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.