His hands were all over her, up and down her back, smoothing her wet hair from her face, skimming her breasts, her hips, her bottom, her thighs, between them…making her groan softly in his mouth, because yeah, his fingers knew her, knew exactly what to do to make her gasp. “Zach—”

“God, you’re wet.”

She managed a laugh, though it backed up in her throat when he slid a finger into her. “That’s because I’m in the shower.”

He played that finger inside her, in and then out. “This isn’t from the shower.”

Before she could respond, he dropped to his knees, pressed her back against the tiled wall and slid his hands up her thighs. “This is from me. You’re wet from me.” Using his fingers to part her, exposing exactly what he wanted, he leaned in and kissed her, then groaned in pleasure at her taste.

“Me,” he repeated thickly, with unmistakable satisfaction.

He was right. Even now, after knowing him in a way she knew few men, he could merely look at her and turn her on.

And his touch…

He wasn’t done with her, not even close. “Oh, God,” she gasped as he, with gentle, heart-stopping precision, used his tongue, his teeth, his fingers, driving her right to the very edge and holding her there until she gripped his wet hair in her hands, silently begging him to finish her off.

Which he did, and she came again. Exploded, actually. Maybe imploded. She couldn’t tell because she departed from her own mind for a few minutes, and when she’d have slipped to the tile in a boneless, orgasmic heap, he caught her. Caught her and surged to his feet, once again pressing her back to the wall, bending his dark, wet head to rasp his tongue over a nipple.

“Wrap your legs around me,” he commanded, his voice a low, husky whisper as he lifted his head and impaled her with that dark, direct gaze. “There—God, yeah. There…”

Her breath caught again when he rocked his hips to hers, entering her. He pushed again, going deeper this time, and her entire body welcomed him.

“Don’t,” he growled when she arched into him. “Don’t move, not yet—”

But she couldn’t help it, and he swore again as he moved, a slow thrust of those hips, gliding against her sensitized flesh, wrenching a horrifyingly needy whimper out of her as her head thunked back against the wall.

He had his arms low around her hips. One slid up her back, his fingers slipping into her hair, cushioning her head, protecting it from the tile. “God, you feel amazing.” He let out a slow, rough sound of sheer pleasure. “You’re so beautiful, so goddamned beautiful…” He thrust into her, wrenching low moans from both of their throats, which comingled in the fogged-up shower as he moved within her…