The Garrisons: Parker, Brittany & Stephen: The CEO's Scandalous Affair

She arched with a soft gasp, marble at her back, man at her front. “You can taste me.”

With a groan of pleasure deep in his chest, he took his kisses lower, suckling her throat, licking her collarbone, then nibbling down to her breast. She twisted under his tongue, digging her fingers into his hair to guide his head from one breast to the other.

He gently squeezed both breasts, using his tongue to wipe water and flesh, then sucking each nipple with his eyes closed, as though it were the sweetest treat he’d ever enjoyed. She watched him, shaking, marveling, rolling as her insides twisted into an aching knot of pressure and pleasure.

“Parker,” she moaned. “Please.”

Straightening, he placed his knees between hers, easing her legs wider, opening her to him.

“What else can I do, Anna?” His voice was rough, with just a hint of tease and humor in the rasp.

He could do anything he wanted. Anything. Everything. And yet, the man who always had control gave her the power.

The thought made her dizzy as she flattened her hands over the soaking-wet hair on his chest, then slowly lowered them, loving every ripped muscle and the smooth flesh that covered them. Finally, she touched him, closing her hands over the velvet skin and sighing at how wonderfully shaped, how completely masculine he was.

She stroked him once and he grew even harder in her palms. She coiled her fingers around the length of him, considering all the things they could do to each other, but wanting only one.

She looked up at him, seeing him through the soft white clouds of steam, his expression intense, his eyes smoky.

“Make love to me, Parker.”

The tiniest smile tugged at his mouth. “I thought you might say that,” he said, reaching to a shelf above her head.

He tore the condom foil with ease and she took it from him, sliding it over him.

His eyes shuttered as he rose to meet her touch. Then his strong, sure hands gripped under her arms and pushed her up the slippery marble so he could enter her.

Just as he did, he covered her mouth with a ferocious kiss, thrusting his tongue and manhood inside her at exactly the same time, filling her completely.

Their delighted, desperate groans echoed off shower walls, rolled in the mist and gurgled with the water, both of them lost with each single-minded thrust of man against woman.

Shocked by the power of it, she wrapped her legs around his waist, locked her arms around his neck and rode him. Water blinded her now, so she buried her face in his shoulder, inhaling the smell of sex and soap and salt, her body coiling with achy pleasure.

Over and over, he ground out her name, pinning her to the wall, plunging as far into her as he could go, taking them both higher and higher to the unavoidable edge.

And finally she fell, digging her teeth into his skin, spiraling out of control and vaguely realizing that he was falling at the same time, filling her, needing her, loving her.

The steam clouds cleared as they slowly, carefully slipped down the side of the shower to the floor, staying connected in that most intimate place as Anna remained on his lap, her legs like a vise around his waist.

The position brought them face-to-face, as he kissed her cheek, her neck, her eyes, her mouth, neither of them able to catch their breath.

“Whatever you do,” he whispered, “don’t even think about singing.”