cute, standing there trying to figure out how to respond to his very forward question. He knew he wasn't being fair, playing with her like this, but it was so much fun.
He was having fun.
Cole Taylor didn't have fun. He was all business, all about crushing the competition.
Sure, he partied as much as the next rich, single, pro-football player, and of course he took the best-looking women in the world to bed, but it wasn't so much about having a good time as it was about taking his due.
And yet, standing in the middle of a Las Vegas nightclub with a woman whose name he'd only just learned--but whom he wanted more than any woman he'd ever met--Cole felt completely off his game.
The truth was, he was tired. It had been a long, frustrating day looking for a nice girl to take to his grandmother.
His dying grandmother.
"Cole? Are you okay?"
He blinked and looked into Anna's clearly concerned ocean eyes, felt something soft and warm on his forearm and realized she'd reached out to touch him.
Women looked at him in lots of ways--with dollar signs in their eyes, with lust, with anxiety when he was about to dump them--but never with concern.
Never like they actually cared about him.
"My grandmother is sick."
Shit, where had those words come from?
She moved even closer, put her other hand on him. "I'm so sorry."
He worked to swallow past the lump in his throat. "I am, too."
Together they stood like that for several moments, her comfort flushing through his veins, heading straight for his heart.
"Are you sure you'd still like to dance? Maybe we could find a quieter place and we could talk instead."
She was right. He didn't want to dance. But he didn't want to talk, either.
He wanted to kiss her.
He put his hands on her face, brushing his thumb against her lower lip. She went completely still, not blinking or even breathing as he lowered his face to hers. He didn't want to scare her and tried to go slow, even though all he wanted was to shove her against the nearest wall and wrap her legs around his waist as he sank into her wet heat.
Her breath was a sweet puff of heat against his mouth as he moved in to kiss her, her lips as red and tempting as plump berries in summertime. Cole liked kissing, always had, happy to spend plenty of time at first base even when most guys were already going for the home run. It was a bonus that kissing made chicks hotter, hornier.
But holy hell, no kiss had ever been like this. No kiss could have prepared him for Anna.
Her mouth was soft and so damn sweet, he lost track of his plans--forgot all about taking it slow and not scaring her. He had to taste her, had to run his tongue along the seam between her lips, from the center then out to first one corner and then the next. Hunger like he'd never known took him over, made him forget everything but the promise of pleasure.
A groan escaped as she opened up for him, her tongue tentatively finding his, a small stroke of sweetness that had him burning up head to toe. His hands slid up into her hair--so damn soft, he couldn't believe it--and his fingers tightened on her, pulling her closer.
She whimpered her pleasure into his mouth, the soft press of her curves against his hard muscles driving him crazy. His erection throbbed against her belly as he deepened their kiss, no longer able to be gentle, to worry about boundaries.
And then, suddenly, everything turned and she was the one kissing him.
Devouring him.
Her arms moved around his torso, her hands and fingertips all but scratching at him. Her tongue battled with his, her lips sucking at him, her teeth nipping and feasting on his mouth.
His kitten had turned into a lioness.
The club, the music, the overpowering scents of booze and sweat and perfume, all fell away as they made out in the middle of it all. She was heat and curves and pure sex in his arms and he knew if they'd been alone he'd be a heartbeat away from sinking into her, from taking everything she offered and giving her