Your Fierce Love (The Bennett Family #7)(80)

"Beanie," I whisper, hand on belly, "I don't know if you realize the momentousness of this, but your dad is proposing to your mom. Just thought I'd spell it out for you." And for myself. I stare at the lovely box, admiring the delicate and classic velvet, the craftsmanship of the logo, working up the courage to open it.

It takes me so long to gather my wits that it's almost time to head out to training when I finally take off the lid.

There is nothing inside. It's absolutely empty.

Confused and apprehensive, I call the culprit.

"Blake Bennett, you do not play with the emotions of a pregnant woman this way. What is the meaning of this?"



       
         
       
        

"Hey, not my fault. Not the best idea to send jewelry through delivery services, because it could get stolen. I'm going to have to bring the ring in person."

I break into a fit of laughter. Genius. Pure genius.

"You're taking sneaky to a whole new level, Blake."

"What was that? Reception's not good. Sounded like you were asking me to fly out to Boston."

"On the next plane, please."





CHAPTER THIRTY

Clara



Six hours-length of the flight from San Francisco to Boston.

Twenty minutes-driving time from the airport to the hotel.

By my calculations, Blake arrived at the hotel about five hours ago, which is how long I've been glancing at the clock on my computer every ten minutes or so. Only two hours to go. I'm as jittery as can be, completing every task, taking the instructor's feedback in stride, applying it dutifully. Twice I stop myself from blurting out some excuse to leave early.

When the day is over, I practically fly out the door. Run down that one block. There's a commotion in front of the elevators, so I take the stairs. My room is on the second floor. The climb doesn't do anything to wear out my energy. On the contrary; by the time I enter my room, I worked myself into a frenzy.

"Blake," I whisper, taking it all in, vases upon vases of flowers spread around the small room. Candles in between, casting a warm and romantic glow. And the man. Oh, the man.

He meets me halfway, hooking an arm around my waist, pulling me flush against him, kissing me hard. Oh God, how I missed him. His scent, the feeling of being held in his strong arms, being pressed against his granite chest. I can't get enough of his warm, determined mouth.

"I missed you," he whispers when we pull apart to breathe.

"I missed you too." That's when I realize I'm level with him, and my feet are dangling in the air. The man lifted me off the floor. Now that's what I call strong.

When he puts me back down, I stand on my toes, but since I'm wearing flats, I still only reach up to his chin. Honestly, I love that he towers over me. It gives me a sense of safety, as if nothing can happen while this mountain of a man has his arms around me. His solid build also has other benefits. There's a lot of Blake to kiss and caress.

"As far as big, romantic gestures go, this is...wow."

He kisses the tip of my nose, smiling before lowering himself on one knee and opening his fist. I shiver lightly as my heart seems to grow in size and then grow some more as I take in the clear-cut diamond and the intricately braided pattern of the white gold band.

"Clara, we've had many firsts, and we'll have many more. But I also want to be your last. Your only. I want to be with you always. When you need someone to believe in you. When you need someone to love you. I'm yours, no matter what. I want you to go to bed with this certainty, and wake up with it too. Will you marry me?" 

My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth, and all I can do is nod. This reckless and totally adorable man is mine. All mine. And I can't wait for the entire world to know it.

I soak in every second of this, to memorize every single detail. I want to look back on this moment years from now and remember everything. I've never been more certain of anything in my life. It's exhilarating.

"Yes, yes, yes!" I say when I find my voice, watching as he slides the ring on. Then I cup his face with both hands and kiss him.

Still on his knees, he takes control of the kiss, descending until he reaches my belly, rubbing his cheek against it, then whispering, "Beanie, I promise you'll have a great name. Don't mind your mom, she's just being hormonal. Nicknames don't count."

He holds my hips in that wonderful way of his, which is both possessive and protective. When he looks up at me, his gaze is molten and wanton. I lean into his touch, closing my eyes. He guides me to the bed, gently laying me on it, removing my clothes one by one while I do the same with his until we're both naked. I can't stop touching him. His broad, strong shoulders, the ridges on his chest marking the defined muscles, and the V-shaped lines leading downward. He's hard already, and kissing me everywhere. My neck, my shoulders.