Fifty Shades Trilogy Bundle: Fifty Shades of Grey; Fifty Shades Darker; Fifty Shades Freed (120 page)

I start to relax, resting my head against his chest. He smells outdoorsy, slightly sweaty, of body wash—of Christian, the most welcome scent in the world. Tears start to trickle down my face again, tears of gratitude.

“Both engines?” Carrick says again, frowning in disbelief.

“Go figure.” Christian shrugs and runs his hand down my back.

“Hey,” he whispers. He puts his fingers under my chin and tilts my head back. “Stop with the crying.”

I wipe my nose with the back of my hand in a most unladylike way. “Stop with the disappearing.” I sniff and his lips quirk up.

“Electrical failure … that’s odd, isn’t it?” Carrick says again.

“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
the
Christian Grey has been found safe and well?” Kate says.

“Yes. Andrea and my PR people will deal with the media. Ros called her after we dropped her home.”

“Yes, Andrea called me to let me know you were still alive.” Carrick grins.

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

“I think that’s a hint, ladies and gentlemen, that my dear bro needs his beauty sleep,” Elliot scoffs suggestively. Christian grimaces at him.

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

Cary?
Grace looks adoringly at her husband.

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

“Stay,” Christian offers.

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

Christian reluctantly eases me onto the couch and stands. Grace hugs him once more, presses her head against his chest, and closes her eyes, content. He wraps his arms around her.

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

“I’m okay, Mom.”

She leans back and studies him intently while he holds her. “Yes. I think you are,” she says slowly, glances at me, and smiles. I flush.

We follow Carrick and Grace as they make their way to the foyer. Behind me, I’m aware that Mia and Ethan are having a heated whispered conversation, but I can’t hear it.

Mia is smiling shyly at Ethan, and he’s gaping at her and shaking his head. Suddenly she crosses her arms and turns on her heel. He rubs his forehead with one hand, obviously frustrated.

“Mom, Dad—wait for me,” Mia calls sullenly. Perhaps she’s as mercurial as her brother.

Kate hugs me hard. “I can tell some serious shit’s been going down while I’ve been blissfully ignorant in Barbados. It’s kind of obvious you two are nuts about each other. I’m glad he’s safe. Not just for him, Ana—for you, too.”

“Thank you, Kate,” I whisper.

“Yeah. Who knew we’d find love at the same time?” She grins. Wow. She’s admitted it.

“With brothers!” I giggle.

“We could end up sisters-in-law,” she quips.

I tense, then mentally kick myself as Kate stands back to gaze at me with her what-aren’t-you-telling-me look. I flush. Damn, should I tell her he’s asked me?

“Come on, baby,” Elliot summons her from the elevator.

“Let’s talk tomorrow, Ana. You must be exhausted.”

I am reprieved. “Sure. You, too, Kate—you’ve traveled such a long distance today.”

We hug once more, then she and Elliot follow the Greys into the elevator. Ethan shakes Christian’s hand and gives me a quick hug. He looks distracted, but he follows them into the elevator and the doors close.

José is hovering in the hallway as we come out of the foyer.

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

I blush. Why is this awkward?

“Do you know where to go?” Christian asks.

José nods.

“Yeah, the housekeeper—”

“Mrs. Jones,” I prompt.

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

“Thank you,” Christian says politely as he comes to stand beside me, placing his arm around my shoulders. Leaning over, he kisses my hair.

“I’m going to eat whatever Mrs. Jones has put out for me. Good night, José.” Christian wanders back into the great room, leaving José and me at the entrance.

Wow! Left alone with José.

“Well, good night.” José looks uncomfortable all of a sudden.

“Good night, José, and thank you for staying.”

“Sure, Ana. Any time your rich, hotshot boyfriend goes missing—I’ll be there.”

“José!” I admonish him.

“Only kidding. Don’t get mad. I’ll be leaving early in the morning. I’ll see you sometime, yeah? I’ve missed you.”

“Sure, José. Soon, I hope. Sorry tonight was so … shitty.” I smirk apologetically.

“Yeah.” He grins. “Shitty.” He hugs me. “Seriously, Ana, I’m glad you’re happy, but I’m here if you need me.”

I gaze up at him. “Thank you.”

He flashes me a sad, bittersweet smile, and then he goes upstairs.

I turn back to the great room. Christian stands beside the couch, watching me with an unreadable expression on his face. We’re finally alone and we gaze at each other.

“He’s still got it bad, you know,” he murmurs.

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

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

“I thought I’d never see you again,” I whisper. There—the words are out. All my worst fears packaged neatly in one short sentence now exorcised.

“It wasn’t as bad as it sounds.”

I pick up his suit jacket and shoes from where they lie on the floor and move toward him.

“I’ll take that,” he whispers, reaching for his jacket.

Christian gazes down at me as if I’m his reason for living and mirrors my look, I’m sure. He is here, really here. He pulls me into his arms and wraps himself around me.

“Christian,” I gasp, and my tears start anew.

“Hush,” he soothes, kissing my 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,” I breathe. We stand, holding each other, reconnecting and reassuring each other. As I tighten my arms around him, I realize I’m still holding his shoes. I drop them noisily to the floor.

“Come and shower with me,” he murmurs.

“Okay.” I glance up at him. I don’t want to let go. Reaching down, he tilts my chin up with his fingers.

“You know, even tearstained, you are beautiful, Ana Steele.” He leans down and kisses me gently. “And your lips are so soft.” He kisses me again, deepening it.

Oh my … and to think I could have lost … no …
I stop thinking and surrender myself.

“I need to put my jacket down,” he murmurs.

“Drop it,” I murmur against his lips.

“I can’t.”

I lean back to gaze up at him, puzzled.

He smirks at me. “This is why.” From the inside breast pocket he pulls out the small box I gave him that contains my present. He slings the jacket over the back of the couch and places the box on top.

Seize the day, Ana
, my subconscious prods me. Well, it’s after midnight, so technically it’s his birthday.

“Open it,” I whisper, and my heart starts pounding.

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

I grin impishly at him. I feel giddy. He gives me his shy smile, and I melt despite my thumping heart, delighting in his amused yet intrigued expression. With deft fingers, he unwraps and opens the box. His brow creases as he fishes out a small, rectangular, plastic key chain featuring a picture made up of tiny pixels that flash on and off like an LED screen. It depicts the Seattle skyline with the word
SEATTLE
written boldly across the landscape.

He stares at it for a minute and then gazes at me, bemused, a frown marring his lovely brow.

“Turn it over,” I whisper, holding my breath.

He does, and his eyes shoot to mine, wide and gray, alive with wonder and joy. His lips part in disbelief.

The word
YES
flashes on and off on the key ring.

“Happy birthday,” I whisper.

Y
ou’ll marry me?” he whispers, incredulous.

I nod nervously, flushing and anxious and not quite believing his reaction—this man whom I thought I’d lost. How could he not understand how much I love him?

“Say it,” he orders softly, his gaze intense and hot.

“Yes, I’ll marry you.”

He inhales sharply and moves suddenly, grabbing me and swinging me around in a most un-Fifty-like manner. He’s laughing, young and carefree, radiating joyful elation. I grab his arms to hold on, feeling his muscles ripple beneath my fingers, and his infectious laughter sweeps me up—dizzy, addled, a girl totally and utterly smitten with her man. He puts me down and kisses me. Hard. His hands are on either side of my face, his tongue insistent, persuasive … arousing.

“Oh, Ana,” he breathes against my lips, and it’s an exultation that leaves me reeling. He loves me, of that I have no doubt, and I savor the taste of this delicious man, this man I thought I might never see again. His joy is evident—his eyes shining, his youthful smile—and his relief almost palpable.

“I thought I’d lost you,” I murmur, still dazzled and breathless from his kiss.

“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.” Some unnamed but dark emotion crosses his face briefly, distracting me. What isn’t he saying? Before I can ask him, he stills and looks down at me, frowning, and for a second I think he’s going to tell me. I blink up into his speculative gray eyes.

“Wait a minute. You gave this to me before we saw Flynn,” he says, holding up the key chain. He looks almost horrified.

Oh dear, where’s he going with this? I nod, keeping a straight face.

His mouth drops open.

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

Christian blinks at me in disbelief. “So all yesterday evening, when I was begging you for an answer, I had it already?” He’s dismayed. I nod again, trying desperately to gauge his reaction. He gazes at me in stupefied wonder, but then narrows his eyes and his mouth twists with amused irony.

“All that worry,” he whispers ominously. I grin at him and shrug once more. “Oh, don’t try and get cute with me, Miss Steele. Right now, I want …” He runs his hand through his hair, then shakes his head and changes tack.

“I can’t believe you left me hanging.” His whisper is laced with disbelief. His expression alters subtly, his eyes gleaming wickedly, his mouth twitching into a carnal smile.

Holy hell. A thrill runs through me. What’s he thinking?

“I believe some retribution is in order, Miss Steele,” he says softly.

Retribution? Oh shit!
I know he’s playing—but I take a cautious step back from him anyway.

He grins. “Is that the game?” he whispers. “Because I will catch you.” And his eyes burn with a bright playful intensity. “And you’re biting your lip,” he adds threateningly.

All of my insides tighten at once.
Oh my
. My future husband wants to play. I take another step back, then turn to run—but in vain. Christian grabs me in one easy swoop while I squeal with delight, surprise, and shock. He hoists me over his shoulder and heads down the hall.

“Christian!” I hiss, mindful that José is upstairs, though whether he can hear us is doubtful. I steady myself by clasping his lower back, then on a brave impulse, I swat his behind. He swats me right back.

“Ow!” I yelp.

“Shower time,” he declares triumphantly.

“Put me down!” I try and fail to sound disapproving. My struggle is futile—his arm is firmly clamped over my thighs—and for some reason I cannot stop giggling.

“Fond of these shoes?” he asks, amused, as he opens the door to his bathroom.

“I prefer them to be touching the floor.” I attempt to snarl at him, but it’s not very effective as I can’t keep the laughter out of my voice.

“Your wish is my command, Miss Steele.” Without putting me down, he slips off both of my shoes and lets them clatter to the tile floor. Pausing by the vanity, he empties his pockets—dead BlackBerry, keys, wallet, the key chain. I can only imagine what I look like in the mirror from this angle. When he’s finished, he marches directly into his oversized shower.

“Christian!” I scold loudly—his intent is now clear.

He switches the water on to max.
Jeez!
Arctic water spurts over my backside, and I squeal—then stop, mindful once more that José is above us. It’s cold and I’m fully clothed. The chilling water soaks into my dress, my panties, and my bra. I’m drenched and once more I cannot stop giggling.

“No!” I squeal. “Put me down!” I swat him again, harder this time, and Christian releases me, letting me slide down his now soaked body. His white shirt is stuck to his chest and his suit pants are sodden. I am soaked, too, flushed, giddy, and breathless, and he’s grinning down at me, looking so … so unbelievably hot.

He sobers, his eyes shining, and cups my face again, drawing my lips to his. His kiss is gentle, cherishing, and totally distracting. I no longer care that I am fully clothed and soaking wet in Christian’s shower. It’s just the two of us beneath the cascading water. He’s back, he’s safe, he’s mine.

My hands move involuntarily to his shirt as it clings to every line and sinew of his chest, revealing the hair scrunched beneath the white wetness. I yank the shirt hem out of his pants, and he groans against my mouth, but his lips do not leave mine. As I start
to unbutton his shirt, he reaches for my zipper, slowly sliding the clasp down my dress. His lips become more insistent, more provocative, his tongue invading my mouth—and my body explodes with desire. I tug his shirt hard, ripping it open. The buttons fly everywhere, ricocheting off the tiles and disappearing onto the shower floor. As I strip the wet fabric off his shoulders and down his arms, I press him into the wall, hampering his attempts to undress me. “Cufflinks,” he murmurs, holding up his wrists where his shirt hangs sodden and limp.