She’d asked him not to hold back, and he’d given her everything. He’d unleashed. Like he had that night in Denver. No propriety, not boundaries. Only it had been better because this time he hadn’t stopped abruptly. He’d let her feel the full force of his arousal. When he’d ripped her top and entered her with one hard, decisive thrust, even his lack of protection hadn’t mattered. She had an implant, and the way he’d hammered her had been exactly what she’d wanted.

And the sex they’d had since then… Lordy! She’d learned so much.

About the act itself but about Tucker most of all. She’d learned all his sensitive spots—what made his breath hitch, what made him groan, and what made him say fuuuuuck.

But it wasn’t just sex she’d learned about since getting involved with Tucker. She’d learned that he liked cilantro but didn’t like carrots, that he loved audio and electronic books but preferred to get his news in printed format. She’d learned about his travels before he came back to Credence a decade ago, that he was a closet The Bachelorette junkie, and that the only thing he’d run back into a burning house to save was his hot pot.

And that he hogged the bed.

He’d spent every night with her since they’d first gone all the way and had even left a small backpack in her room with some basic changes of clothes. His toothbrush sat next to hers in the cup on top of the vanity. They were practically living together.

In secret.

Della knew it couldn’t last. That sooner or later he’d remind her this was meant to only be a temporary thing and call it a day. Just a few nights ago, she’d mentioned she was going to delete the Tinder app from her phone, and Tucker had been adamant she didn’t.

Keep it for after, he’d suggested, and she’d acquiesced so he’d stop insisting, but she hadn’t looked at it in weeks and she wasn’t planning on looking at it ever again.

Maybe she wouldn’t have to.

Maybe the longer they were together, he’d forget about after.

As if he knew she was thinking about him, Tucker glanced up from behind the bar, giving her a thorough once-over. Jack’s was about half full, but suddenly Della felt like the only person in the room as his eyes lingered on the hem of her skirt. His nostrils flared, and her heart skipped a beat.

How did he do that? Set her on fire from so far away?

“Della. There you are.”