you around."
For the first time since they'd come inside, she realized they were in a strikingly luxurious living room, with floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out on the Vegas strip.
"This is your hotel room?"
"Like it?"
"Are you kidding? It's amazing. Have you stayed here before?"
"Since they opened in 2006."
Every question she asked--and every answer he gave--only highlighted just how little she actually knew about the man she'd just married.
Married.
The diamond ring on her finger felt heavy and strange. Her throat tightening up around the words as if her body and mind were shutting down one piece at a time, she asked, "Do you always stay up here when you're at the hotel?"
"Usually. My things are all here," he replied with a thread of amusement in his voice, at odds with the concern still written on his face when he looked at her. "I'm going to get us a couple of drinks." He left her alone to let herself out of a sliding glass door onto a deck.
She could hardly believe her eyes. There was a huge swimming pool surrounded by a rooftop garden. The pool alone was almost bigger than her entire apartment. Renting it would be one thing--one amazing thing--but owning this penthouse suite?
No way.
She was too busy gaping--and wondering just how Cole had enough money for a place like this--to notice him returning from the kitchen.
He pressed a cold glass into her hands. "Drink that."
The liquid was sweet and sugary, just what she needed after a day of too much champagne and too little food. She drank until it was empty.
"Thank you."
"You looked pale."
She had? Was that why he'd been frowning? Because he was worried about her, rather than angry that she'd put a halt to having sex up against the door?
"I play football. It pays well."
Here she'd thought she was playing it cool, but he'd obviously read the question in her eyes.
Because she had the exact opposite of a poker face.
"I don't know much about football," she admitted.
"I guessed that," he said with another one of those heart-thumping grins.
"I'm a quick learner, though."
Heat reflected back at her from his dark eyes. "I'm glad to hear that. Very glad."
A couple of
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