The Guy Next Door. Victoria Dahl
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and wove a long specialized restraint through the headboard slats. A sliding “noose” at each end would be perfect for capturing Natalie’s delicate wrists.
His abdomen clenched and his breathing hitched; he tugged experimentally and decided it would serve the purpose.
He glanced at the footboard, considered putting the restraints there too—but no. On a purely carnal level, he loved the idea of seeing Natalie tied spread-eagle to his bed, but he didn’t want to push her so much that she felt compelled to object.
Now sporting full wood, Jett went to the shower. He had completed only the most cursory bathing when his attuned ears heard Natalie’s familiar knock at his door.
Drawing a deep breath and shutting off the water, he propped a hand flat against the tile wall, dropped his head and took a moment to regain his control.
After doing a half-assed job of drying, he wrapped the towel around his hips and strode to his apartment door to let her in.
There wasn’t anything he could do about the tenting of the towel. He wanted her, bad, more so with every minute that he knew her.
Today he’d make sure she wanted him just as much, in just as many ways.
HER HEART FLUTTERING in excitement, Natalie knocked twice on Jett’s door. Anticipation rode her hard; she felt more alive, her every sense acutely heightened, whenever she was with him.
Even before leaving school she’d thought of this, of him and what they’d do, and now fire licked along her nerve endings, leaving behind a throbbing heat that pooled between her thighs.
Before Jett, Natalie hadn’t been a sexual woman. But now, it didn’t matter how many times she had him—she wanted him as if it was the first.
Maybe that was because the first time had been so mind-blowing, like the hottest of fantasies.
Even her sister, a bestselling author, couldn’t write anything so amazing. The things Jett did, with precision and expertise and a complete lack of inhibition, were almost surreal.
The first time she’d laid eyes on him, she’d done an interested double take.
So had he.
Tall and strong with an athletic build, Jett Sutter was drop-dead gorgeous in a disheveled, comfortable, I-don’t-give-a-damn way. His attitude was a refreshing change from the tailored, GQ men in suits, the type of men who sought her out because of her father’s wealth and social standing.
She doubted Jett had any social standing; if he did, he wouldn’t be living in their moderately priced apartment complex.
His body was enough to leave a woman tongue-tied, but it was his dark glittering eyes that had the ability to arrest all thought and movement. When he looked at her, his expression was teasing, interested, but also so intent that Natalie felt it in the most intimate ways.
She, decorum personified, had surprised herself by flirting with him.
She’d been surprised even more when he dished it right back. They spoke only a little, all of it light, sexy and…fun.
That in itself, the teasing and the flirting, had been a complete aberration for her, something she enjoyed but had never really indulged before meeting Jett.
Then one day, months ago, she’d found herself alone in the hallway with Jett as they’d each started into their own units. For the longest time they’d stared at each other, no doubt thinking the same thing, wanting the same thing. The tension had built to an excruciating level.
Natalie had waited, breath held, anticipation keen.
Without a word Jett unlocked his door and pushed it open, but then walked over to her.
Her heart had tried to punch right out of her chest.
Ever so slowly, he’d moved his hand over her cheek, under her wildly curling hair to curve warmly around her nape. Little by little his eyes narrowed and darkened even more, captivating her, making her knees weak—until he leisurely bent to her mouth and brushed the lightest of kisses over her lips.
When she didn’t pull away, he lingered, teasing at first, but then she leaned into him and he’d given in with a harsh, hungry groan.
In minutes, she’d found herself in his apartment, each fumbling with the other’s clothes, arms and legs tangling while the kisses grew hotter and longer and deeper…
In mutual participation, they ended up in his bed having the hottest, most satisfying sex ever.
Other than a few moans and gasps and heartfelt expletives, neither had spoken a single word.
Afterward, as she’d tried to figure out what to do or say, he’d smiled at her, a smile of triumph, of confidence and cocky attitude.
Uncensored gratitude had left her bemused. She hadn’t known sex could be so satisfying, or so consuming, and she’d spoken without really thinking it through. “That was…” She’d had no adequate words, so she settled on, “Thank you.”
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.