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.
And there was definitely a difference between deciding she was going to be brave and actually being brave.
His eyes, still dark with desire, were fixed on her and she felt as if he saw all the way into her soul. It was too much, too soon. She tried to walk inside, but he grabbed her before she could take more than a step, and pulled her against him.
"You don't need to run from me, Anna."
Her breath was rising and falling too fast. "I don't want to run, but I don't know how to do anything else."
His mouth found hers and she tried to lose herself in his kiss the way she'd been lost in all the others, but panic was riding her too hard now to be able to let go. His hands moved down her back, rubbing, massaging from shoulder to hips, but instead of relaxing, she only tensed up more.
He lifted his head and she immediately said, "I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me."
"No apologies."
Grateful that he wasn't pressuring her into anything--even though she was now his lawfully wedded wife--she said, "I want--"
Oh God, she was such a novice at all of this that she didn't even know how to get the words out.