Lori Foster - Men Of Honour

And wow, the man knew how to kiss.

He knew how to make love, too.

Natalie gave up trying to think; with Jett inside her, loving her, it was pointless to do anything but feel.

With one hand under her, he tilted up her hips so he could go even deeper, and with the other he cupped her breast, using his thumb to stroke her nipple. His mouth ate at hers, his tongue mimicking the movements of his body.

She breathed in his rich scent, felt the strength in his big body—and a climax shuddered through her, stiffening her legs, making her pulse and throb with the unbearable pleasure of it.

Just as her orgasm began to recede, Jett lifted his mouth away. He put his head back, fisted his hands in the sheet at each side of her and came with a deep groan of release.

Watching him through dazed eyes, Natalie admired his broad shoulders, his solid chest, the way his jaw locked as he spent. A light sprinkling of dark hair covered his chest, trailed down his abdomen in a thin line then spread out again at his groin. His bones were large, his body unyielding.

He had such striking good looks.

But he was so much more than a gorgeous body and face.

By small degrees, Jett lowered himself back down over her, balancing on his forearms to keep his weight off her. With his dark-eyed gaze now mellow and replete, he looked sexier than ever. They both breathed heavily for several minutes.

Natalie recovered first. Now with the gripping need temporarily eased, talking might actually be possible. Not that she looked forward to it, but she knew she couldn’t dodge Jett without looking ridiculous. “Mmm. Much better.”

Expression warm, his touch light and easy, he bent to kiss her mouth. “God,” he whispered, “you’re beautiful.”

Natalie smiled. “I was about to say the same.”

Eyes so dark they looked black in the dim light of his bedroom glittered with amusement. On other men, such long, black lashes might look effeminate; on Jett, they only emphasized his rugged masculinity.

He put his forehead to hers. “If you think I’m beautiful, then you must have come harder than I thought.”

She chuckled. Now this talk she was used to; they often indulged in silly sexual banter before she slipped away from his apartment.

Natalie looped her arms around his neck. “You are beautiful, Jett Sutter. All over.” She touched his jaw and realized she hadn’t given him time to shave before coming over to knock. “It’s a rugged beauty made up of oh-so-sexy eyes, a rock-solid bod and tons of irresistible charm.”

“Irresistible, huh? I like the sound of that.” He lowered himself down against her, and that sort of squished her boobs, leaving them plumped up high on her chest. He bent to kiss the top of each one. “Trust me, honey, I have no complaints about your body, either.”

A safe enough topic. Being philosophical, she said, “Most men like big boobs.”

He didn’t smile when he looked into her eyes. “I like you, so your bra size wouldn’t matter.”

“I see. So…” Natalie tried not to grin at him as she shimmied her shoulders, making her breasts jiggle. “These aren’t something you noticed right off?”

Still too serious, he said, “I did, sure. You, Natalie Alexander, are extraordinarily stacked.” He toyed with her hair, letting one long ringlet twine around his finger. “But I also noticed your reserve and the way your incredible hair sort of dances when you walk.”

Her hair was like dandelion fluff on humid days, but she enjoyed the compliment all the same.

“I noticed your smile and your pretty brown eyes that are always so sincere. How you greet every neighbor in the building and how you talk to yourself when you’re trying to remember things.”

Wow, that sounded as though he’d been plenty observant. “I talk to myself?”

He traced her lips with a fingertip. “You do, usually when you first get home. You come across the parking lot, arms loaded down with books and bags, and you say things to yourself, like Check the mail, get the chicken out of the freezer, call Molly, sort the tests.” As if he couldn’t resist, he bent to her mouth for a soft but sensual kiss. “Things like that. Mental note-taking, I guess.”

“I had no idea.” But it sounded like the things she worked to remember each and every day.

“Molly is your sister, right?”

He’d admitted to snooping into her background, and now she knew he’d listened to her inane mumblings. Her defensiveness came crawling back in on her, but she tried to sound playful rather than offended. “You mean a supersleuth like you doesn’t already know the answer to that?”

Sighing, he eased away from her and sat up.

Natalie realized that, without the use of a condom, she was on the…messy side. It was a novel thing for her. She’d never had sex without a rubber. She’d never before wanted to.

Being a sensible woman, she took responsibility seriously, and from the day she’d wanted to become sexually active, she’d been very cautious.

It went beyond that, though.

Jett was the first man she’d been with long enough, and trusted enough, to want to forgo condoms. Other men had asked, but her answer was always a resounding “no.” Without the use of a condom, she didn’t have sex.

Until now. Until Jett.

With his back to her, Jett asked, “Are you going to keep taking jabs at my profession?”

“What? No!” She hadn’t meant it that way at all. “I wasn’t ridiculing your work.”

“Yeah, you were.”

That annoyed her. “Wrong, Sherlock.”

He eyed her.

“Sorry. Figure of speech.” Natalie sighed. “I just don’t like having anyone snoop into my business without permission.” She looked beyond him to the open bathroom door. This was going to be tricky.

Why had no one ever told her about cleanup?

His gaze turned speculative, intent. “Hang around awhile and I’ll explain about that.”

Hang around—to be with Jett, to just talk, to learn more about him.

Oh, she wanted to, she really did.

But before she could even think about that… “Jett, I, ah…need to make a dash into the bathroom.”

As her meaning sank in, his expression lightened. He smiled at her. “Stay put, honey. I’ll take care of it.”

Appalled, Natalie watched as he went into the bathroom. Through the open door she saw him dampen a washcloth under running water.

No way.

When he came back to her side of the bed, Natalie snatched up the sheet to cover herself. “What do you think you’re going to do?”

“Clean you.”

“Oh no, you are not.”

As if she hadn’t spoken at all he sat beside her, one hand on her thigh, his demeanor one of pure masculine possession. “I don’t skip condoms, Natalie. Ever.”

They had that in common. “Me, either.”

He coasted his hand up and down her thigh. “Even though you’re on the pill?”

With the washcloth held in his free hand, concentrating on the conversation took effort. “Doubling up is safer, and besides, pregnancy is only one concern these days.”

“True enough.”

And honestly, she hadn’t been with that many men. For a twenty-seven-year-old woman, her sexual experiences were few and far between.

He studied her with lowered brows and grave intensity. “But you let me.”

They both knew they’d just crossed some boundaries into new intimacy. Very softly she replied, “Yes.”

Still holding her captive in his gaze, Jett whipped the sheet away from her, causing her to yelp. “I think you and I are going to share a lot of firsts together.”

She tried to block his hands, but he laughed until he got her pinned down then coaxed her, saying softly, “Let me.”

And she caved.

Jett didn’t realize it, but he’d already been her first in many ways. Her first fling. Her first orgasm—at least through intercourse. Her first spontaneous encounter. Her first time being tied.