He missed touching her. Kissing her. Fucking her.
His cock ached for her.
His heart ached for her.
He was a fucking mess. He hoped to God this worked.
“If there’s anything you don’t like,” she started, blocking the door before he could enter, “we’ll of course fix it.”
“Let me inside, Blair,” he said softly. “I’m sure it’s fine.”
“I don’t want it to be fine. I want you to love it.”
Now there was a revelation. And as soon as the words spilled from her lips, he could tell from her wide-eyed look that she regretted saying them.
“I already love it. It has your touch.”
“Whatever. The whole team worked on it, not just me.” She moved out of his way, and he stepped inside.
Wow. It was a completely different house. Gone was the threadbare old furniture that didn’t match. Everything was gone. And nothing looked the same. Yet the minute he walked in he felt . . . comfortable.
It wasn’t stuffy or pretentious or, God forbid, too girly. Yet it wasn’t overly masculine, either. Neutral-colored fabric couches sat perpendicular to the fireplace along with a couple really comfortable-looking thick leather chairs with ottomans. The rest of the living room was bare save for a couple pale wood tables next to the furniture to place drinks and magazines on. The lamps were modern but not funky. The room was practical and useful, yet cozy enough for a woman to enjoy, with a nice rug in front of all the furniture. He could envision kids with toys spread out on that rug enjoying a fire in the winter while he and Blair read the paper and drank coffee.
He walked into the kitchen and found his grandmother’s old trestle table, which had been refinished. It still retained its old charm, still held the old nicks and scratches, just looked . . . better. Not as old and beat-up and junky. Now it really looked antique, but kind of cool.
“There were no chairs with this table, so I . . . the staff scouted a few sales and found several that closely matched,” she said.
Six chairs, to be exact. And they didn’t match perfectly. Which he loved, because his grandma’s chairs hadn’t matched, either. Hell, he didn’t remember where they’d all gone to. Relatives’ homes here and there, no doubt. But he liked that the sturdy wood chairs didn’t look brand-new; they blended in with the rest of the kitchen.
The cabinetry was pine. Sturdy, dark to match Grandma’s table. The countertops had been replaced in a dark granite that was cool as hell, the sink changed to a double one in a shiny chrome. It was modern yet old at the same time. It looked like a country kitchen, but any woman would squeal with delight to cook in there, with its huge refrigerator and double open and island stove.
He was speechless. And damned impressed with Blair’s talent.
“If you’ll follow me down the hall,” Blair said, “I’ll show you the bedrooms.”
He knew he hadn’t said a word yet, that Blair was probably going crazy with worry, but honest to God he didn’t quite know what to say.
“We left three of the rooms undecorated at your request, assuming you’ll want to someday make them into nurseries and children’s rooms,” she said, her voice ending on a squeak. She had to clear her throat as she moved down the hall.
He smiled at that. “Uh-huh.”
“Now for the master bedroom.” She half-turned to him as she pushed the door to his bedroom open, then moved out of his way as she flipped on the light. “I hope you like it.”
There could be a cardboard box and a towel on the floor. As long as Blair was in there with him, he’d like it.
It didn’t have a cardboard box. Instead, the iron bed had a scrolling pattern at the headboard and footboard. Flowers and hearts that a woman would find appealing. What he liked was the matching iron canopy. Strong and sturdy construction, too. His imagination soared into overdrive, imagining Blair trussed up in a standing position, her wrists tied to the top of the iron canopy, her legs bound and spread, her pussy at mouth height.
Goddamn. Fixated on that bed, he didn’t even notice what else was in the room, though he was certain it was nice. Fuck, he didn’t care.
“Did you want to see the rest of the room?”
“No.” He stared at the bed.
“Um, does it meet with your approval?”
He turned to her, not even bothering to hide his erection, now straining hot and thick against the zipper of his jeans. “Does it meet with yours?”
She hinted at a smile. “Of course it does. I designed it.”
“Good. Undress.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. Take your clothes off.”
Her look went from shock to anger in an instant. “Are you out of your mind?”
“No.”
“Look, Rand, I agreed to this job because it’s good for business. You wanted your place redesigned, fine. I did it. You haven’t even said whether you like it or not. Well, the job is done. Whoever you plan to marry is going to love it. You know it, and I know it. I’m leaving. You’ll get my final bill in the mail. Our association is finished.”
“Our association isn’t finished by a long shot, Blair.”
Her gaze narrowed. “You are so goddamned arrogant! How dare you assume that just because we’ve had this lurking sexual tension between us, just because we had one night of really hot sex, that I’m going to strip and fuck you because you order me to, then be content while you carry some other woman over the threshold of the house I designed for her!”
She pivoted, but before she could walk away, he said, “You’re that woman, Blair.”
She stalled, then turned back to him. “What?”
“You’re the woman I want to carry through the front door. White dress and all. You’re the woman I wanted this house redesigned for. You’re the woman I’ve loved and wanted since we were fifteen years old and you started teasing me. You’re the woman I love, Blair. I always have.”
Blair had never in her entire life been at a loss for words. Always a snappy comeback, a sharp retort, she was a master at putting men in their places.
Rand had left her speechless for the first time in her life.
“You love me?”
“Yes. I love you.” He approached her, his body lithe and taut, his cock unashamedly rigid against his jeans. And then he did something that brought tears to her eyes. He dropped down to one knee in front of her. This dominant, infuriating, alpha male went to his knees.
“Marry me, Blair. I love you. I love your strength, your intelligence and sense of humor. I love the life you’ve built for yourself despite where you came from—and yes, I know all about where you came from.”
“You do?”
“Yeah. I’m not your father, and you’re nothing like your mother. You are one kick-ass career woman who takes shit from no man.”
She smiled at that. It was the best compliment he could have ever given her.
“I don’t want to rule your life, baby. I wouldn’t love the woman you’ve become if you were my doormat. I love that you stand up to me and give back whatever I dole out.” He reached for her hand. “I want you in this house with me. I want you in this bed with me every night, fulfilling both our fantasies. Then I want to have babies and build a future together.”