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 f**k 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.