He gasped as the last spasm of his climax released him, slumping against her, more spent than he’d ever been in his life. His head spun, and he shut his eyes, waiting for the world to stop spinning.

Eventually, Della stirred beneath him. “That was…”

Smiling into her neck, Tucker said, “My thoughts exactly.”

Dragging himself out of his near coma, he hauled himself up on his forearms again, frowning as the pink light showcased two tear tracks. “Della?” He frowned. “Are you okay? Did I—”

He went to withdraw, but she clutched him tighter. “No. Stay.” She smiled. “I’ve never felt better.”

Tucker was having trouble marrying the tears with her assurances. Sure, people cried happy tears, but he’d never made a woman cry in bed before, and the fact that it was Della did not sit well. “Okay…so, why are you crying?”

“What?” she said with a tease in her voice, her arms going around his neck as he continued to stare at her, nonplussed. “You never cried after sex before?”

Tucker gave himself a mental shake, forcing himself to lighten up. “Only the first time.”

She laughed, and he felt it squeeze around his cock. “Why?”

“Best ten seconds of my life.”

She laughed again, her internal muscles pushing him half out. Aware he was probably squashing her under his grizzly weight, he slipped from her body and rolled onto his back, scooping her up so her head was lying on his shoulder, her body pressed against his side. A long sigh slipped from her lips, and Tucker shut his eyes. He knew exactly how she felt.

“I wish that had been my first time,” she said quietly into the warm, silent glow. “I wish I’d waited for you, Tucker Daniels.”

The sleepy wistfulness in her voice was like a hot fist to his gut. He wished she’d waited for him, too. He wished he’d waited for her.

Crap. He was in way too deep.

Tucker stirred about half an hour later, waking to the glorious warmth of Della still plastered to his side and the less-glorious stickiness of the condom. Moving carefully, he pulled his arm out from under her and crept out of bed. Heading to her bathroom, he ditched the condom, used the toilet, and returned to her room to dress and leave.

Except when he laid eyes on her again, he didn’t want to leave.

A month ago, he would have worried about what they’d done, about its impact. But not tonight. Not anymore. Della deserved great sex, and she’d chosen him. And for now—nothing else mattered.