Darker (49 page)

“How did you put out the fire?” asks Katherine.

“Extinguisher. We have to carry them—by law,” I answer, but she’s so brusque. I don’t tell her that I used the fire bottles.

“Why didn’t you call or use the radio?” Mom asks.

I explain that I had to switch everything off because of the fire. With the electronics out, I couldn’t radio and we had no cell coverage. Ana tenses beside me. I lift her onto my lap.

“So how did you get back to Seattle?” Mom says, and I tell them about Seb.

“Took forever. He didn’t have a cell, weird but true. I didn’t realize.” I look around at the concerned faces of my family and stop at Mom’s.

“That we’d worry? Oh, Christian! We’ve been going out of our minds!” She’s pissed, and for the first time I feel a tad guilty.
Flynn’s lecture on strong familial ties for adoptees comes to mind.

“You’ve made the news, bro,” says Elliot.

“Yeah. I figured that much when I arrived to this reception, and the handful of photographers outside. I’m sorry, Mom—I should have asked the driver to stop so I could phone. But I was anxious to be back.”

Grace shakes her head. “I’m just glad you’re back in one piece, darling.”

Ana sags against me. She must be tired.

“Both engines?” Carrick mutters again, with disbelief.

“Go figure.” I shrug and run my hand down Ana’s back. She’s sniffling again.

“Hey,” I murmur, and tilt her chin up. “Stop with the crying.”

She wipes her nose with her hand. “Stop with the disappearing,” she says.

“Electrical failure. That’s odd, isn’t it?” Carrick won’t leave it alone.

“Yes, crossed my mind, too, Dad. But right now I’d just like to go to bed and think about all that shit tomorrow.”

“So, the media know that Christian Grey has been found safe and well,” Katherine comments, looking up from her phone.

Well, they snapped me coming home. “Yes. Andrea and my PR people will deal with the media. Ros called her after we dropped her home.”

Sam will be in his fucking element with all that attention.

“Yes, Andrea called me to let me know you were still alive,” Carrick says with a grin.

“I must give that woman a raise,” I mutter. “Sure is late.”

“I think that’s a hint, ladies and gentlemen, that my dear bro needs his beauty sleep.” Elliot gives me a teasing wink.

Fuck off, bro.

“Cary, my son is safe,” Mom announces. “You can take me home now.”

“Yes. I think we could use the sleep,” Carrick replies, smiling down at her.

“Stay,” I offer. There’s enough room.

“No, sweetheart, I want to get home. Now that I know you’re safe.”

I ease Ana onto the couch and stand as everyone starts making a move. Mom hugs me once more and I embrace her.

“I was so worried, darling,” she whispers.

“I’m okay, Mom.”

“Yes. I think you are,” she says, and gives Ana a quick look and a smile.

After some lengthy good-byes, we usher my family, Katherine, and Ethan into the elevator. The doors close and it’s just me and Ana in the foyer.

Shit.
And José. He’s hovering in the hallway.

“Look. I’ll turn in. Leave you guys,” he says.

“Do you know where to go?” I ask.

He nods. “Yeah, the housekeeper—”

“Mrs. Jones,” Ana says.

“Yeah, Mrs. Jones, she showed me earlier. Quite a place you have here, Christian.”

“Thank you,” I respond, and place my arm around Ana and kiss her hair. “I’m going to eat whatever Mrs. Jones has put out for me. Good night, José.” I turn and leave him with my girl.

He’d be a fool to try anything now.

And I’m hungry.

Mrs. Jones hands me a ham-and-cheese sandwich with lettuce and mayo.

“Thank you,” I tell her. “Go to bed.”

“Yes, sir,” she says with a sweet smile. “I’m glad you are back with us.” She leaves, and I wander into the living area and watch Rodriguez and Ana.

I finish my sandwich as he hugs her. He closes his eyes.

He adores her.

Can’t she tell?

She waves him off, then turns and sees me watching her. She walks toward me, then stops and stares.

I drink her in. She’s crumpled and tearstained, and she’s never looked more beautiful to me. She’s a welcome, welcome sight.

She’s home.

My home.

My throat burns.

“He’s still got it bad, you know,” I murmur, to distract myself from my intense emotion.

“And how would you know that, Mr. Grey?”

“I recognize the symptoms, Miss Steele. I believe I have the same affliction.”

I love you.

Her eyes grow larger. Serious. “I thought I was never going to see you again,” she whispers.

Oh, baby.
The knot in my throat tightens. “It wasn’t as bad as it sounds.” I try to reassure her. She collects my jacket and shoes from where they lie on the floor and walks toward me.

“I’ll take that,” I say, retrieving my jacket.

And we stand there, regarding each other.

She’s really here.

She was waiting for me.

For you, Grey.
When I thought no one would ever wait for me.

I pull her into my arms.

“Christian,” she chokes, and she starts crying again.

“Hush.” I kiss her hair. “You know, in the few seconds of sheer terror before I landed, all my thoughts were of you. You’re my talisman, Ana.”

“I thought I’d lost you,” she says. And we stand. In silence. Holding each other. I remember dancing with her in this very room.

Witchcraft.

That was a moment to remember.
Like now
. And I never want to let her go.

She drops my shoes, and it startles me when they bump on the floor.

“Come and shower with me.” I’m filthy from my marathon trek.

“Okay.” She looks up at me but doesn’t release me. I tip her chin back.

“You know, even tearstained, you are beautiful, Ana Steele.” I kiss her tenderly. “And your lips are so soft.” I kiss her again, taking everything she has to offer. She runs her fingers through my hair.

“I need to put my jacket down,” I whisper.

“Drop it,” she orders, against my lips.

“I can’t.”

Leaning back, she cocks her head, bemused.

I let her go. “This is why.” And from the inside pocket I pull out her present to me.

A
na glances at her watch and takes one step back as I drape my jacket over the couch and place the box on top.

What’s going on?

“Open it,” she whispers.

“I was hoping you’d say that. This has been driving me crazy.”

Her smile is broad and she bites her lip, and if I’m not mistaken she’s a little nervous.

Why?

I give her a reassuring smile, unwrap the box, and open it.

Nestled inside is a keychain that shows a pixelated picture of Seattle that flashes on and off. I take it out of the box, wondering what the significance might be, but I’m lost. I have no idea.

I look to Ana for a clue.

“Turn it over,” she says.

I do. And the word “YES” flashes on and off.

Yes.

Yes.

YES.

One simple word. One profound meaning.

A life-changer.

Right here. Now.

My heartbeat spikes and I gawk at her, hoping this means what I think it means.

“Happy birthday,” she whispers.

“You’ll marry me?”

I don’t believe it.

She nods.

I still don’t believe it. “Say it.” I need to hear it from her lips.

“Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Joy bursts in my heart—in my head, in my body, in my soul. It’s exhilarating. It’s overwhelming. Brimming with elation, I lunge forward and gather her in my arms and swing her around, laughing as I do. She clutches my biceps, her eyes shining, as she laughs, too.

I stop, set her on her feet, and grab her face and kiss her. My lips tease hers and she opens for me, like a flower: my sweet Anastasia.

“Oh, Ana,” I whisper, in adoration, my lips brushing the corner of her mouth.

“I thought I’d lost you,” she says, and she looks a little dazed.

“Baby, it will take more than a malfunctioning 135 to keep me away from you.”

“135?”

“
Charlie Tango
. She’s a Eurocopter EC135, the safest in its class.”

But not today.

“Wait a minute.” I hold up the keychain. “You gave this to me before we saw Flynn.”

Her smile is a little smug as she nods.

What?

Anastasia Steele!

“I wanted you to know that whatever Flynn said, it wouldn’t make a difference to me.”

“So all yesterday evening, when I was begging you for an answer, I had it already?” I’m feeling breathless—giddy, even—and a little pissed off.

What the hell?

I don’t know whether to be angry or celebratory. She confounds me, even now.

Well, Grey, what are you going to do about it?

“All that worry,” I murmur darkly. She gives me an impish grin and shrugs once more. “Oh, don’t try and get cute with me, Miss Steele. Right now, I want—”

I had the answer all the time.

I want her.

Here.

Now.

No. Wait.

“I can’t believe you left me hanging.”

She watches my expression as I construct a plan. Something worthy of such audacity. “I believe some retribution is in order, Miss Steele.” My voice is low. Ominous.

Ana takes a cautious step back. Is she going to run? “Is that the game? Because I will catch you.” Her smile is playful and infectious. “And you’re biting your lip,” I add.

She takes another step back and turns to run, but I pounce and grab her. She squeals and I hoist her over my shoulder, and head for my—no,
our
—bathroom.

“Christian!” She swats my behind.

I swat hers back. Hard.

“Ow!” she yelps.

“Shower time,” I declare, as I carry her down the corridor.

“Put me down!” She squirms on my shoulder but my arm is locked over her thighs. What’s really making me smile are her gasps and giggles. She’s enjoying this.

As am I.

My grin is as broad and as wide as the Puget Sound when I open the bathroom door. “Fond of these shoes?” I ask. They look expensive.

“I prefer them to be touching the floor.” Her words are strangled, and I think she’s feigning outrage and trying not to laugh at the same time.

“Your wish is my command, Miss Steele.” I pull off both her shoes and they clatter onto the tiles. By the vanity I empty my pockets: phone, keys, wallet, but most precious of all is my new keychain. I don’t want to get it wet. With my pockets empty, I march into the shower, carrying Ana over my shoulder.

“Christian!” she cries. Ignoring her, I turn on the water and it cascades over us both, but mostly over Ana’s backside. It’s cold. She shrieks and laughs at once, and writhes on my shoulder.

“No! Put me down!” she says between giggles. She swats me once more, and I take pity.

Releasing her, I let her wet, clothed body slide down the length of mine.

She’s flushed. Her eyes bright and beautiful. She’s captivating.

Oh, baby.

You said yes.

I cup her face and kiss her, my lips tender on hers. I worship her mouth, cherishing her. She closes her eyes and accepts my kiss, kissing me back with a sweet hunger under the streaming shower.

The water is warmer now and her hands move to my soaking shirt. She tugs its hem from my pants. And I groan in her mouth, but I can’t stop kissing her.

I can’t stop loving her.

I won’t stop loving her.

Ever.

Slowly, she begins to unbutton my shirt, and I reach for the zipper at the back of her dress. I slide it down, feeling her warm flesh beneath my fingertips.

Oh. The feel of her.
I want more. I kiss her hard, my tongue exploring her mouth.

She moans and suddenly yanks my shirt open, the buttons flying off and landing in the shower.

Whoa.

Ana!

She tugs my shirt over my shoulders and pushes me against the tiles. But she can’t remove it. “Cuff links.” I hold up my wrists. Her fingers make light work of each, and she lets them fall to the floor, followed by my shirt. Her feverish fingers reach for my waistband.

Oh no.

Not yet.

Grasping her shoulders, I spin her around, giving me easier access to her zipper. I complete its journey to its bottom and pull her dress down, just below her breasts. Her arms are still in the sleeves, restricting her movement.

I like that.

Smoothing her wet hair away from her neck, I lean forward, and with my tongue, I taste the water running off her skin, from her neck to her hairline.

She tastes so good.

I run my lips along the length of her shoulder, kissing and sucking, as my arousal strains against my zipper. She braces her hands on the tiles and groans while I kiss my favorite spot beneath her ear. Gently, I unhook her bra and push it down, then cup her breasts in my hands. I moan my appreciation. She has great tits.

Responsive, too.

“So beautiful,” I whisper in her ear. She rolls her head to one side, exposing her neck and throat, and she pushes her breasts into the palms of my hands. She reaches around, still trapped by her dress, and she finds my erection.

Sucking in a breath, I push my impatient cock into her hands. The feel of her fingers through the soaking fabric is erotic.

Gently, I tug on her nipples, first between my thumb and forefinger, then pinch them between my fingers. She whimpers, loud and clear, as they harden and lengthen under my touch.

“Yes,” I whisper.

Let me hear you, baby.

I turn her around and capture her lips with mine, peeling off her dress and her underwear until she’s naked before me; her clothes a sodden mess at our feet.

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.