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.