Della laughed as she stared at the snoozing pooch. “She’s the most perfect gift, Tuck.” She glanced up at him, her gaze on the hardness of his jaw beneath the layer of scruff. “Thank you.”

He turned his head, his eyes seeking hers, and suddenly, just like that, the cozy, companionable, domesticated air evaporated. She was conscious of the way his gaze zeroed in on her mouth. The heat of his thigh pressed into her, the heat of his hip pressed into her, the heat of his arm pressed into her. The desire that had been banked from the moment he’d walked into her house full of people flared to life, and she could feel the burn of it in her marrow and her lungs.

Feel the beat of it through her blood. Filling her head and her limbs and her chest.

“Where do you want her?” he asked, tipping his head in Betty’s direction but not taking his eyes off Della.

Confused for a moment, Della looked at the dog, who seemed pretty darn comfortable right there. “Where she is should be fine.”

He shook his head slowly as her gaze returned to his, and the clear intent in his whiskey eyes rolled through her like a heat wave. “I think it might be a little too early in your relationship with Betty to expose her to our make-out session.”

Della swallowed. The man made a very good point. “My bedroom.”

He nodded. “Stay here.”

She almost laughed out loud. Was he kidding? She couldn’t have moved had the couch been on fire. Which was a very distinct possibility, given the furnace roaring inside her panties.

Della didn’t watch him leave with the dog. She was far too busy reliving last night’s passionate kiss at the door. She’d gone to bed and used The Suck-u-buzz, just like she’d sworn she would, and imagined his hands roaming her body, imagined it was his mouth on her clitoris.

She’d come and come hard—twice—but it had left her empty afterward, and a little frustrated. She wanted the real thing. She wanted Tucker.

“You want more wine?” he asked from somewhere behind her.

“No.” She didn’t need wine—she was drunk enough on anticipation. Things were actually throbbing between her legs.

She heard the faucet turn on in the kitchen briefly, then turn off, and she was excruciatingly aware of the tread of his footsteps as they got closer and closer until he was entering her peripheral vision, then standing in front of her. For a moment he just stared, his eyes roaming all over her body before he slid back in beside her, taking the place he’d vacated not long ago.