Wicked
of it.Well, she’d passed that test. He shook his head. “Come on inside before he gets his dirty paws all over your white top.”
Blair grinned at Rascal, stood, and patted the dog’s head. Rascal stepped up right beside Blair and kept up with her as they headed toward the house. “Oh, I don’t mind. I love dogs.”
Rascal bounded up the steps ahead of them, shooting through the door as soon as Rand opened it. “We won’t see him the rest of the night. He’ll plop down on one of my air conditioner vents and pass out.”
Blair snorted. “Can’t blame him. It’s damn hot out there.”
“He hangs out in the barn all day where’s it cool and shady. Don’t let his sad look fool you.” Rand realized he’d never had Blair in his house before. Hell, he rarely brought women here. Home was his refuge, his place to get away from everything and everyone. To bring a woman in here would be an invasion of his personal space, his privacy. It was a rare occurrence.
Blair, however, was different. He wanted her here, had wanted her here for years. The fact that she showed up on the edge of his property meant something to him. A first step. He’d waited a long time for this.
“You gonna fix my car?” she asked, skimming her fingertips over the polished surface of his grandma’s antique end table.
“Too hot outside right now. Thought we’d relax a bit, have a beer or two, and talk. Wait for it to cool down outside.”
She pulled her sunglasses off and tucked them in her purse, then laid the bag on the table and slipped into the kitchen to wash the dog goobers off her hands. “I suppose I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”
“You always have a choice, Blair.” He wasn’t going to let her take the easy way out. If what was going to happen was what he thought was going to happen, then it was going to be her conscious decision. It didn’t work any other way.
“Not always.” After she dried her hands, she wandered through his living room as if she were taking inventory. Okay, so he was a bachelor, and it wasn’t pretty. A few hand-me-down antique pieces here and there, but otherwise completely threadbare. He kept meaning to do something about that, but frankly, who cared? He never had before. She turned to face him. “How about that beer?”
He grabbed two bottles from the fridge, returning and handing her one.
“Sit down.”
She chose the single recliner. Figured. Safer that way. God forbid she should park on the sofa. He might actually sit next to her.
“I’m sorry about your granddad,” she said, and from the tone of her voice, he knew she meant it. His grandfather had passed on a month ago, though he’d been in a nursing home for two years. The last of his relatives were gone now. All that was left of his family was this house.
“Thanks.”
He had to give her this: she was calm. Or a damn good actress. The tension between them, as it had always been, sizzled the air between them. There was a combustible quality about their altercations. Even the simplest conversation tended to turn down a stormy road, sexual tension crackling between them.
Even now, without her having to say a thing, her body language told him everything she didn’t want him to know. Her back held ramrod straight as if the slightest shift in posture would reveal too much of what she was feeling. Her breasts rising with each sharp intake of breath—oh yeah—that meant she was well aware there was a man in the room. And he was sure as hell aware of her. Every, lick-able inch of her. The way her red hair caught and held the light as it streamed in through the half-opened shutters, surrounding her face like a fiery halo. Her skin, tan and glistening with some kind of body lotion that made it sparkle and smelled like pure, springtime rain. Mixed within all that was the unmistakable musky scent of a woman primed for sex.
He took a long swallow of beer, the cool liquid rolling down his throat and at least quenching the fire there. It did nothing to cool the flame between his legs, though. Then again, nothing would. Not until he had Blair stripped, spread-eagled, and begging him to fuck her. Once those sweet words passed her lips, he’d drive his cock deep in her cunt and finally have what he’d wanted for fifteen long years.
He’d never needed a woman more than Blair. He’d always wanted Blair. And he knew damn well Blair wanted him. But she’d built this wall around herself where he was concerned. Instead, she spent her time with wimpy, useless, pansy-assed toadies who were worthless in and out of the bedroom. No wonder she never kept a man around for long. What good were they?
What Blair showed to the world and what Blair really needed were two different things. Sometimes Rand wondered if he was the only man who saw underneath that cool, controlling exterior to the frightened woman who was afraid to express her true needs.
All she had to do was say the word, and he’d open the world to her. He’d give her everything she’d ever wanted. He’d make her come over and over again.
Come on baby. You know I can give it to you. Just ask me.
Because the one thing Rand would not do is take. If Blair wanted it, she’d have to ask him for it.
Once she did, though, there’d be no going back.
* * *
If Blair held this position for much longer, her back was going to go into spasms. It was like a game of chicken between them. A stare-down until one of them flinched. And she wasn’t about to flinch. But Goddamit, Rand was staring at her. And not just staring at her, but devouring her with his probing, enigmatic eyes that always seemed to be able to see