Lori Foster: The Guy Next Door

His smile slipped into a grin. “Anytime.”

She’d been surprised and inexperienced enough to say, “Really?”

“Oh, yeah.” His gaze went molten as he looked her over, making it clear that he liked what he saw. “All you gotta do is knock.”

Natalie had taken him at his word, and from there they’d fallen into an unbelievable routine that was both scintillating and simple.

The first time she’d knocked at his door, feeling very tentative, alternate excuses at the ready, he’d answered a mere second later. His look of expectation had sharpened to satisfaction then quickly turned to lust. With that dark gaze devouring her, her worry dissipated as if it had never been.

After that, it got easier. And now, when she wanted him, she had no issue at all going to his door to let him know.

No, that wasn’t entirely true, because she always wanted him. Minutes after she left him, she ached for him again.

Trying to keep her obsession with Jett under wraps wasn’t easy, so at least three times a week she went to him. The rest of the time she lectured herself on moderation, on keeping things uncomplicated. If she pressed him, if she took up too much of his time, he’d grow tired of their uncomplicated arrangement.

But Natalie relished the lack of expectations. There were no awkward dates for her to flub or conflicting opinions to put them at odds or, God forbid, any uncertainty about his intentions.

So far, Jett had been very accommodating. Of course, one of these days he’d have other plans. Or not be home when she knocked. Or… She gulped.

One day he’d find someone else, someone important to him who wouldn’t appreciate him having a no-strings affair with his neighbor across the hall.

But not yet.

Not today.

Natalie was sorting through her feelings about the indistinct future when Jett opened his door.

Her breath caught. Forget the future; she wanted to concentrate only on the here and now.

Wearing nothing more than a damp towel and his wet hair uncombed, Jett’s dark-eyed gaze burned in a look she recognized only too well. He stood with his feet apart, one hand on the doorknob, the other on the frame above his head. The towel parted over one muscular thigh, showing an old scar, almost like a gunshot wound, on his right leg.

So many times Natalie had wanted to ask him about that scar. How had he gotten it, when.

Why?

She had no idea what Jett did for a living; she didn’t know anyone who’d been shot.

It’d be so easy to ask him…but she knew she shouldn’t. If she asked questions, it left him open to do the same. Eventually he’d find out that her father was ridiculously wealthy and well respected in the business world. He’d find out that she and her sister had been effectively disowned.

And he’d find out about her mother.

Her chest tightened with the thought. No, she didn’t want that.

The effortlessness of their straightforward sexual relationship was too enjoyable to modify it with idle curiosity.

Shaking off all other concerns, Natalie stepped toward Jett. As if her movement broke a spell, Jett dropped his arms around her and drew her in close, taking her mouth in a hungry, devouring kiss. Still with his mouth on hers, he lifted her inside and kicked the door shut.

Wow. Today he rushed things, and she loved it.

In two steps Jett had her pressed to the wall in full-body contact, his big hands framing her face while he ate at her mouth with an all-consuming kiss. His tongue moved over hers as he adjusted his hold, turning his head for a better fit.

He smelled fresh and hot, felt damp and strong. Whatever his occupation might be, Jett stayed in prime physical shape with admirable stamina. In appreciation, Natalie contracted her fingers over his chest muscles. He made a sound of pleasure and ground his erection against her belly.

After her quick shower, she’d changed into a casual, oversized sweatshirt with a wide neckline, and loose drawstring leisure pants. The clothes weren’t all that complimentary, but they were easy to remove, and she knew she wouldn’t be wearing them for long.

When Jett’s hand traveled down her spine to the waistband of the pants, then slipped inside to knead her backside, he discovered her lack of panties.

“Damn, woman,” he rasped against her throat. “You know how to make me burn, don’t you?”

Natalie couldn’t reply, not with him touching her, drifting his fingers around to her belly, down between her legs. She went on tiptoe in reaction, her head back, her shoulders pressed hard to the wall.

Voice low with satisfaction, Jett said, “Ah, baby, you’re already wet for me.” While teasing her with his strong fingers, he lightly kissed her throat, behind her ear. “Been thinking of me?”

“Yes.” Always, Natalie could have said, but she held back that telling confession. Right now her involvement with Jett was uncomplicated and burning hot.

So what if she occasionally got the urge to just talk to him? Thanks to a father who didn’t care, a mother who’d left her and suitors who’d cared more about impressing her father than her, she’d learned to keep her relationships simple. If Jett got to know her, he’d get to know her family and the very misleading background of wealth.

Then how could she ever trust him again?

She’d found out the hard way that when most men looked at her, they saw only dollar signs. Never again would she put herself through that.

Near her ear, Jett whispered, “Hey, where’d you go, Natalie?”

Her heart softened; Jett was so attuned to her that he always sensed her mood, and he never failed to react to it.

She forced away the faint edge of melancholy, the niggling urge to reach for more than this, and said, “I’m here, with you, getting dangerously close to coming.”

“Not yet,” he told her. He took one step back, and when she reached for him, he caught her hands. With a level look of instruction, he kissed each palm and pressed her hands down at either side of her hips.

Breathing hard, Natalie acquiesced with understanding. Jett often liked to take control sexually, always with combustible results. He never, ever hurt her, never even caused her a twinge of discomfort. He was an openly giving partner, unselfish and talented. Regardless of any details that Natalie didn’t know about him, she knew him. She didn’t have a single doubt that anything Jett wanted to do to her was for her pleasure.

She could hardly wait.

After licking her lips, she said, “Why don’t you take off the towel?” Looking at his body always thrilled her. She loved it that he was all man, hairy in the right places, solid and hard, so much taller and stronger than her.

“You first.” He caught the hem of the sweatshirt and tugged it up. “Raise your arms.”

When she did, he lifted the sweatshirt off over her head, baring her breasts.

Cool air-conditioning drifted over her skin. Her nipples were already tight, aching.

“Stand still.” Jett lowered his head to dampen each one with his tongue, teasing, circling.

Her thigh muscles tensed, her belly hollowed. She waited for him to suck—but he didn’t. He just kept teasing, lightly kissing, licking, but stopping short at what she wanted most.

She closed her eyes on a wave of sensation that felt sharpest between her thighs. “Jett…”

“Shh.” He straightened again, cupped both her breasts in his hands and used his thumbs now to circle her wet nipples. “God, you have the most gorgeous body ever.”

Both she and her sister were large-breasted, but the rest of her? Average at best. Not that you could tell that by the way Jett reacted to her. From the beginning he’d seemed very drawn to her physically.