Page 48 of Faking It with the Firefighter

“Good,” she replied, putting her pillow back. “And next time Blair starts telling me about your sexual prowess, I’ll just smile and nod and remember that this will be over soon.”

“Words every man wants to hear in the same sentence as his sexual prowess.”

“So, what, that part of her spiel was true? You weren’t all over her in public, but youwereincredible in bed? That seems convenient.”

Her eyes were dark and narrowed, her hair mussed. She looked unbelievably beautiful in the low light of the bedroom, with her silk camisole clinging to her curves.

She huffed, shaking her head. “You know what, forget I said anything. It’s all this talk about Travis.” She punched her pillow again in some odd attempt to flatten it so she could fluff it some more. “His ghost lingers. The ghost of divorces past. She could tell that he’s still haunting this house, that’s why she said all that stuff about you. I hate that she could tell. I hate that I was so easy to read! ‘Does he still do that thing with his tongue?’ she asks. God!” She met my gaze, but she was so deep in her rant that she didn’t stop until she said, “Travis was so damn selfish he never once went down on me. ‘That thing you did with your tongue.’ I don’t even know what that means!”

The words exploded out of her. Then her mouth clamped shut, and I propped myself up onto my elbow again.

Pointing a finger at me, Abigail said, “Erase the last thirty seconds from your brain.”

“No can do,” I said, shaking my head.

Her cheeks were flushed, and her ranting and aggressive fluffing had rucked up her shirt so I could see a strip of skin below her navel. One strap had fallen off her shoulder, exposing an expanse of chest that I definitely shouldn’t have been seeing.

I could have backed down. I could have turned away.

But I didn’t.

“Come here,” I said, and reached for her.

SIXTEEN

ABIGAIL

My heart raced.Rex looked relaxed, his body reclined on my bed with one arm reaching for me and the other curled behind his head—but his eyes were intense.

“What are we doing?” I whispered.

Another moan floated up through the floorboards. Rex arched a brow and uncurled the arm from behind his head, lifting himself up to a seated position. “Abigail, I think you know exactly what we’re doing.”

I rolled my lips. Heat coursed through me, settling between my thighs. Kissing Rex had set me on fire, and now…

He leaned on his palms and put a bit more space between us, but his eyes never left mine. “Seems to me your ex didn’t treat you right.”

“Rex,” I started, mouth dry. “You’re not… I’m… We’re not supposed to be doing this.”

“Never knew you to be such a little rule follower, Abigail.”

I straightened, frowning. “I’m not. But?—”

“But?”

“Gabe would literally murder you.”

“Let him murder me, then,” Rex said, a dark smile flashing across his lips. Every muscle between my navel and my knees tightened. Why was Rex so freakinghot?

I sipped in enough air to say, “It troubles me that I’m currently the voice of reason.”

He laughed, then, bright and genuine, and I think a little piece of my calcified heart began to soften and melt. He reached for me, his fingers coasting over my cheek. “That kiss didn’t taste fake earlier,” he said, voice low. “And I think we should find out just how real it was.”

When I didn’t reply, he tugged on my arm and coaxed me to lie down, shifting so he was propped above me, a strand of dark hair falling across his brow. He dipped down toward me, and I tilted my chin to accept his kiss.

This man was unpicking all the knots inside me and making me feel new again. His lips were warm and demanding, and I found myself wrapping my arms around his neck and spreading my knees to cradle his hips. Every movement was natural, even if my pulse thundered.

My mind was quiet, focused on the brush of Rex’s lips against mine and the weight of his body over me. His erection was a hard bar between us, his stubble a rough counterpoint to his soft kisses.

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