Stop. Now. Grey.
Taking her hand—the chill has gone, but her hand is still cool—I lead her into the building. As we reach the elevator, I recall our encounter at The Heathman. That first kiss.
Yeah. That first kiss.
The thought wakes my body.
But the doors open, distracting me, and reluctantly I release her to usher her inside.
The elevator is small, and we’re no longer touching. But I sense her.
All of her.
Here. Now.
Shit. I swallow.
Is it because she’s so near? Darkening eyes look up at mine.
Oh, Ana.
Her proximity is arousing. She inhales sharply and looks at the floor.
“I feel it, too.” I reach for her hand again and caress her knuckles with my thumb. She looks up at me, her fathomless eyes clouding with desire.
Fuck. I want her.
She bites her lip.
“Please don’t bite your lip, Anastasia.” My voice is low, full of longing. Will I always want her like this? I want to kiss her, press her into the elevator wall like I did during our first kiss. I want to fuck her here, and make her mine again. She blinks, her lips gently parted, and I suppress a groan. How does she do this? Derail me with a look? I am used to control—and I’m practically drooling over her because her teeth are pressing into her lip. “You know what it does to me.” And right now, baby, I want to take you in this elevator, but I don’t think you’ll let me.
The doors slide open and the rush of cold air brings me back to the now. We’re on the roof, and although the day has been warm, the wind has picked up. Anastasia shivers beside me. I wrap my arm around her and she huddles in to my side. She feels too slight, but her petite frame fits perfectly under my arm.
See? We fit together so well, Ana.
We head out onto the helipad toward Charlie Tango. The rotors are slowly spinning—she’s ready for liftoff. Stephan, my pilot, runs toward us. We shake hands, and I keep Anastasia tucked under my arm.
“Ready to go, sir. She’s all yours!” he roars above the sound of the helicopter engines.
“All checks done?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’ll collect her around eight thirty?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Taylor’s waiting for you out front.”
“Thank you, Mr. Grey. Safe flight to Portland. Ma’am.” He salutes Anastasia and heads to the waiting elevator. We duck down under the rotors and I open the door, taking her hand to help her climb aboard.
As I strap her into the seat, her breath hitches. The sound travels straight to my groin. I cinch the straps extra-tight, trying to ignore my body’s reaction to her.
“This should keep you in your place.” The thought runs through my head, and I realize I’ve said it out loud. “I must say, I like this harness on you. Don’t touch anything.”
She flushes. Finally, some color stains her face—and I can’t resist. I run the back of my index finger down her cheek, tracing the line of her blush.
Lord, I want this woman.
She scowls, and I know it’s because she can’t move. I hand her some headphones, take my seat, and buckle up.
I run through my preflight checks. All instruments are in the green with no advisory lights. I roll the throttles to “fly,” set the transponder code, and confirm that the anticollision light is on. It all looks good. I don my headphones, switch on the radios, and check the rotor rpm.
When I turn to Ana, she’s watching me intently. “Ready, baby?”
“Yes.” She’s wide-eyed and excited. I can’t help my wolfish grin as I radio the tower to make sure that they’re awake and listening.
Once I have permission to take off, I check the oil temperature and the rest of the gauges. They’re all in normal operating range, so I increase the collective, and Charlie Tango, elegant bird that she is, rises smoothly into the sky.
Oh, I love this.
Feeling a little more confident as we gain altitude, I glance at Miss Steele beside me.
Time to dazzle her.
Showtime, Grey.
“We’ve chased the dawn, Anastasia. Now the dusk.” I smile, and I’m rewarded with a shy smile that illuminates her face. Hope stirs in my chest. I have her here when I thought all was lost and she seems happier now than when she walked out of her office. I might just be the free ride, but I’m going to try and enjoy every damn minute of this flight with her.
Dr. Flynn would be proud.
I’m in the moment. And I’m optimistic.
I can do this. I can win her back.
Baby steps, Grey. Don’t get ahead of yourself.
“As well as the evening sun, there’s more to see this time,” I say, interrupting the silence. “Escala’s over there. Boeing there—and you can just see the Space Needle.”
Curious as ever, she cranes her slim neck to look. “I’ve never been,” she says.
“I’ll take you. We can eat there.”
“Christian, we broke up.” I hear the dismay in her voice.
That is not what I want to hear, but I try not to overreact. “I know. I can still take you there. And feed you.” I give her a pointed look and she blushes a lovely pale rose.
“It’s very beautiful up here. Thank you.” She changes the subject.
“Impressive, isn’t it?” I play along—and she’s right, I never get tired of the view from up here.
“Impressive that you can do this.”
Her compliment surprises me. “Flattery from you, Miss Steele? But I’m a man of many talents.”
“I’m fully aware of that, Mr. Grey,” she responds tartly, and I suppress a smirk imagining what she’s referring to. This is what I’ve missed: her impertinence, disarming me at every turn.
Keep her talking, Grey. “How’s the new job?”
“Good, thank you. Interesting.”
“What’s your boss like?”
“Oh. He’s okay.” She sounds less than enthusiastic about Jack Hyde. Has he tried anything with her?
“What’s wrong?” I want to know—has that prick done anything inappropriate? I will fire his ass if he has.
“Aside from the obvious, nothing.”
“The obvious?”
“Oh, Christian, you really are very obtuse sometimes,” she says with playful disdain.
“Obtuse? Me? I’m not sure I appreciate your tone, Miss Steele.”
“Well, don’t, then,” she quips, pleased with herself. I like that she mocks and teases me. She has the ability to make me feel two feet tall or ten feet tall with just a look or a smile—it’s refreshing, and unlike anything I’ve known before.
“I’ve missed your smart mouth, Anastasia.” An image of her on her knees in front of me pops into my mind and I shift in my seat.
Shit. Concentrate, Grey. She looks away, concealing her smile, and stares down at the suburbs passing beneath us while I check the heading. All is well; we’re on track for Portland.
She’s quiet, and I steal the occasional glance at her. Her face is lit with curiosity and wonder as she gazes out at the landscape below and the opal sky. Her cheeks are soft and glowing in the evening light. And in spite of her pallor and the dark circles beneath her eyes—evidence of the suffering I’ve caused her—she’s stunning. How could I have let her walk out of my life?