Debbie.
He was standing there by the kitchen counter.
No shirt on. He was bare at the top.
Black sweatpants that hung so… threateningly low.
Muscles—tight and solid—graced his body in all the perfect places.
Tattoos.
He had a lot of tattoos on the left side of his body, like he dedicated that part of himself entirely to ink.
I had never seen him—or any of them—without a shirt on, so I never knew he had tattoos. And for someone as calm as him, he looked dangerous with all that going on.
“Rex,” I called.
He raised his head, his white hair falling to one side of his face.
He was the one smoking.
And then—
His eyes stayed glued to my body.
What was he looking at m—
It was at that moment that I realized why.
I felt a flush of discomfort.
I was wearing this nightdress that was ju
