She didn’t usually say the f-word, but good Lord. She was done with men who put her on some kind of untouchable pedestal.

“Look…I understand where that’s coming from, and it’s very sweet. But I want you to…touch yourself and think about me.” Her cheeks warmed at the topic of conversation. She’d never imagined herself ever discussing jerking off with a guy, let alone encouraging him to do it while he thought of her. “It turns me on.” She shrugged. “Maybe that makes me some kind of weirdo or something, but it does.”

“Christ… Della.” He shoved a hand through his hair.

She eyed him, frustration bubbling beneath her skin. “Look…it’s been great taking this slow. I’ve loved learning about my body and what it likes and all the different ways you can kiss and touch and enjoy being with a man. And I like that you’ve been so wonderfully sensitive to my history.”

Hell, she loved that.

“But this is me telling you I want to take it to the next level now. You said I had to be sure, and I am. I really am. Men have dictated what I did with my body for a very large portion of my life. My father. Todd. His father. Please don’t be another one.”

…

Tucker heard her heartfelt plea right down to his groin. Fuck. She was right, he’d been tempering her desires and it didn’t matter that his motives were good and pure—they were misguided. He was just another man in her life taking away her choices, interfering in her autonomy.

His throat was dry—he tried to swallow. “What do you want?”

“I want you,” she said, her gaze frank, her voice husky as she flexed her hips, everything inside her panties rubbing against his long-suffering erection, which surged anew at the blatant stimulus.

He sucked in a breath. She was magnificent atop him, her hair in disarray, her boobs out of her bra, her nipples extra pink in the glow from the lamp and stiff with arousal, looking down at him with the kind of hunger he felt rumbling through every inch of his body. He wanted her, too. Far more than was good for him.

“Inside me,” she specified. “Please.”

Please. Jesus. Tucker didn’t want to be the guy who deprived her of what she wanted or needed. He wanted to be the guy who fulfilled every last wish, every sexy daydream, every hot fantasy.

He wanted to be her yes-man.

“Okay.” He nodded, and his fingers curled into her hips involuntarily as a spike of anticipation hit him square in the chest. “Why don’t you lay back. I’ll grab a condom.”

She grinned, suddenly triumphant. She looked like a sugar addict who’d just been given the keys to the candy shop. “No need. I got some from Frieda’s today.”