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“You didn’t let me hear you,” he accused, and my body tingled at his words. He really had been thinking about how my orgasm sounded. Perhaps I shouldn’t have muffled it.

“I didn’t letthemhear me,” I corrected, pointing at the floor.

Rex clicked his tongue, then got up and tugged his pants off in one quick motion. His cock bobbed hello, and my mouth went dry.

I wanted him. Wanted him so badly I was dripping for it. And he clearly wanted me too.

But Rex just knelt between my spread thighs and ran histhumb through my arousal, his other hand gripping his cock in a tight fist. “You are so beautiful, Abigail,” he said quietly, thumb teasing my clit and making my thighs twitch and jerk. “I’ve been dreaming about you, like this.”

He shifted his hand so he could slide a finger inside me while still resting his thumb against my clit.

I shivered, shifting my hips to give him better access. “That feels so good.”

Rex hummed, sliding his finger in and out of me. It was slow and torturous and delicious. He watched the movement of his own hand, and with the other, reached for something on the bed.

My satiny pajama shorts appeared in his hand, and he wrapped them around his hard cock before gripping it in his fist. He let out a breath.

I watched him use my clothes to pleasure himself, and every muscle inside me clenched. He hummed in response, adding another finger while increasing the speed of his hand on his cock.

“Been watching you get into bed in these little shorts for three nights, Abigail,” he said, dropping his head back with a sigh. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to rip them off you.”

“And here I thought you were repulsed by them.”

He lowered his gaze to mine again and slowly shook his head.

I reached for him. My fingers trailed over his stomach, then up to feel the coarse hair smattering his pecs. I stretched up to kiss him, humming into his mouth as he pleasured us both.

Then he curled his fingers just so and increased thepressure of his thumb, and I had no choice but to fall back on the pillows. Heat and pressure and tightness wound around my core, urged on with every thrust of his hand. My knees fell open. My lips parted.

“Can’t wait to fuck you properly,” Rex growled, and somehow that was what did it for me.

I think it was the desperate, dark look in his eyes and the absolute truth that rang in his words. It was the way he gripped himself, my satin shorts crumpled beyond recognition in his fist.

I arched and cried out, forgetting about the pillow and the guests and every inhibition that might’ve made me quiet in the past. Heat rushed through me, sending tingles all the way down to my toes. I panted, shocked, and opened my eyes just in time to meet Rex’s gaze.

“Better than I imagined,” he said, grinning—and then his expression changed, and another rush of pleasure went through me at the sight of him reaching his peak.

He made a mess of himself, of me, and he utterly ruined my pajama shorts. Hot lines of his orgasm covered my thighs and stomach. I was so far gone that all I could do was watch, reaching down between my legs to coax out the dregs of another orgasm. That drew a long moan from Rex, who fisted his cock a few more times as he watched me touch myself.

It was dirty and messy and wrong—and so right. We panted, speechless for a few long moments.

Rex trailed a finger through his own release where it coated my stomach, a long breath slipping through his parted lips. Then he leaned over me and pressed a kiss to my lips.

“I’ll get something to clean you up,” he said softly, returning a moment later with a warm washcloth.

I found a pair of soft panties, and this time, when we got into bed, we didn’t even pretend to stay apart. Rex spread his arms for me, and I found a comfy spot in the crook between his shoulder and his chest.

I didn’t have the energy to make a quip about him obviously being a cuddler. He smelled too good, and my eyelids were too heavy.

But I’d learned one thing: good-guy Rex Montgomery was absolutely filthy in bed. And we hadn’t even gone all the way yet.

I wokeup craving Rex and his tongue again. I turned my head and found his head crease in the pillow, but Rex was gone. Where was he?

I threw on my robe and wandered downstairs. The closer I got, the more I heard clinking in the kitchen. The smell of fresh cinnamon rolls and savory breakfast meats wafted my way. While it smelled incredible, I prayed it wasn’t another bridesmaid brunch. It was certainly a lot quieter, except for the country music playing lightly on the radio.

Soon it was obvious who was making all that noise. Rex, shirtless over the stove, moved like he knew his way around the kitchen better than I did. Winston supervised from the far countertop, looking suspicious.

“Rex, is that you?” I asked, walking into my kitchen.