Squaring her shoulders, her gaze fixed on mine, she grips the hem of my T-shirt and tugs it over her head, wiggling to get it free.
Naked before me, she’s beautiful. “You are Aphrodite, Anastasia.”
She cradles my face in her hands and stoops to kiss me, and I can resist her no more. When her lips touch mine, I reach for her hips and pull her onto the bed so that she’s beneath me. As we kiss, I push her legs apart so I’m resting at the junction of her thighs: my favorite place. She kisses me back with a ferocity that fires my blood, her mouth voracious, her tongue wrestling with mine. She tastes of Armagnac and Ana. My hands are on her. With one, I cup her head and I trail the other up her body, kneading and squeezing as I go. Palming her breast, I tweak her nipple and marvel as it hardens between my fingers.
I need this. I crave this contact.
She groans and tilts her pelvis, compressing my hardening denim-clad cock.
Fuck.
I suck in my breath. And stop kissing her.
What are you doing?
She’s panting, gazing up at me with a scorching, imploring expression.
She wants more.
I flex my hips, pushing my erection against her while watching her reaction. She closes her eyes and moans with carnal appreciation and tugs at my hair. I do it again, and this time she slides against me.
Whoa.
The feeling’s exquisite.
Her teeth scrape my chin and she claims my lips and my tongue in a passionate wet kiss as she and I grind against each other, moving in perfect opposition, creating a sweet, sweet friction that is delicious torture. The heat builds and burns between us, concentrated at our point of connection. Her fingers grasp my arms as her breathing accelerates. Panting, she moves her hand to my lower back and into the waistband of my jeans, where she cups my ass and urges me on.
I’m going to come.
No.
“You’re going to unman me, Ana.” I kneel up and tug down my pants, freeing my erection, and grab a condom from my pocket. I hand it to Ana, who lies, breathless, on the bed.
“You want me, baby, and I sure as hell want you. You know what to do.”
With greedy fingers she rips open the foil packet and unfurls the condom over my straining dick.
She’s so keen. I grin at her when she lies back down.
Insatiable Ana.
I run my nose along hers and slowly, slowly sink into her, claiming her.
She’s mine.
She grasps my arms and tilts her chin up, her mouth open in a wide o of pleasure. Gently, I slide into her again, my arms and hands on either side of her face.
“You make me forget everything. You are the best therapy.” I ease out of her again, and ease back inside her.
“Please, Christian, faster.” She pushes her pelvis up to meet me.
“Oh no, baby. I need this slow.”
Please. Let’s do this slowly.
I kiss her and tug her bottom lip. She twines her fingers in my hair and holds me and lets me continue at my slow, tender pace. On and on and on. She begins to build, her legs stiffening, and she throws her head back as she comes, taking me with her.
“Oh, Ana,” I call, and her name is a prayer on my lips. That unfamiliar feeling is back, swelling in my chest, fighting to get out. And I know what it is. I’ve known forever. I want to tell her I love her.
But I can’t.
The words burn to ashes in my throat.
I swallow and rest my head on her belly, my arms coiled around her. Her fingers tangle in my hair. “I will never get enough of you. Don’t leave me.” I kiss her belly.
“I’m not going anywhere, Christian, and I seem to remember that I wanted to kiss your belly,” she says. And she sounds a little grumpy.
“Nothing stopping you now, baby.”
“I don’t think I can move. I’m so tired.”
I stretch out beside her and pull the comforter over us. She looks radiant but exhausted.
Let her sleep, Grey.
“Sleep now, sweet Ana.” I kiss her hair and hold her.
I never want to let her go.
I WAKE TO BRILLIANT sunshine filtering through the sheers that shroud the windows and Ana soundly asleep beside me. In spite of our late night I feel refreshed; I sleep well when I’m with her.
I climb out of bed, grab my jeans and my T-shirt, and drag them on. If I stay in bed, I know I’ll wake her. She’s too tempting to leave alone, and I know she needs sleep.
In the main room, I sit down at the escritoire and take my laptop out of the bag. My first job is to e-mail Dr. Greene. I ask her if she can come to the hotel to attend to Ana. She responds that the only time she can do is ten fifteen.
Great.
I confirm the time and then call Mac, who’s the first mate on my yacht.
“Mr. Grey.”
“Mac. I’d like to take The Grace out this afternoon.”
“You’ll have fine weather.”
“Yes. I’d like to head out to Bainbridge Island.”
“I’ll get her ready, sir.”
“Great. We’ll see you at around lunchtime.”
“We?”
“Yes, I’m bringing my girlfriend, Anastasia Steele.”
There’s a slight hesitation in Mac’s voice before he says, “Look forward to it.”
“Me, too.”
I hang up, excited that I can show The Grace to Ana. I think she’ll love sailing. She loved the soaring and the flight in Charlie Tango.
I call Taylor for an update, but his phone goes to voice mail. I hope he’s getting some well-deserved sleep or having Ana’s wrecked Audi removed from the garage as he promised. It reminds me that I need to replace her car. I wonder if Taylor has spoken to the Audi dealership. It’s a Sunday, so maybe not.
My phone buzzes. It’s a text from my mother.
GRACE
Darling, it was so lovely to see you and Anastasia last night.
As ever, thank you, and Ana, for your generosity.
Mom X
I’m still smarting over her gold-digger comments. It’s obvious she doesn’t know Ana well. But then, she’s only met Ana three times. It was Elliot who was always bringing girls around…not me. Grace couldn’t keep up.
“Elliot, darling, we get attached to them and then they’re history. It’s heartbreaking.”
“Don’t get attached.” He shrugs, chewing with his mouth open. “I don’t,” he mutters so only I can hear him.
“One day someone will break your heart, Elliot,” Grace says as she hands Mia a plate of mac and cheese.
“Whatever, Mom. At least I bring girls home.” He eyes me with disdain.
“Lots of my friends want to marry Christian. Ask them,” Mia pipes up in my defense.
Ugh. What an unpleasant thought—her poisonous little eighth-grade friends.
“Don’t you have exams to study for, douchebag?” I give Elliot the finger.
“Study. Not me, dickless. I’m out tonight,” he brags.
“Boys! Enough! This is your first night home from college. You haven’t seen each other in ages. Stop arguing. Eat up.”
I take a bite of mac and cheese. Tonight I get to see Mrs. Lincoln…
It’s 9:40 so I order breakfast for Ana and me, knowing it will take at least twenty minutes. I turn back to my e-mails and decide to ignore my mother’s text for now.
Room service arrives just after ten. I ask the young man to keep everything in the cart’s warming drawers and, after he’s set the table, I dismiss him.