Sutton

"STAY THERE," KELLY INSTRUCTS AS HE TURNS off his truck and climbs out, hurrying around to the passenger side. As soon as he opens the door, a whoosh of wind blows snow right in my face and I suck in a breath. No matter how long you've lived in Minnesota, there's no getting used to having the breath sucked from your lungs from the freezing temperatures.

I eye the feet of snow on the ground and then curse my shoe choice this morning when I left the house. My Converse will do little to protect my feet from the fresh powder. Kelly notices the dilemma and turns to give me his back.

"Hop on." He bends a bit, and I laugh as I struggle to climb onto his back for a piggyback ride.

"Don't kill us!" I screech when he loses his balance as he slowly trudges through the unshoveled driveway of the house he has been working on for months. He announced earlier that he had finally finished it and wanted to show me, so we headed here after leaving the tattoo shop.

When he slips again, I tighten my grip around his shoulders and bury my face in his neck, the familiar scent both soothing and intoxicating.

"Sutton," he grumbles, his hot breath coming out in puffy clouds, "are you trying to strangle me to death? Just trust me, baby girl. I got you."

I loosen my grip a bit, but keep my head buried in the warmth of his neck, blocking the harshness of the wind and snow pelting us. The storm seems to be heading into blizzard territory, and we really should head home to avoid being stranded.

"Kell," I say, lifting my head once we're under the protection of the porch which only slightly blocks the wind and snow. "Do you think we should..." I start to say but my words fall off the minute I notice the front door. "It's green."

Kelly struggles to unlock the door one-handed while propping me up with his other hand. I try to wiggle free, but he only secures me tighter, his strong hand tethering me to him. Finally, he gets the door open, and the instant blast of heat beckons us inside. It isn't until the door is securely closed that he finally allows me to hop down and I stare at him expectantly as he stomps his boots on the welcome mat, snow slushing off.

When he seems oblivious to my questioning eyes, I huff, "Kelly!"

His head pops up, confusion on his face. "What?"

"The door is green."

He nods. "I know."

"But..." I start but stop, suddenly unable to form a coherent thought.

Kelly unzips my jacket, pulling the puffy material off and throwing it aside, doing the same with his own next. When I still don't say anything, he pulls me further into the house. In the kitchen, he hoists me onto the giant island in the center of the room and stands between my legs, his hands rubbing up and down my jean-clad thighs.

"The color of harmony," he says as he pulls my stocking hat off and combs his large fingers through my messy hair, inadvertently creating static that has my hair standing on end. He grins at me as I try to contain it.

"You painted the door the color of harmony?" I scrunch up my nose in confusion and he runs his finger down my nose, smoothing out the wrinkles.

"Of course. It's the color you said you'd want for your house." He says this so matter-of-factly like the reason is obvious.

"But why? This isn't my house."

He fingers the tiny heart pendant around my neck, and I realize his fidgeting is telling. He's nervous, but I don't understand why.

"This is my house, Sutton," he says, peering into my eyes, and the confession confuses me more.

"What are you talking about? Your house? You mean your flip, right? Because I know that. Duh, dummy. I've been here with you for months while you worked on it."

He shakes his head. "No, baby girl. Not my flip." He removes his stocking hat and tosses it next to mine on the counter. Running a hand through his messy hair, he blows out a breath. "I never intended to flip this house. I never intended to sell it. This has always been mine."

"I don't get it. I'm confused."

He rolls up the sleeves of his shirt, revealing the newly finished tattoo on his wrist, the clear adhesive covering the series of dots that I now know spell out my name. I'm still trying to comprehend that gesture, wrap my head around the fact that he started it months ago, back when we were still a secret. He was that confident in us, even back in the beginning when it was still so new and tenuous.

"Didn't you find it weird that this is the only house I've ever taken you to, although I've had plenty of other flips since we've been together? Haven't you wondered why this one has taken so freaking long compared to my other houses?"

His question distracts me from pondering the tattoo and I refocus on him and his nervous hands as they continually find different ways of touching me. Now they're back on my thighs, running a path up and down my legs. I place my hands over his to stop his movements.

"We've spent so much time here, baby girl. But you've never been to any of my other flips. Haven't you ever wondered why? Haven't you wondered why this one is taking so long? Why none of my team is ever here working on it?"

"So....this is your house?" I ask, trying to quickly process the words he's saying. "Like you're going to move in and live here? What about your other house? What's wrong with that house? I love that house. It feels like home."

"It's not big enough."

"Big enough?" I laugh. "There's plenty of room! It's just you."

"I'm thinking big picture." He grins and I eye him suspiciously.

"Big picture?"

"Yeah, baby girl. We'll need room for all our kids. And pets."

"Kids?"

"Catch up, Sutton," he says, gripping my thighs tightly. "This house is for us. Our future. Our family."

I blink at him, stunned, still unable to process the words coming out of his ridiculously handsome face.

"You designed this whole house, Sutton. It's yours. Ours. It's for us."

"Wait a minute. Hold on," I say, covering his mouth with my hand, suddenly becoming annoyed. "You said I was helping you out. That you were stuck. We weren't even together then. Back when I first came here. We were barely friends. I was just giving you ideas. I wasn't designing my future house, Kelly."

He pulls my hand away, kissing my palm. "It didn't start that way. I wasn't trying to trick you, Sutton. But once you started giving your ideas, it felt right. And the more time you spent here, the more the idea grew and grew and grew and all I could do was imagine you here. Us. Our family. So I kept inviting you over. Kept getting your opinions. Kept inserting you into the process. Maybe it was subconscious at first. But eventually it was very intentional. I wasn't trying to trick you. I just knew some day we'd live here, and I wanted you to have your dream house."

"The porch swing. The rockers from your house. Jesus, Kelly. You're a sneaky bastard. You've been wooing me with this house, haven't you? Am I just that blind? How could I have not known?"

"Oh, baby girl. I've been wooing you with much more than this house," he says, that cocky smirk slathered across his stupidly handsome face. "But take your time. I know well enough to know that your cute little head is spinning, and you'll need time to process this. We don't need to move in tomorrow. Whenever you're ready. Take as much time as you need."

"Move in? Kelly!" I screech, throwing my arms up in exasperation. They fall onto the counter with a loud, satisfying slap. "You just dropped a bomb on me that I've been designing my dream home this whole time. And now you just casually mention that I'm moving in here. No. Nope. No way. That is not how this is going to work."

I wag my finger at him like he's an errant child and then poke him in the chest as I continue my lecture. "If you want me to move in with you, there will be a conversation. You will ask me the right way. You won't just rip a blind fold off my face and say TA-FUCKING-DA! Here's our new home." I flap my hands in the air, and I'm distantly aware that I might, maybe, perhaps resemble a mad woman, but I carry on anyway. "This might be the sweetest gesture ever in the history of sweet gestures, but it only works if you follow it up like a grown ass man and actually ask me to move in with you."

He chuckles, and I fight the urge to flick him in the forehead like I would my brothers when they piss me off. "I was giving you space, baby girl. This wasn't me asking you. This was me giving you all the information so you could process. Then when I was sure you were of sound mind, then I was going to ask you properly."

"Oh, you were, huh? Or are you just conveniently backtracking because I yelled at you?" I fold my arms over my chest and try to maneuver my legs so he isn't standing between them, but he isn't allowing it. Instead, he circles my legs around his waist, bringing me in closer.

"You know I love it when you're all riled up," he says with amusement. "But I promise you I had every intention of asking you properly."

"When?"

"When? You want a date?"

I nod.

"Fine. Tomorrow. I was going to ask you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? You thought I'd be done processing all of this in a day?"

"Yes," he answers, still wearing the stupid smirk that I hate to admit I find ridiculously sexy. "You'd be far too impatient and anxious if I waited any longer. You'd probably ruin it and demand why I'm not asking you already. I know you, Sutton. I know all about you."

When he boops my nose, I swat his hand away.

"Oh yeah? Since you know me so well, what would my answer be? When you asked me to move in. What would I say?"

"Yes. Obviously. You'd say yes. Then you'd cry. And we'd make out. Then you'd be busy planning all the moving details."

"Fine. Let's skip all of that then."

"Skip what?"

"The wait. I don't need it. I've processed. See, you don't know me as well as you think. I don't need a whole day. I'm ready now. So ask me."

"Right now? Like this?" He gestures around him, his brow scrunched up.

I nod.

"But I had a whole plan," he whines. "It was romantic and shit."

"Improvise."

"Baby girl. Don't ruin this for me."

I blow out a breath. "Kelly," I say, running my hands through his hair and settling them at the nape of his neck. "I don't want to wait. I'm ready with my answer. So ask me."

He bows his head with a groan, and it makes me smile. This man. This sneaky, sneaky man.

When he lifts his head back up, I suck in a breath at the look on his face. Gone is the arrogant smirk. In its place is intensity in the form of moisture pooling in his hazel eyes. "Sutton," he whispers, blinking rapidly as a few tears escape and trail down his cheek. I absently wipe them away and then laugh as I feel his warm hands swiping at the tears on my cheeks.

"You're such a brat," he laughs, cupping my face in his big, rough hands.

I press my lips to his, lingering there for a few beats before pulling away. "I know, but you love me anyway."

"I do," he sighs. "And that's why I want us to make this house our home. With a million kids and pets..."

"Well, we can discuss that number later. Probably closer to two or three..."

He silences me with a finger to my lips. "Shhhh, Sutton. You told me to ask you now, so you're going to have to shut up long enough for me to do it. Ok?"

I nod, pressing my lips tightly together, and then I grin when he shakes his head at me.

"The million kids part will come later, because first I need to make you my wife and spend a shit-ton of time christening all the rooms in this house." He presses his finger to my lips again in anticipation of any comments I may have, and then continues, "So, please, baby girl," he pauses to peer into my eyes, "will you move in here with me and make this our home?"

I nod a few times as a giant smile overtakes my face.

"I'll need your words, Sutton."

"Yes, Kelly. I'll move in here with you."

Without warning, he slams his mouth to mine and gives me one of his famous kisses, the claiming, possessive kind that hints of promises of more. Before he can get too far on those promises, though, I back away, trying to catch my breath.

"Just out of curiosity, what was your plan?"

"What plan?" he asks, kissing a path along my neck. He lowers the collar of my sweater and kisses around my new tattoo. This makes me shiver.

"The one you said you had for asking me to move in."

He yanks my shirt and tank top over my head and tosses them behind him. "Now you'll never know, will you?" He makes quick work of removing my bra and starts on my pants as I lift up to make them easier to remove.

"Maybe save it for when you propose to me then," I say breathily once I feel his lips on my stomach.

"Baby girl," he growls against my skin. "If you don't quit ruining my plans, then there will never be a proposal."

I fall back against the island, laughing at his agitation. "Whatever, you big baby. Like that's even close to true."

Then I feel his hot mouth between my legs, and I suck in a breath, all my comments long forgotten, replaced with breathy moans as my boyfriend sets to work christening the first room in our new home.