“We’re here,” he announced happily while jumping out of his side of the car, practically skipping over to hers. He helped her out of the car and together they made their way to the front door. After opening it, Chase lifted Amanda up, cradling her in his arms.
“What are you doing!” she squawked, caught unaware.
“I know it’s not finished and we’re not married, but I’m not taking any chances,” he replied with her securely against him. Then he crossed the threshold and entered the building before setting her down and closing the heavy ornate door behind them.
From the outside, the house looked imposing. From the inside it was immense. After catching her breath, Amanda looked up and around from the imported-marble-floored foyer where they stood. The ceiling was nearly fifty feet above her and there were two grand circular staircases at opposite ends of the foyer that led to the second floor. A large crystal chandelier hung from above her, patiently waiting for its final hookup to illuminate the entranceway. With the implication of his words when he lifted her up settling in, Amanda was speechless.
“Come on,” he coaxed while taking her hand and enjoying her astonishment. “Take a look around while it’s still daylight.”
Chase began to lead her around the first floor of the expansive mansion. The walls were up and plastered, but most rooms were as yet unpainted. The windows were all installed but still needed molding. Random loose electrical wires were exposed and capped. This was obviously a project he had kept to himself for quite a while. They hadn’t even been together a year yet. Either he started building this house the day they met, or he had a lot of people working around the clock.
“I’m leaving all the decorating here to you,’ he announced excitedly when they reached the huge, empty kitchen, “since it’s your specialty and all.”
Amanda nodded mutely, still trying to fully grasp the situation.
Late-day sun streamed in from the sliding glass doors that ran the length of the back of the house. He chattered away enthusiastically about hardwoods and lighting and plumbing fixtures as they continued their tour of the first floor, which consisted of room after spacious room designed for dinning and entertaining, relaxing and living. Many of the rooms had an overhead walkway looking down from the second floor. He took her upstairs where six bedrooms awaited completion, including one in the tower, which was intended to serve as the master suite. It was private and set as far as possible from the rest of the house. It had two rooms plus a bathroom, and the closet was as big as her apartment. She counted seven full and three half bathrooms by the time she was finished with her tour, and they ended back on the ground floor in what resembled a full fairy-tale-style ballroom just beyond the foyer where they first entered.
“This is nothing short of a palace,” Amanda finally said, taking note of the thirty-foot glass doors that went from floor to ceiling in the room and led out to acres of recently cleared land, waiting to be turned into gardens, pools, and tennis courts. “Fit for a king.”
“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, th
ey 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.
Perfect, a word Amanda learned didn’t pertain to her. She wasn’t allowed perfection. She was supposed to strive for it and then settle for everything just short of it. He was able to be all the wonderful things he was as long as she could rationalize that she was accommodating the one need in him he had a reason to be uncomfortable with. Once again, as soon as she began to view her life as a dream, it started resembling more of a nightmare. She hugged him tighter, afraid that with that realization he would disappear, or the roof would come crashing down and kill him and he’d be gone. In the stillness of the moonlit room, her mind began racing, and she began to shiver.
“You cold?” Chase murmured drowsily in response to it, reaching to pull the blanket up to better cover her.
“A little,” she said, cursing that he was such a light sleeper. He could grab a fifteen-minute power nap, usually in a car or a plane, and not only be fully alert, but have the nerve to wake up looking refreshed. She prayed he would fall back asleep until she talked herself down. Hysterical drama was not how one was supposed to follow up a marriage proposal. But this would be about the time she would set herself up for the fall. In retrospect, she was surprised it hadn’t happened already. Amanda squeezed her eyes shut tight, but tears slipped from between her lashes, falling onto his chest. As soon as he heard her tiny sniffle, he awoke fully.
“Baby, are you crying?” Chase asked, his voice laden with concern. “Did I hurt you?”
“No, you didn’t hurt me.” She sniffled again. And that’s the problem.
He waited, readjusting the pillows before settling them back down. His hand reassuringly stroked her back and he quietly asked, “Then what? Bad dream?”
She could’ve lied and told him that she was overwhelmed with their engagement, but he detested lying and caught her every time she tried. “I noticed that we didn’t do . . . that . . . thing we do,” she choked out between fresh tears.
If she wasn’t so upset, he would’ve started laughing. But he still couldn’t keep from smiling. He began to sit back up, grabbing hold of her arm. “You want me to spank you? Come here, we’ll take care of that right now.”
He waited for her to play along, but she didn’t. “No.”
It wasn’t the word itself that stopped him. Occasionally, while being particularly rambunctious and belligerent, she would say it ten times in a row. It was the way she said it. It was his job to know the difference. He let go of her.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
When she didn’t answer, Chase adopted the tone. “Amanda, if you don’t start talking to me, I’m going to give you something to cry about.”
She couldn’t tell if he was serious or just putting on the show. And then she couldn’t decide which of the two choices she wanted to be the truth more.
“It’s a pretty big night for us. I just sort of expected it.”
“Well.” The tone fell by the wayside and was replaced with a chuckle. “There’s no real furniture here. I know you like those big production numbers.”
She was grateful it was too dark for him to see her blush—something after all this time he still had the capacity to make her do. It was the buildup, the banter, and the threats that made for the excitement. She never confessed that to him, but he instinctively knew. And he seemed to enjoy bending her over couches, chairs, and counters almost as much as he did his knee. She had convinced herself that she was doing all of it for his benefit. His teasing served only to remind her that somewhere along the line, it had become more important to her than it was him. Even if it had crossed his mind, he decided against it, because he had the self-control she lacked. Her chin began to tremble and her voice shook. “This isn’t supposed to be about me.”
“You’re right, it’s not about you,” he agreed. “It’s about us.”
This time he pulled gently on her arm, but it was to bring her to him and she began to cry in earnest. Amanda knew that he wasn’t going to let the matter drop until he got the answer he was looking for, which was why she was suddenly so emotional. Chase held her head in his hands and brushed her tears away with his thumbs before kissing her. He lay back down, bringing her with him
“Remember our rule? You’re not allowed to withdraw from me on this topic. Please tell me,” he commanded into the darkness. And as she continued to weep from the safety of his arms, she spilled it all. The theory of the fatal flaw, the fact she wasn’t supposed to have a happy ending but a comfortable, mediocre one and the deep-rooted desire for him to manhandle her while telling herself she was making a sacrifice.
Chase listened until she was finished, her speech ending with an all-cried-out sigh.
“Why does it have to be interpreted as a flaw in either of us?” he asked. “Why does this have to be anything more than a case of two people with the same tastes who were lucky enough to have found each other?”
“But I don’t even do it right,” she said, her voice still shuddering from her jag.
“There’s a right way to do this?” He laughed.
Amanda pulled away from him and sat up, running her hands through her hair. Most of the time, his easygoingness was a treasure, but not now, when she was troubled and full of self-doubt. “You just don’t get it,” she muttered.
This time he didn’t join her, but settled onto his side and propped himself up on a bent elbow. “What? That you love the action, but are bashful about the word? That instead of asking for what you want, you prefer to try to trap me into it?”
“I’m thinking about it all the time. And I’m the walking definition of topping from the bottom,” she confessed.
Chase didn’t need any light to tell she was truly distraught.
“Of course you are. That’s what makes it all so fabulous for me,” he said proudly. “You’re a strong, independent woman who’s fallen for a total male chauvinist who isn’t above tossing you over his knee to prove the point. That’s the best part. It’s what makes it so much fun.”
“From everything I read, it’s not the way of things,” she tried to argue.
“Maybe in some of these relationships it’s a sticking point, but not with me. I’m bigger and stronger, that’s just the fact. I’m going to protect you, even from yourself, because that’s my role. And I’m going to be there to set you straight when you misbehave.”
Chase didn’t need to touch her for Amanda to feel his caress.
“And you let me, because you want what I have to give.”
He wasn’t talking about wealth or celebrity or prestige, though she’d get them by default. He was talking about stern scolding, sound spankings, and explosive orgasms. That happened to come along with hand-holding, castle construction, and countless romantic moments. And all of it combined into the most enigmatic man that ever found his way into her life.
“It makes you crazy when I withhold it. But I have to confess, it’s pretty much the only weapon I have. I never expected you to enjoy it quite so much.”
“You don’t need to sound so smug and arrogant when you point it out,” she said, and laughed weakly.
The Sweet Spot Page 14