Tucker glanced up, surprised at Della’s throaty command. So did Betty. But there was a gleam in those blue eyes that accelerated his pulse and had the dog scurrying for the bed.

Bossy. He liked it.

Her eyes met his as she pushed a hand into his hair. “While you’re down there.”

Tucker bit back a groan. Bold. He liked that even better. Witnessing Della grow more and more sure of herself was fucking magnificent.

Her hair was pulled back into a messy kind of knot just above her nape, and the stray chunks that had come loose from around her face were now forming a wispy curtain. It made her look a little fey, a little wild.

The sexual energy vibrating from her bordered on feral.

Tucker felt it in his chest and all the way to his groin, his nostrils flaring as the heavy spice of her arousal taunted him. He wanted nothing more than to reach under her skirt, tear off her panties, and devour her, but that would be fast and furious and dirty, and he couldn’t promise he wouldn’t drag her to the floor afterward and slam himself into her.

Also, they were standing in her doorway.

Curling his hands into his palms to stop himself from running them up the sides of her legs, he stood. If he so much as touched the smooth skin of her calves, her underwear would be toast, and that seemed sacrilegious to anything La Perla. Plus, he wasn’t some kind of…animal. He wouldn’t pounce on her as soon as he came through the door. They had a perfectly good bed with a nice soft mattress in her bedroom, and he would take his time.

“What? No how was your day, dear?”

She shook her head, slow and deliberate. “Nope.” Then she grabbed him by the front of his T-shirt and kissed him.

And she kissed him dirty. She always kissed with unbridled passion. Those little soft whimpery noises she made at the back of her throat drove him slowly crazy, but she’d didn’t often take control, usually letting him lead.

Tonight, she was in the driver’s seat, her mouth twisting and turning on his, her tongue hunting and finding and stroking, her hand fisting in his shirt. And those little noises were guttural now and very, very dirty. The sound of her heavy breathing filled his head, and the wild cocktail of cupcakes and aroused woman intoxicated his senses as she rubbed against him like a frenzied feline.

Like she was trying to melt her way inside him. Like she couldn’t get enough. Escalating her arousal. Escalating his arousal.

It was all he could do to contain her, clamping his palm hard against the small of her back to limit the heat she was stirring. His cock was already hard and responding to the friction in a way that could soon become embarrassing.