Tucker threw himself under the shower, calling himself every lowdown horndog name he could think of. When he ran out, he made a few up.

What the fuck, dude?

He slammed his palm against the tiles but barely felt the impact. What was the matter with him? Unleashing himself like that on Della? A sexual assault survivor.

Where was his restraint?

Why on earth hadn’t he gone straight to bed tonight? Why had he let three beers and the smell of strawberry daiquiri and the fucking moonlight lure him into a discussion about first-date kisses? He should have walked away when she first mentioned it. He definitely should have walked away when she’d stepped right into his space. He absolutely should have walked away after that first kiss.

But man…it was like she had him under some kind of spell. He was weak when it came to Della Munroe. He already knew that, but tonight it had been worse than ever. He hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her. Hadn’t wanted their fake date to end.

And then he’d kissed her like some drunken ogre. She’d had to tell him to stop. Good one, dipshit.

God…how far would he have gone had she not called a halt? Because she’d been intoxicating, and he’d wanted her bad. Would he have undone her shirt? Slid his hands into her panties? Would he have fucked her against the window for all of goddamn Denver to see?

Tucker dunked his head under the water and turned off all the hot, desperate to rid himself of those images, of that little whimper he could still hear reverberating through his brain, of the desire still surging through his system despite the heavy dose of self-loathing.

His dick, still painfully erect, was apparently immune to things such as contempt and freezing water. It’d no doubt survive a nuclear blast impressively intact.

Like a cockroach.

I didn’t even know a kiss could be like that.

He reached for those words as they floated by, desperate for any distraction but rattled by them probably more than anything else tonight. That Della could have been with someone for years and not been thoroughly kissed in every way possible was perhaps the saddest fact of all.

He wanted that for her. To know what it was like to be thoroughly kissed, to be with someone who took the time to introduce her to the delights. It just couldn’t be him. Because, as he already proved, he couldn’t kiss Della without wanting to go all Incredible Hulk on her ass, and she was obviously still only at the mild-mannered Bruce Banner level.

…