Game For Love(14)

The sound that came from his throat was half-growl, half-moan. "I wouldn't tease me right now, Anna." He kicked open the door.

"I'm not teasing."

And she wasn't. She was desperate.

Desperate for something she didn't understand.

Desperate for something she'd never felt before.

A heartbeat later, Cole had her back pressed into the now-closed door, her dress up around her waist and her legs wrapped around him. She didn't know how he'd done it, but she didn't care, not when the only thing that mattered was getting relief from the intense heat, the throbbing between her legs. She felt swollen and sensitive against him, where her underwear rubbed against the zipper of his pants.

His hands were wrapped around her butt cheeks and as he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her hard enough that it almost hurt, she couldn't stop herself from thrusting into the thick bulge. A moment later, his mouth was moving across her face, down to her neck and she was baring herself to him, submitting to his dominance in the most elemental of ways.

"Cole," she moaned, begging for more, for some relief from the exquisite pressure, the intense sensations building higher and higher.

And then she felt it, the brush of his hand against her inner thighs, and she whimpered her pleasure, biting her lip as 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?