She grabs the body wash and squirts some into her hand. Gazing up at me, asking for permission, she waits.
Okay. We’re doing this.
I take a deep breath and nod.
With aching tenderness, she places her hand on my chest. I freeze and slowly she rubs in the soap, skimming small circles on my skin. The darkness is quiet.
But I’m tense.
Everywhere.
Damn it.
Relax, Grey.
She means you no harm.
After a beat, I clasp her hips and watch her face. Her concentration. Her compassion. It’s all there. My breathing accelerates. But it’s cool. I can cope.
“Is this okay?” she asks.
“Yes.” I squeeze the word out.
Her hands flow across my body to wash my underarms, my ribs, down over my belly, and down farther, to the waistband of my pants.
I exhale. “My turn.” Moving us out of the shower stream, I reach for the shampoo. I squirt some onto her head and begin massaging the soap into her hair. She closes her eyes and makes an appreciative noise deep in her throat.
I chuckle, and it’s cathartic. “You like?”
“Hmm…”
“Me, too.” I kiss her forehead and continue kneading her scalp. “Turn around.” She obeys immediately, and I continue to wash her hair. When I’m done, her head is covered in suds. I ease her under the shower once more. “Lean your head back.”
Ana complies, and I rinse out all the soap.
There is nothing I love more than taking care of my girl.
In every way.
She turns around and grabs the waistband of my pants. “I want to wash all of you,” she says. I hold up my hands in surrender.
I’m yours, Ana. Take me.
She undresses me, freeing my erection—and my pants and boxers join the rest of our clothes on the shower floor.
“Looks like you’re pleased to see me,” she says.
“I’m always pleased to see you, Miss Steele.”
We beam at each other while she grabs and soaps a sponge. She surprises me a little when she starts at my chest, and she works her way down to my ready cock.
Oh yes.
She drops the sponge and her hands are on me.
Fuck.
I close my eyes as she tightens her fingers around me. I flex my hips and groan. This is exactly how to spend the early hours of a Saturday morning after a near-death experience.
Wait.
I open my eyes and pin her with my gaze. “It’s Saturday.” I grasp her waist and pull her against my body and kiss her.
No more condoms.
My hand, wet and slick with soap, travels down her body, over her breasts, her belly, down to her sex. I tease her with my fingers while I consume her mouth and her tongue, keeping her head in place with my other hand.
I slip my fingers inside her and she moans in my mouth.
“Yes,” I hiss. She’s ready. I lift her, my hands on her backside. “Wrap your legs around me, baby.” She does as she’s told, wrapping around me like warm, wet silk. I brace her against the wall.
We’re skin on skin.
“Eyes open. I want to see you.” She peers up at me, her pupils large and full of need. Slowly I sink into her, keeping my eyes on hers. I pause. Holding her on me. Holding her up. Feeling her.
“You are mine, Anastasia.”
“Always.”
Her answer makes me feel ten feet tall.
“And now we can let everyone know, because you said yes.”
Leaning down, I kiss her and ease out of her, taking my time. Savoring her. She closes her eyes and tilts back her head as we move together.
Us.
Together.
As one.
I speed up. Needing more. Needing her. Enjoying her. Loving her. Her small cries spur me on, telling me she’s climbing higher and higher. With me. Taking me.
She cries out when she comes, her head back against the wall, and I follow her, finding my release and burying my face in her neck.
Carefully, I sink to the floor as the water stream rains down on us. I hold her face in my hands and I can see that she’s crying.
Baby.
I kiss away each tear.
She shifts so her back is against mine and neither of us says anything. Our silence is golden. Quiet. After all the anxiety of this afternoon and evening, my crash landing, my marathon trek, the endless road trip, I’ve found some peace. I rest my chin on her head, my legs wrapped around her while I hold her in my arms. I love this woman—this beautiful, brave, young woman who will soon be my wife.
Mrs. Grey.
I grin and nuzzle her wet hair, surrendering us both to the cascading water.
“My fingers are pruny,” she remarks, staring down at her hands. I take her fingers in mine and kiss each one.
“We should really get out of this shower.”
“I’m comfortable here,” she says.
Me, too, baby. Me, too.
She sags against me and stares, at my toes I think, and then she chuckles.
“Something amusing you, Miss Steele?”
“It’s been a busy week.”
“That it has.”
“I thank God you’re back in one piece, Mr. Grey.” She’s suddenly serious.
I might not have been here.
Shit.
If…
I swallow as my throat constricts, and an image comes to mind of the ground speeding toward me and Ros in the cockpit of Charlie Tango. I shudder. “I was scared,” I whisper.
“Earlier?”
I nod.
“So you made light of it to reassure your family?”
“Yes. I was too low to land well. But somehow I did.”
She stares at me, fear on her face. “How close a call was it?”
“Close. For a few awful seconds, I thought I’d never see you again.” This feels like a dark, dark confession.
She moves and puts her arms around me. “I can’t imagine my life without you, Christian. I love you so much it frightens me.”
Whoa.
But I feel the same. “Me, too. My life would be empty without you. I love you so much.” I tighten my arms around her and kiss her hair. “I won’t ever let you go.”
“I don’t want to go, ever.” She kisses my throat and I bend down and kiss her.
I’m getting pins and needles in my feet. “Come—let’s get you dry and into bed. I’m tired and you look beat.”
She lifts an eyebrow.
“You have something to say, Miss Steele?”
She shakes her head and stands, waiting for me.
We clear our clothes and I grab my cuff links. Ana dumps our soaking clothes into her sink. “I’ll deal with these tomorrow,” she says.
“Good idea.” I wrap her in a towel and place one around my waist. As we brush our teeth at my sink, she gives me a frothy grin, and we both try not to laugh and choke on the toothpaste when I reciprocate.
I’m fourteen again.
In a good way.
I FINISH DRYING HER hair and she climbs into bed. She looks the way I feel, exhausted. I take another look at the keychain and at my favorite word ever written in the English language.
A word full of hope and possibilities.
She said yes.
I grin and join her in bed. “This is so neat. The best birthday present I’ve ever had. Better than my signed Giuseppe DeNatale poster.”
“I would have told you earlier, but since it was going to be your birthday…” Ana lifts her shoulder. “What do you give the man who has everything? I thought I’d give you…me.”
I place the keychain on my bedside table and snuggle up to Ana, pulling her into my arms. “It’s perfect. Like you.”
“I am far from perfect, Christian.”
“Are you smirking at me, Miss Steele?”