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“Why are you grinning at me like that?”

“Because I like you, Della. Maybe a lot. Wasn’t planning on saying it, but I was so fucking thrilled to see you today and I just thought it.”

Della smiles. “Any other thoughts?”

I lean over and kiss her. “Half my thoughts are about your ass.”

“Want to hear something wild?” she asks as I wiggle her shorts down her body.

“Hit me.”

“Half my thoughts are about your shoulders. And forearms.” She touches my shoulder and trails her fingertips down to my hands. “Actually, from here to here.”

“Makes working out worth it,” I say and bend to kiss her. I don’t know when kissing became something I could enjoy on its own. Pretty sure, if we didn’t have the laundry and pizza deadlines hanging over us, I could just sit and kiss her for a good long while. Maybe watch a movie and kiss her whenever I felt like it.

Because this is good. Her hands slide beneath my cut, and I love the tiny noise she makes when I drag my thumb along her jaw. Her mouth warms beneath mine. There’s nothing to win here and nothing to prove. There’s just a quiet moment between the two of us. She tastes faintly of the mints she had in the lab. When I move my hand into her hair, she leans against my palm so naturally that something in my chest pulls tight. I wonder if that makes Della my person.

I’ve spent my whole life collecting things that get left behind. Broken bikes, ugly furniture, even my darn cat that I need to remember to send Ridge a text to go feed. Even people. Stranded bikers, my mom. And maybe, in someways, Della is my reward. Because while she’s been left behind by her asshole parents and brothers, there is absolutely nothing broken about her.

So, if she needs shit carried or needs holding when things get hairy, I’m happy to do that for her. Because this feeling of peace and happiness I get when I’m in her orbit feels…some word that’s way better than good.

Although, if I told her that, she’d probably debate whether that was the right use of the word orbit or something.

“You wanna know what else I like about you, Indy?”

She runs her fingers over my forehead, into my hair. “There’s more?”

“That you don’t feel the need to impress anyone, except your parents, maybe. You just do you. You got some oil?”

“For cooking?”

“No. I’m gonna give you a massage.”

“Oh. I thought we were going to…you know?”

I slip my hand beneath her top and lift it over her head. “We were. But then, I had a better idea.”

“There’s some oil in the bathroom cupboard, the one below the sink. But what about you?”

“Lose the bra and roll over onto your front.”

I go forage in the bathroom. I find a large bath towel, perfectly folded in a stack of three others, all facing the same way. I had no idea bath towels could have such military precision.

The oil is exactly where Della said it would be, and I’m reading the fancy-ass label when I walk back into the bedroom and find Della lying in her perfectly cute little boy short panties in a practical nude color.

Because, of course, she owns practical nude underwear. Probably researched the fabric and checked the breathability and ensured they couldn’t be seen beneath beige khakis.

“I love how you did what I asked,” I say. “Which side of the bed do you sleep on?”

She points to her left, to the side of the bed farthest from the door. I tug back the covers and place the towel down on the sheet. “Move onto this, face down.”

She playfully laughs as she rolls, and I get a flash of those perfect tits that almost makes me wish we’d stuck with the original plan of fucking.

But I sense Della needs something a little different.

“Comfortable?” I ask.

Della makes a little humming noise, which tells me I made the right call. Her eyes are heavy as she yawns.