“And a princess,” he added, grinning in the adorable way that made her heart race every time.
She stared at him blankly, once again words forsaking her.
“Mandy,” he told her softly, squeezing her hand, “I’m building this house for you. For us.”
“Seriously?” She laughed, embarrassed and giddy at the same time. She pulled her hand away and crossed her arms over her chest, stepping away from him, looking around again in awe. “This was a pretty big secret to keep to yourself.”
“Well,” he said by way of explanation, “you’re always complaining about how everything in my apartment is made for a giant.”
“I’m not sure this is the right direction.” She laughed again, turning briefly back to him before returning her gaze out the doors at the magnificent view of the sun beginning to set. “If this is your solution to the problem, I think you may have missed the point.”
“No, I didn’t,” Chase replied from behind her. “We’re going to fill this place with Amanda-sized things.”
She probably shouldn’t have been surprised. The size of his apartment and everything in it had become a running joke, but she had never intended for him to take those comments to heart. She already knew he was good at keeping secrets, but figured he was done withholding anything from her. He was also thoughtful and enjoyed doing things in a big way. It was no secret he had money to burn. But this had nothing to do with money; he wasn’t trying to buy her. He wanted to please her. Even if it was sentimental and completely extreme, any discord on her part was met by his immediate reaction to remedy it. It was both a blessing and a curse, the increasing responsibility to protect the image and the ego of an overgrown adolescent who also happened to be a phenom with a fetish. Chase snuck up behind her and wrapped his arms around her, leaning her against him and resting his head on top of hers.
“I thought maybe in a place like this, you could coordinate and throw some of our charity parties. You don’t have to, of course; there’s nothing wrong with the way they’re being done now. But you ran that restaurant so well and you looked like you had fun doing it. You can involve me or not, totally up to you. I just always want you to feel like you have stuff to call your own.”
Sometimes, there was just no bottom to his well of consideration. The suggestion alone brought on visions of summer barbecues and Christmas parties being thrown there. She pictured making him play dress-up and dancing with him in the ballroom, just like Cinderella. And he would do it willingly, because she was his princess. Amanda turned around within the snug confines of his arms, in a room big enough to land a plane, to tell him he really knew how to drive a point home about being a couple. But before she could comment, Chase released her and started to get down on one knee, his hand reaching into his pocket. Her glance caught something in the corner of the enormous room.
“What is that?” she asked, pointing in its direction.
Chase’s gaze followed her finger for a second before turning back to her, his grin full-blown, and resumed what he was doing, kneeling down before her.
“That, my dear, is an air mattress,” he answered before holding out his hands and clearing his throat. “And if you don’t mind, I was sort of in the middle of something.”
She noted the shiny silk sheet that covered it, the fleece blanket neatly folded up and resting on one end of the mattress and several pillows. But she also saw a brilliant sparkle catching her peripheral vision, the exquisite diamond solitaire he held firmly between his fingers. Amanda tried to sound light and casual as she held out her hand to him. All this was doing was making it official. But it still caught her by surprise, and the emotional buildup was unexpected. “We’re sleeping here?”
“I don’t know about sleeping,” he teased, reaching out and slipping the ring on her finger. “But I’m willing to bet we’ll be tired.” He stood and took her back into his arms. He looked down into her face, playfulness replaced with tenderness. “From the moment I saw you, you’ve bewitched me. You drive me to distraction, your antics are exasperating. I can’t think of anything better than spending the rest of my life jumping through hoops for you. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, in a woman and a friend. I love you, Amanda Cole, please tell me you’ll marry me.”
Amanda had barely finished nodding when his lips were on hers. She repeatedly murmured “yes” into his mouth until he silenced her by opening his wider.
“Chase,” she protested weakly after being thoroughly kissed. “Probably a dozen people have access to this place . . .”
“Security is at the bottom of the driveway to tell any overambitious contactors they’re getting the night off. And I’d almost pity the squatter who picked this particular time to trespass,” he mused, before running his tongue lightly across her lips, then dipping inside. His hands drifted slowly down her back to settle on her hips. His thumbs hooked into the belt loops on her jeans and he gave a tug to ensure she was flush against him.
They took their time; after all, they had the rest of their lives. They slowly stripped down and rediscovered each other, this time from a standpoint of commitment and even ownership. He touched and tasted and drank from her with the only greed he’d ever be guilty of, the kind that would be satisfied only by the possession of her soul. And she gave it to him, because there was no one she wanted to have it more.
After they were spent, they rested in the corner of a drafty unfinished room, on a cold marble floor and an air mattress that had significantly less air after seeing some action. She lay across his barrel chest while he hogged the pillows and dozed. Amanda held up her hand and looked at the ring on her finger. The diamond was large, but stopped short of gaudy. Six square carats set within a diamond-lined band that glimmered in a dusk fast approaching darkness. Of course he went with the princess-cut stone. She had just agreed to marry the man who was named in People’s Most Beautiful edition, Bachelor of the Year in GQ. and one of Forbes’s Most Powerful Athletes, all before the ripe old age of thirty. She may belong to him, but he belonged to the whole world. She’d always have to share him, with the exception of his kink, the only dent in his Prince Charming armor.
He held her securely against him, his arm heavy across her shoulders. She listened to him breathing, deep and even. She watched him sleeping. With his eyes closed, the life force tucked away behind his eyelids, he looked so innocent and vulnerable. In the moment, he was content. But she wasn’t. Something was missing. It was as obvious as the ring on her finger and the obligation she felt in committing to him.
He hadn’t indulged in his kink this evening. Instead he had treated her like glass, fragile and with great care, despite his size and hunger. And because of it, her climax had been forced and unsatisfying and she couldn’t quite release. She was sidetracked with waiting for it, anticipating it. Her nuances toward it were met with adoration until she had no choice except to respond. Chase Walker really did have total control over both her body and her mind. The balance was no longer even; maybe it never had been.
Because it meant she wanted it: the sting, the tears, and the dominance more than he needed to inflict it.
Translation: The flaw wasn’t his, but hers. From the first moment she met him, she had unconsciously set out to provoke him, until she finally succeeded. She had tuned in to his vibe, or whatever he called it, all the while labeling it his shortcoming. She wasn’t putting up with it; she was participating in it. And if that was true, that meant he had no flaws. If he had no flaws, then he really was perfect.