by Bella Andre
Before she knew it, he had pulled her onto his lap. “I don’t want to hurt you, Anna.”
He was so big and warm and hard beneath her thighs, against her chest, her hands. And when she was close to him like this, suddenly everything became so much clearer.
He hadn’t forced her to come here. He’d simply asked her to marry him and she’d agreed. Because, for the first time in her life, she wanted to see what it felt like to really live.
“You’re not hurting me, Cole. And you don’t need to apologize.”
“Good,” he said in that low, rough voice of his that heated her up beyond reason, “because I’d rather kiss you.” And then his mouth was on hers and her insides were lighting up like the Fourth of July.
“Sweet,” he murmured against her lips, between kisses. “Sweeter than sugar.”
Her body ached to get closer to his, to shift so that she wasn’t sitting sideways across his legs, but straddling him instead.
When he finally let her up for air, she had to say, “You taste good, too.”
“Nowhere near as good as you, Anna,” he said, his eyes still on her lips, which were throbbing from his passionate kiss.
“Kiss me again, Cole.”
She didn’t have time to take another breath before he was there, stealing it from her lungs, shifting her so that her breasts were pressed hard against his chest, her arms wrapped tightly around him.
It didn’t make any sense, not just being here in a wedding chapel with a man she hardly knew, but the fact that every cell in her body wanted to become part of him—and never, ever let go.
Every day, every minute of her life had made sense up until now.
And none of that sense had ever felt as good as this crazy did.
“Let’s get married, Cole.”
He stilled at her whispered request, before saying, “Anything for you, sweet Anna.”
From that point on, everything happened in a blur. Cole lifting her off of his lap, the two of them walking over to the counter hand in hand to fill out the paperwork, realizing that they both lived in San Francisco as they wrote out their addresses; listening to the officiant say, “Do you, Cole Taylor, take Anna Davis to be your lawfully wedded wife,” hearing Cole say “I do” in his low, rough voice; realizing she was being asked, “Will you, Anna Davis, take Cole Taylor to be your lawfully wedded husband?” and the words “I do” coming before she could let herself second-guess them; sliding the platinum band onto Cole’s ring finger; watching Cole slide the diamond ring onto her left hand as the words “I now pronounce you husband and wife” were spoken...
...and then kissing the stranger she’d just married.
* * *
Cole didn’t want to ever stop kissing Anna.
She was addictive, her taste, the feel of her soft curves, the breathy sounds of pleasure she made as he swept his tongue against hers and nipped at her full lower lip. Unfortunately, making out with his new wife to the sound of a throat clearing—loudly and repeatedly—wasn’t exactly what he had in mind for his wedding night.
Not that he’d ever thought about his wedding night.
Or ever pictured himself with a new wife.
His heart rate kicked up, the ring Anna had put on his finger feeling strange as the officiant said, “Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Taylor.”
Anna leaned closer into him as if she were trying to keep herself from falling. Fuck, he felt the same way even though getting hitched had been his idea, the perfect way to make sure Anna stayed with him at least long enough to meet his grandmother. And make her final wish come true.
Guilt knocked around inside his chest. At the same time, his dick was so hard he could pull it out and pound nails with it.
“Thank you,” Anna replied to the officiant and the witness, whom Cole guessed were probably a married couple themselves.
“You’re very welcome, honey.” She lowered her voice. “I shouldn’t be saying this, but after thirty years of owning Cupid’s, we’ve seen our fair share of couples come through our doors. Enough to know which ones are going to make it, and which aren’t.”
He could feel Anna’s intake of breath against his chest. “You can tell just from looking at the couple?”
Shit. Why hadn’t he dragged her out of the chapel as soon as the rings were on? If this woman told Anna that their marriage was doomed—not thirty seconds after closing the deal—Cole was going to be pissed. There were plenty of half-crippled football players out there who could vouch for the fact that it was never a good idea to piss off Cole Taylor.
“Oh yes. We certainly can,” the woman affirmed. “I can tell that you two are going to be among the lucky ones.”
“We are?”
He would have laughed at the surprise in Anna’s voice if he hadn’t been more than a little insulted by it. Why the hell had she married him if she didn’t think it was going to work out? He was the only one in this “relationship” with an ulterior motive, wasn’t he?
She couldn’t be that good an actress, could she? Hell, she was all but dripping innocence, and hadn’t so much as reacted to learning his full name. Then again, for such an innocent girl, it hadn’t exactly taken a hell of a lot of work to convince her to marry him.
Suspicion began to ride him as the woman said, “So many couples come in here on a spur-of-the-moment decision and just don’t have what it takes to make it. But you two.” She beamed at them. “I can almost see your bond. Strong and true. Real love. But you don’t want to spend your wedding night gabbing with an old lady. Not when I can see how much you both are looking forward to celebrating your marriage.”
Anna blushed furiously at the woman’s comment, but for Cole it was a welcome splash of truth. The true love stuff was all bullshit. But the woman was dead right about one thing.
If his cock got any harder, he was going to bust a zipper. He wanted Anna, and he wanted her now.
He took her hand in his. He’d never been a big hand-holder before now, not even with long-time girlfriends, but holding her hand in his felt so right, so natural. He led her out of the chapel and down the back streets he’d learned as a kid, back to the hotel.
The warm night air was a shock after the air-conditioned chapel, especially considering Cole already felt overheated. Not just because he’d gotten hitched. But because holding Anna close like this did something strange to his insides.
Taking the back door he used when he was trying to go unnoticed, they got on the special elevator that went up to the Wynn's penthouse. The doors were closing as she said, “Wait a minute. The button for my floor isn’t on here.” She frowned at the elevator wall. “Why is there only one button on this?”
He put in his key and turned it before pressing the button. “This elevator only goes to my suite. And someone can get your things later.”
Still clearly confused, she said, “It will just take me a few minutes to get them myself.”
But Cole was all out of patience. He’d wanted her from the first second he’d set eyes on her. He'd been burning for her from the first taste, the first touch. Their wedding had pushed him way the hell past the point of reason.
Five more minutes to get her things wasn’t an option.
Circling her waist with his hands, he dragged her into him.
“I don’t want to wait a few minutes, Anna. I want to have sex with my wife.” He all but growled the final word. “Now.”
Chapter Four
“I want to have sex with my wife.”
Wife. She was a wife.
Cole’s wife.
How she wished the words, Oh no, what have I done? were coming out of Carrie Underwood’s mouth right now via stereo speakers, instead of right between Anna’s ears.
At least, she thought with barely repressed hysteria, unlike the character in the country song, Anna knew Cole’s last name.
Even if she didn’t know much else.
Anna’s legs went weak. She needed to sit down, preferably with her head between her legs
and a brown paper bag over her mouth and nose.
But even though her legs had decided not to bother holding her up anymore, she wasn’t in any danger of falling. Not with Cole’s hands gripping her tightly around her waist, holding her so close it was almost as if he didn’t want to give her any room to think or breathe.
Or change her mind...and start running.
Desire was dark and possessive on his face as he said, “Do you have any idea what you do to me, Anna?”
By the end of the sentence, he’d lowered his head so that the final words were barely more than a hot breath against her mouth. But instead of another one of those drugging kisses that took away her breath and swept her up into him, his mouth was gentle against hers.
Anna shivered at the sensations caused by that brush of sensitive lips.
And what he’d said.
She wasn’t the kind of woman who spent hours looking into the mirror, searching for flaws or beauty. She looked like what she looked like. Plenty of people had called her cute, so eventually, that’s what she’d decided must be true.
But cute couldn’t possibly inspire a reaction like Cole’s, could it?
Equally confused as she was consumed by unfamiliar desire, Anna found herself whispering, “I want you, too,” against his mouth.
For the moment, desire was the one thing she was certain of. The one thing she could trust.
“Damn it, I’m not going to take you in the elevator,” Cole said as he pulled away from her. A split second later he was bending down and slipping an arm beneath her knees.
She was short, but not exactly stick-thin. No one had ever tried to pick her up before.
A thrill rushed through her at how effortless it was for Cole, at how protected—womanly—he made her feel.
Still, she wasn’t used to being swept off her feet by a man who easily weighed twice what she did. So even though she was excited—and aroused—by his actions, she was also a little bit scared. Because the truth was, he could do whatever he wanted to her, and she wouldn’t have a prayer if she tried to fight back.
Moisture shouldn’t be pooling between her legs at the shocking thought.
More than a little freaked out at the way her body seemed to be utterly disconnected from her brain—as barely rational as it was right now—she said, “Cole, what are you doing?”
God, she sounded like a shocked fifties movie star in a black-and-white movie, but she couldn’t help it. Nothing had gone like she’d thought it would tonight. She should be alone in bed right now wearing her flannel PJs, watching an old movie about a couple getting a quickie wedding in Vegas.
Instead, here she was, living the drama in full color.
Cole’s response came with a grin that took her breath away. “Enjoying the hell out of carrying my bride over the threshold.”
She couldn’t help but smile back. Cole was one of the best-looking men she’d ever seen, up close or in pictures. Gorgeous and forbidding. Dark and hulking.
But when he smiled...his smile made her insides light up like a beach bonfire.
“Keep looking at me like that and we aren’t going to make it past the front door.”
He wasn’t smiling anymore. Instead, he looked dangerous.
Sexy.
So sexy she wasn’t sure she wanted to make it past the front door.
“I’ve never had sex up against a door.”
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 ju
st 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 sentences shouldn’t be able to melt her insides, should they? Sure, when he was touching her, of course she melted. But just words—and that tone of voice—were doing just as good a job of arousing her as his kisses and caresses had.
His voice was gruff as he asked, “What about you?”
“I teach first grade.”
“That’s perfect.”
It was?
“My sweet little schoolteacher.”
His response struck her as strange, but she couldn’t figure out exactly why. Especially when he was still looking at her like he wanted to lick her all over, head to toe.
Her body was responding to that look with intense arousal. But at the same time, the more physically aroused she become, the more it seemed her brain—and heart—were fighting that desire. Back in the club, even before he’d proposed, Cole had made it perfectly clear that they were going to spend the night together. Obviously, now that they were husband and wife, it was a slam dunk.
Still, it seemed that there was a difference between knowing something was going to happen and actually being there when it happened.
