by Amy Andrews
“I’m not…we’re not sleeping together.”
“Then what the hell are you doing?” Drew demanded. “Hell, man, you know what she’s been through. You’re her friend. You’re Arlo’s friend. You’re supposed to be one of the safe people in her life.”
If that was supposed to make him feel shitty, it worked. Not that Tucker needed to be told any of it. All those reasons were why he’d resisted his attraction to Della for so long, and he couldn’t deny that he worried about what their relationship would be like when Della felt confident enough to discard her…training wheels.
Fuck. He was her training wheels.
But she was a grown-ass woman who finally had agency over her life, and she’d made it very plain what she wanted and who she wanted it with. “Della wants someone to teach her…”
Even trying to describe what they were doing without coming across as taking complete advantage of a woman far less experienced than him was exceptionally difficult. Tucker could barely look at Drew.
“She wants to learn about…sexual stuff and sexy times and the…variety of…intimate things men and women can do together.”
God, this conversation was a solid ten out of ten on the awkward-as-fuck meter. It was almost as bad as the conversation his mother had tried to have with him about wet dreams when he was twelve. If the words natural nocturnal bodily function slipped out of his mouth, he was in serious trouble.
Drew gaped at him like he’d grown a horn on his head. “And what? You volunteered as tribute?”
“No…she asked me. We’ve been seeing a lot of each other with the driving lessons and the wingman stuff, and Tinder is such a cesspool. She wanted to fast-track her experience with someone she trusted. She wants to…learn the ropes before putting herself out there again. It’s not a permanent thing. It’s just short-term. Until she’s confident in herself and her…prowess.”
“And you said yes?” He shook his head. “You are a fucking idiot.”
“Actually, I said no. A lot. But then…damn it, I said yes. She kept pushing, and I said yes, okay? Because I know I can deliver what she needs while being mindful of what she’s been through. I’m not some douche-jerk who’s going to stand her up or send her a dick pic or who’s only interested in one thing. I’m showing her all the ways a man should treat a woman, and I know I’m not going to hurt her in the process.”
Drew shook his head. “Why do you think she asked you?”
Tucker picked up his beer and took several deep swallows. “I don’t know,” he said as he put it down, avoiding Drew’s eyes altogether. But even as he point-blank lied, her words from that rainy night at Arlo’s came back.
I like you, like you. I’ve had a crush on you for a very long time now.
“That’s bullshit,” Drew rejected. “I think you know exactly why.”
Tucker shrugged. “I’m just…familiar, I guess. She sat at my barstool almost every night for those first couple of years. She…trusts me.”
“Bum bah!” Drew made a television-game-show-buzzer noise. “Try again.”
“Screw you.”
“How about because she likes you? Really likes you. And you really like her?”
Tucker almost told Drew to go screw himself again, but keeping all this to himself had been a shitty burden. And Drew always had been the guy people confessed their crap to. He was the guy with the shoulder that girls loved to cry on, the guy dudes went to for advice in the love department. A regular Cyrano de Bergerac.
Even though he was probably the most unlucky-in-love guy in Credence.
“Yes, okay. I’m…attracted to her.” He sighed, and a weight that had sat on his shoulders forever seemed to lift. A little, anyway. “I have been for a while now.”
“Right.” Drew nodded, his face breaking into a slow grin. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
Tucker snorted at Drew’s smugness. “You have no idea.”
“Do you love her?”
God…Tucker didn’t even want to entertain that possibility. All he knew was his feelings were tangled and he had no desire to try and untangle them because a temporary situation to help Della out was one thing. Tucker was very goal-oriented. He had a game plan and a final objective. He had performance indicators and outcomes he could measure.
Love was something else entirely.
“I can’t love her, man.”
Drew searched his gaze in that deeply assessing funeral-dude way, taking his time to probe thoroughly. By the time he asked “Why not?” Tucker felt like he’d had his prostate checked as well.
“Because she’s not after that. She missed out on a whole bunch of stuff, and she wants to get out and experience life. She doesn’t want to fall in love and settle down, she wants to play the field and have fun for once. And I won’t complicate that for her by mooning over her like some fucking teenager.” He slapped his hand down on the bar. “I won’t. It’s only a temporary thing. It’ll be fine.”
“Really?” Drew cocked an eyebrow that clearly said you are a dickhead. “So how does this end, Tucker? Does she graduate from your little school of advanced sexual education and you both just go on your happy ways?”
The well-intentioned questions slugged into Tucker’s chest like bullets. He didn’t want to think about after. There’d be plenty of time for that when he got there. “Yep.” Tucker nodded briskly. “That’s exactly how it ends.”
“And you get to stand there behind the bar and what? Watch her bring in some other dude and pour their drinks while they flirt and go home and fuck—maybe fall in love?”
It took every ounce of Tucker’s will not to grind his teeth at the thought. The flirting and the fucking and the falling in love. Della had been adamant she wasn’t interested in the latter, but if she did, he would be so fucking happy for her his face would ache from all the smiling.
“Yep.”
“Okay, right…well. Let’s see how that goes, shall we?” Drew picked up his beer and drained it, passing the bottle to Tucker, indicating he’d have one more.
Tucker grabbed another bottle of Bud, grateful for something to think about other than life after Della had moved on from their arrangement. He set it in front of Drew. “I don’t need to tell you to keep this under your hat, right? This isn’t something Arlo needs to know.”
“Hell, man, no way am I sticking my head inside that particular lion’s mouth. But if you think Eadie’s going to keep quiet about it, then you’ve forgotten how it works around here. Sooner or later, Arlo is going to find out, and that’s going to be…well—” He took a slug of his beer. “Not good for you.”
“He’s going to be pissed, isn’t he?”
“Yup.”
“Like poison my black-eyed peas, wrap me in a tarp, shove me in the trunk, and take me out to the lake pissed?”
“Possibly,” Drew agreed with an unnerving calmness.
“Well, that’s too bad.” Tucker opened a second beer for himself. He didn’t actually think Arlo would murder him, but the fact he was a piece—a critical piece—in this jigsaw between him and Della was a giant pain in the ass. “Arlo needs to adjust to Della having her own life.”
“Arlo’s not going to go all Earl on your ass because you’re with Della.”
Tucker cocked an eyebrow. “Ah…have you met Arlo?”
Drew grinned, obviously unperturbed about the high likelihood of Tucker’s early death. “Okay, sure, there’ll probably be a bit of macho bro-code bullshit. But that’s all crap, and he knows it. You’re the perfect man for Della. You’re a good guy with a good job who’s well-regarded in the community. Well, not by Mrs. Hutchens, obviously, but that’s understandable. You like and respect Della and want to do right by her, and once Arlo removes his head from his ass, he’ll be able to acknowledge that, too. What he won’t be able to get past is you two carrying on behind his back. It’s the secrecy
that’ll piss him off more than anything.”
“Yeah.” Deep in his bones, Tucker knew Drew was right. Arlo was an old friend, and Della was his sister. He could reasonably expect that they’d clue him in.
“The wisest thing you can do right now is get out in front of it.”
It may be wise, but Tucker did not want to go there. “What? Just say, hey Arlo, I’m tutoring your sister in the fine art of lovin’ a man for her future use, but don’t worry, we’ll be going our separate ways soon.”
“Well, I personally wouldn’t mention loving or leaving, but hey, you do you.”
Tucker shook his head. “No way am I having that conversation.” He’d rather have every old biddy and their dog catch him with his pants down and pass judgment on his junk.
Maybe he could bribe Eadie Doyle into silence. He seemed to remember she was a huge fan of Annie’s coconut cream pie.
Drew regarded him with pity for a long moment, then shrugged. “Your funeral.” Then he grinned around the mouth of his beer bottle, because that joke really never did get old.
…
Three nights later, Della decided it was time to move on. She’d been enjoying this journey very much so far, but she was ready to kick it up another notch. She’d been ready for a while but had let herself be too easily distracted by Tucker giving her multiple orgasms until her brains leaked out her ears and she was incapable of anything more than breathing.
Tonight, she was ready for more. Ready for it to be about him more than her. She wanted to explore him. To go down on him.
Curiously, she was okay with them not having done it yet. They’d decided to take it slow and not rush, and she had to admire Tucker’s commitment to giving her myriad sexual experiences she could learn from and treasure that didn’t involve actual penetration. She never knew how good a prolonged tease could be, but she did now, thanks to Tucker.
But still…that worked out very well for her—not so much for him. And she wanted to right that wrong tonight.
The fact she wanted to touch him, to explore that hardness between his legs, was a revelation. After the way Todd had used fellatio to brutalize her, she hadn’t thought she’d ever want to be in the same room as a naked penis, never mind touch one.
She certainly hadn’t thought she’d want one in her mouth ever again.
The idea of voluntarily giving a blow job was unthinkable three years ago. But being with Tucker like this night after night, so intimately, knowing he was as aroused as she was and ignoring it in favor of her and her pleasure, was a revelation.
Probably precisely because he hadn’t gone there, Della was staggeringly curious. Winona’s books were full of women who went down on their partners. Who loved it.
So she knew it could be great.
And she at least wanted to try. Because, this time, it was her choice. Not an act of violence or assault or submission. Not performed through self-hatred and sick, twisted beliefs about the sanctity of a woman’s body. But an act of passion, of desire.
She supposed tonight could end in disaster. She could be hit with a flashback that could be embarrassing in the middle of it all, but if it was going to happen with anyone, she’d rather it be with Tucker. He might not know the details of her abuse, but he was cognizant of it and wouldn’t push her past her point of comfort or think she was weird if she was suddenly overwhelmed or, worse, freaked out.
But she wanted to go there.
Of course, she knew she couldn’t just drop to her knees as soon as he walked through the door and yank on his fly, which was what she really, really wanted to do, because she wanted to watch those eyes of his heat and darken like they had that night in Denver before he’d pulled himself back into check. He’d been very careful not to lose control like that again, despite all the stuff they’d done since, which only made her yearning for it stronger.
She’d never felt sexually powerful in her life until that moment, knowing that he was out of his mind with lust over her. Todd’s loss of control had always been about his demons. Tucker unleashing like that had been about desire. It had been wonderful, and God help her, she wanted it again.
But Tucker was too focused on her and her needs to worry about his own, particularly when he first arrived. It was like he spent the ten-minute walk from Jack’s each night constructing his game play and then ruthlessly carrying it out to the letter.
She could just ask him. Tell him. But she shied from the thought. She didn’t want to ruin things by such overt direction. She wanted to make it an organic part of tonight.
Betty barking alerted her to Tucker’s presence, and she eagerly opened the door. The dog dashed out, yipping happily, to find Tucker walking slowly backward toward her house from across the street.
Eadie, her neighbor over the road, was holding a pie. Another pie.
“Night, Mrs. Doyle,” Tucker said, his deep voice carrying easily in the still of the cool night air. “I’ll call by in the morning with some tools to fix that broken faucet.”
“Oh, Tucker, you are such a dear.” Eadie beamed.
“My pleasure,” he said, gracing the older woman with a casual wave as he turned to face Della’s house, big arms swinging by his sides.
Betty ran in excited little circles on the spot as Tucker approached, and Della knew exactly how the dog felt. If Eadie wasn’t still standing at her front gate watching them, she’d probably be doing the same. She didn’t think she’d ever get bored with watching the way the man walked. There was a swagger in his step that was so damn male it made her excruciatingly aware of being female.
“Hey Betty Boop,” he crooned. He let the dog enthusiastically lick his neck, and it was no exaggeration to say that Della’s legs turned to mush. The way he was with Betty made everything mushy.
Aware of prying eyes, Della indicated they should go inside, and she was relieved to be able to shut the door and lock out everyone but Tucker. “You took her another pie?” she asked, watching him pet Betty behind the ear.
He shrugged. “She likes pies.”
“And the faucet?”
“It won’t take me long.”
Della narrowed her eyes. “What’s going on there?”
“Just being neighborly.”
Yeah. There was so much more going on there. But hell if she cared right now. All she cared about was putting her hands on Tucker. “I made some beef stew, if you want to eat?”
His gaze dropped, roving all over her body, eye-fucking her with breathtaking thoroughness. “Oh, I want to eat.” His eyes returned to her face. “I’m very hungry.”
Every cell in her body buzzed. She smiled and took a step backward. “That’s great. Stew is really good for you and very filling.”
He chuckled as he took a step forward, still petting a blissed-out Betty. “I’m not hungry for stew.”
Della stepped back again. Thank you, Jesus. She held out her hand, and he took it, and they stared at each other as she navigated backward to her bedroom door, his eyes telling her exactly what he was hungry for, her pulse thudding thick and slow through her abdomen and thighs and the lips of her sex as her own hunger growled like a beast.
When they got to the door, he said, “Let me get rid of madam pooch here and wash up and I’ll be straight back.”
They had moved their lessons to the bedroom because there was something luxurious about being horizontal, but, after licking Tucker’s foot one night while he’d been busy between Della’s legs, Betty had been banished to the living room and the bedroom door firmly closed.
“And I’ll get naked.”
He groaned as he kissed her hard and quick, muttering “Tease” against her mouth as he withdrew with the dog.
Della grinned like a loon, and her heart sang as she quickly shimmied out of her clothes. But she didn’t get naked. She’d been to Frieda’s today and bought some lingerie, so she kept it
on and arranged herself on her side close to the edge of the mattress, her head propped up on her hand. Reaching for the bedside lamp, over which she’d placed a piece of gauzy red fabric, she switched it on, a pink halo forming around the shade.
A noise from the doorway alerted her to Tucker’s presence, his eyes taking an even slower exploration of her body than earlier. “Holy fuck,” he said. Closing the door, he flicked off the overhead light, the room suddenly glowing soft pink.
“You like?”
He sure as hell seemed to as he prowled ever closer. Della had loved the purple set the second she’d laid eyes on it. Alternate panels of satin and see-through gauzy fabric were not only tactile but played peek-a-boo with her nipples and her pubic hair, teasing at what was underneath.
“I do.” He pulled up beside the bed. “You’ve been to Frieda’s again, I see.”
She nodded. “For you.” Sure, she got what her friends had said about lingerie being for her, but they were crazy if they didn’t think the way Tucker was looking at her right now wasn’t totally, 100 percent for her and her ego.
“You look…” He trailed off as his hand ventured forward, his index finger stroking over a creamy swell of one breast, whispering over the nipple before falling away.
Easing onto her back, she arched a little and said, “Why are you wearing so many clothes?”
Chapter Sixteen
Watching Tucker undress never got old. The way he toed off his shoes the same time he reefed his shirt off his head tripped her pulse. The way he tore at his belt buckle and ripped down his fly thickened the blood in her veins. The way he stepped out of his Levi’s and his socks stopped the air in her lungs.
The way he didn’t take his eyes off her the whole time made her weak everywhere.
And then there was the reveal of his chest and his abs and his legs. Taut, tanned skin stretched across solid muscles. Wide shoulders, powerful arms, strong quads. Light brown hair dusting his thick forearms and legs.