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

      She had to get the subject changed, fast.

      “In fact,” he continued, “I’m more determined than ever to find the leak.”

      She had to get him off course.

      “And with the change in my father’s—”

      She reached up and pressed her lips to his cheek. He froze, then slowly turned toward her. “What are you doing, Miss Cross?”

      “What do you think I’m doing, Mr. Garrison?”

      He broke into a slow, sexy smile. “What did you call me?”

      She lifted her face in invitation, forming the words she knew would derail his train of thought. “Mr. Garrison.”

      He closed his mouth over hers instantly, kissing her exactly the way he did everything… thoroughly, expertly, with masterful control and brilliant timing.

      Parting her lips, she allowed his tongue to explore her mouth. Chills and heat warred over her skin as he glided his hands over her bare back, burrowing his fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck.

      She tilted her head, and he deepened the kiss, a tender moan vibrating his chest. He pulled her closer and murmured her name against her mouth.

      “Let’s go back to the hotel,” he whispered in the kiss. “Now.”

      Okay, she had definitely changed the direction of the conversation.

      He stood, pulling her into him. “I want you,” he told her, confirming that with a full-body press that left no doubt he was aroused.

      She melted into the kiss, torn by a secret delight that she’d caused that hard ridge against her stomach, and the secret horror that he’d find out why.

      She inched back, catching her breath. “Parker… I…”

      “Unless you’d rather talk business some more,” he said with a playful kiss on her nose.

      “Not on your life,” she said. And, God knows, she meant it.

      Four

      When Anna sent a signal, she made it crystal clear.

      Somehow, Parker knew that would happen. He knew if he bided his time, easing her slowly into a comfortable, sensual, intimate place, she would give him the go-ahead to take that kiss he’d been thinking about all night.

      He’d been fighting arousal since she’d opened the door—hell, since he’d found her in the bathroom the other day. Every dance made him want to touch more; every time she laughed or asked a question, leaned gently against him or just sent him a subtle look of pure lust, his jaw slackened for some mouth-to-mouth contact with hers.

      He thought he’d imagined the occasional admiring glance in the past, but tonight, Anna’s defenses were down. And her interest was up. Way up.

      “The limo’s right over there,” he said, nudging her in that direction. “We don’t need to stay a minute more.”

      A glimmer of uncertainty lit her eyes.

      “Unless you want to,” he said, placing one finger on her chin to turn her face to him. He trailed that finger down her throat, into the dip between her collarbones, and then lower, barely touching, barely skimming her flesh.

      Her eyelids fluttered and her lips parted.

      “It’s entirely up to you,” he added, dropping close to her ear to whisper the words and nibble her lobe.

      She arched slightly with a quick breath. Then she closed her eyes and nodded so slightly, he almost missed it. With a firm hand on her back, he walked toward the waiting limo, and addressed the driver.

      “We’ll go directly to the Ritz, John,” he said as he climbed in the car behind Anna. Although it might be fun to play in the limo while they tooled around London for an hour, he didn’t want her in a car. He wanted to get her back to the suite and directly in his bed.

      He would, however, have to keep her warm on the way back.

      Settling in next to her, he offered champagne, but she declined. He touched a button and filled the car with the soft strains of Andrea Bocelli’s new-millennium version of classical music and her eyes sparkled.

      “I love this music.”

      “You love music, I noticed.”

      She smiled. “Broadway tunes are my favorite, actually.”

       “West Side Story?”

      Even in the dim light of the car, he could see her flush. “I’m sorry about that, again.”

      “I’m not. Use the shower in there whenever you like. Leave the door open.” He curled an arm around her and feathered her hair with a kiss. “I liked the view.”

      “But not the song.”

      He laughed and moved his mouth to lightly kiss her cheek. “Your heart was into it, that’s all that matters to me.”

      She turned to him, her face suddenly very serious, the laughter gone from her eyes. “My heart’s into everything that I do,” she assured him. “Even my work.”

      “Good,” he murmured, inching closer to her mouth, not thinking too hard about the sincerity in her eyes. His mind was not on work at the moment. “I like that in a woman.”

      He kissed her again, working to keep it light and easy, but hot and hard was winning the battle. He tunneled his fingers into her hair and found the comb that held it in place. In one twist of his wrist, her hair tumbled.

      He finger-combed it, inhaling the sweet fragrance, gliding his tongue over her teeth. She leaned her head back against the seat so he could kiss the tender skin of her throat and nibble his way into the V of her dress.

      She tasted sweet and hot and smooth.

      Unable to stop himself, he slid one hand from her nape, down the halter strap to the tender, precious curve of her breast, covering her easily. Instantly, her nipple pebbled against his palm, firing a blast of lava-hot blood through him, pulling groans of pleasure from both their throats.

      “Parker.” She sighed, lifting herself just enough to let him know she enjoyed the touch.

      “Glad we’re back on a first-name basis,” he teased, dragging his hand along the tight fit of her waist, over her hip and finding the slit that had called to him all night.

      His hand hit flesh and her whole body shivered. He chuckled softly into another kiss. “Look what I found,” he whispered, tracing the tight thigh with one fingertip, inching higher to torture both of them.

      Another moan of delight shuddered through her. He quieted that with a long, wet, hungry kiss, opening his hand to caress the taut muscle of her thigh. His fingers moved higher, over velvety skin, anxious just to touch her once. Just to feel how creamy she was. Expertly, he ran his thumb once over the silky nub of her panties, eliciting a soft gasp in their kiss.

      “Maybe we should take the long way back,” he suggested, taking one more featherlight stroke over the damp silk between her legs.

      Slowly, easily, she closed her fingers over his wrist and slid his hand away.

      “Too fast?” he asked. “Too much? Too soon?”

      The fire in her eyes said no to all of the above, but she nodded.

      He took a deep breath and gave her a reassuring smile, placing his hand on a far less controversial spot on her waist. “I’ll wait.” He could. His body hummed with need, hard and relentless, but he would wait. “At least until we walk in the door.”

      She smiled, then caught her lower lip under her two front teeth with a heartbreakingly unsure expression.

      “What’s the matter?” he asked, cupping her jaw