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 everything she demanded.

Something flashed in the back of his head, something he was supposed to remember, something he was supposed to do, but he couldn’t follow it, not when he was utterly, hopelessly lost in Anna.

Sweet Anna.

Finally, she pulled away from him, gasping, her tongue coming out to lick at her swollen lips as if she were still trying to taste him.

“I’ve never done anything this crazy.”

Her words trembled with confusion—and so much desire—that his mouth found hers again a moment later and she was so sweet he knew it would kill him when he finally had to stop tasting.

Instinctively, Cole knew it wasn’t the champagne that made her taste like sugar. The sweetness was all her.

Grandma would love her.

The thought came at him blindside. He’d almost forgotten why he was here in the first place, why he’d picked her out of the crowd.

He didn’t know anything about Anna other than how good her body felt against his, how right her kisses were, how much he liked her scent, how hard she made him—and how perfectly she embodied the “nice girl” he was sure his grandmother wanted to see with him.

He hadn’t thought beyond finding someone to play the role he needed her to play, but now that he had, he was surprised to find guilt dogging his heels. He didn’t know Anna well enough to not want to hurt her.

And yet...his gut twisted at the thought of what he needed to do.

And he did need to do it.

Because he owed his grandmother everything.

It was that vision—of his grandmother, pale and frail in her hospital bed—that had him leaning into Anna, brushing her earlobe with his lips.

“Let’s do something really crazy, Anna.”

She shivered as his lips made contact with her lobe. Even though he knew he needed to be holding focus, that his goal was the most important thing here, not how much he wanted pretty Anna, he had to pull her earlobe between his teeth and nip at it.

So perfectly, incredibly responsive to his every touch, Anna arched into him, her full, hard-tipped breasts practically searing him through her dress and his shirt, another whimper of need, of desire sounding from her lips.

“So sweet,” Cole murmured against her soft skin as he ran his mouth down her neck, his tongue dipping into the hollow of her shoulder bone. Her breasts, full with arousal, pressed up and out toward his mouth from the neckline of her pink dress. He was half a breath away from unzipping her dress right then and there so that he could swirl her nipples against his tongue, when the crash of a glass at the bar pulled him back into the here and now.

Her eyes were cloudy with desire, only partially focusing as she said, “What could be crazier than this?”

Jesus, he’d completely forgotten about his question, about where he was going with it.

Again.

How was one tiny woman—a woman who wasn’t even his type, for fuck’s sake—turning his brain, and body, completely inside out?

Needing space, needing air to get his brain to function again, he made himself move back an inch from her curves, from her warmth. But all that did was make it easier for him to look at her. She was so pretty—and so damn pure despite the way she’d been kissing him like a wildcat in heat—that his stomach twisted even as he said, “What’s the craziest thing you can think of doing with me tonight?”

The club was dark, but not dark enough that he could miss the flush across her cheeks, or the way the heated vee between her thighs shifted closer to his rock-hard erection in an dance as old as time.

The smile curved his lips before he realized it. “Don’t worry, baby, we’re definitely going to be doing that, regardless of your answer.”

She licked her lips. Her sweet, plump, cherry-red lips. “I don’t—” She shook her head, her shoulder-length brown hair moving across her shoulders. “I wasn’t going to say—”

“You do,” he countered, “and you were.” Dropping his lips back down over hers, he said,

“But since that’s a given, what other kind of crazy have you got for me?”

Her fingertips tightened on his shoulders. “You and me doing ... it’s a given?”

“Yup.”

“But we just met.”

“Lucky us.”

He was glad to hear a surprised little giggle escape her lips, but then, too soon, she was back to her arguments.“I don’t do things like this.”

“I know you don’t.”

She frowned and, without thinking, he reached up to brush away the lines between her eyes. He wanted to see her smile, not frown.

“How?”

Her soft skin against his fingertips had him losing his train of thought. Hell, how could he possibly think without any blood left in his brain? Not even close to knowing what she was asking, all he could do was echo, “How what?”

“How do you know I don’t do things like this?”

“I just do.”

Her full lips pressed together. Shit, that wasn’t the right answer.

“Because I look boring.”

“Hell, no.” A little bit of spark came back into her eyes, enough to tell him that he was heading in the right direction again. Thank God. “You’ve been anything but boring.”

She cocked her pretty head to one side, the hair brushing against her shoulder blades, making him wonder what it would feel like brushing over his dick as she blew him, sixty-nine position.

“But you’re surprised by that, aren’t you?”

Jesus, he thought as he corralled his brain back to the conversation, what was this?

Twenty-fucking-questions?

A lie lay on his tongue, whatever she wanted to hear, but what came out instead was, “A little, yeah.”

“I knew it.” Her victorious expression disappeared as quickly as it came. “Tell me why you’re so surprised.”

The first words that came into his head were, “You were wearing a halo.”

He nearly groaned at the stupidity of blurting that out when he saw her outraged expression.

“A halo?” She actually reached up to the top of her head, as if she needed to make sure that she did not, in fact, have a halo hanging over her soft brown curls.

“No,” he said, trying to backpedal as fast as he could, “not a halo. You definitely weren’t wearing one of those.”

He needed to change the subject, get them back to ... Hell, what had they been talking about?