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  Teasing. Testing. Torturing her with my mouth.

  “Christian,” she gasps, and I know she’s close.

  I stop and set her back on her toes. I want her to come with her toes bouncing on the floor. It’ll be intense. Standing, I steady her, and from my back pocket, I grab the ridged glass dildo and run it over her belly. “Feel this?”

  “Yes. Yes. Cold,” she breathes.

  “Cold. Good. I’m going to put it inside you. And after you’ve come, I’m going to put me inside you.”

  She makes a strangled groan.

  “Legs apart,” I order.

  Ana ignores me. “Ana!”

  Tentatively she moves her feet and I run the end of the dildo up her thigh and oh-so-slowly slip it inside her.

  “Argh!” she groans. “Cold!” Gently to begin with, I pump my hand, knowing that the glass wand is shaped to hit that potent, sweet, sweet spot inside her. This is not going to take long. With my other hand, I circle her waist, holding her close and kissing her throat, inhaling her rousing scent.

  Ana, come apart in my arms.

  She’s so close. So close. My hand continues to move. Harder. Faster. Taking her higher. Her legs are stiffening and suddenly she goes rigid and screams as her climax rips though her. She bucks against her bindings as I thrust the dildo inside her, making her ride out her orgasm. When her head tips back, her mouth slack, I ease it out of her and toss it onto the bed. I unclip first one and then the other carabiner from her shoulder straps, then carry her to the bed.

  I lay her out. Still harnessed. Her hands still tied. I remove the blindfold. Her eyes are closed. I unzip my jeans and swiftly remove them and my boxer briefs. Standing over her, I grab her thighs, lift them to either side of my hips, and slam into her. Then still.

  She cries out and opens her eyes.

  She’s wet. Really wet.

  And mine.

  Our eyes stay on each other. Hers dazed and full of passion. And want. And need.

  “Please,” she whispers, and I flex my ass and start to move. Grinding into her. My fingers grip her thighs and she crosses her legs behind me. Holding me. I rock into her. Back and forth. Back and forth. And as I get closer, I release her legs, which she tightens around me, and I lean over her, my hands on either side of her shoulders, my fingers crushing the red satin sheets. “Come on, baby. Again,” I shout, and my voice is almost unrecognizable to me.

  Ana lets go, taking me with her. I come, long and hard, with a cry and it’s her name.

  Ana.

  I collapse beside her. Utterly. Spent.

  As my reason returns, I lean up over her and unclip the wrist restraints and then pull her into my arms. “How was that?” I murmur.

  I think she says “mind-blowing” before she closes her eyes and nestles into my arms. I grin and hold her close.

  Nina is still singing her heart out. I find the remote on the bed and switch her off, letting silence fall over Ana and me and the playroom. “Well done, Ana Steele. I’m in awe of you,” I whisper, but she’s fast asleep…in the harness. I smile and kiss the top of head.

  Ana, I love you and I love your inner freak.

  Monday, July 18, 2011

  It’s early and Bastille is his usual tyrannical self as we warm up. “Good cross. Again,” he shouts, his words a staccato.

  I jab and land a punch on his palm pad.

  “Again. Jab. Cross.”

  I comply.

  “Change hands. Leg back.”

  My right leg is back and I’m in fight stance.

  “Go.”

  I throw my weight behind my right glove and the sound of leather slapping on leather echoes around the basement gym at Grey House.

  “Good. Again. Keep going. We gotta keep you in shape, Grey. You gotta look good walking down the aisle.” He cackles.

  Ignoring his tone, I rain blows on his palm pads.

  “Cool. Good. Enough.”

  I stop and catch my breath. I’m wired. Ready. Bouncing on my toes. Adrenaline flowing through my veins. I’m ready to strike. I’m on top of the fucking world.

  “I think that’s enough warm-up. Let’s blow the corporate bullshit out of your brain.”

  “You’re on, dude. You are going down.”

  He flashes me a broad, bright grin as he slides his gloves over taped hands. “That’s fighting talk, Grey. You know, your girl is making fine progress. She’ll keep your ass in line. She’ll make one worthy opponent.”

  She’s a worthy opponent now.

  And she keeps my ass in line.

  And I keep hers—

  Don’t think about that now!

  He raises his fists. “Ready, old man?”

  What? I’m ten years his junior.

  “Old. I’ll give you old, Bastille.” I lunge at him.

  Feeling refreshed and ready for the day, I take my seat at my desk and fire up the iMac. Ana is waiting at the top of my inbox.

  From: Anastasia Steele

  Subject: Soaring, In and Out of the Red Room.

  Date: July 18 2011 09:32

  To: Christian Grey

  My dearest Mr. Grey

  It’s hard to know which I prefer: sailing, soaring or the Red Room of Pain Pleasure. Thank you for yet another unforgettable weekend.

  I love flying high in every way with you.

  I am, as ever, in awe of your talents…all of them. ;)

  Your soon-to-be wife xxxx

  My grin in response to Ana’s e-mail is out of control. But I don’t care. I look up when Andrea places a cup of coffee on my desk, and she looks a little disconcerted.

  “Thanks, Andrea.”

  “Shall I ask Ros to come up?” Andrea asks, recovering her composure.

  “Please do.” I clear my throat, wondering what’s bothering my PA. I type a quick response to Ana.

  From: Christian Grey

  Subject: Physical Pursuits

  Date: July 18 2011 09:58

  To: Anastasia Steele

  My darling Anastasia

  I love soaring with you.

  I love playing with you.

  I love doing you.

  I love you.

  Always.

  Christian Grey

  CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

  PS: Which talent in particular? Inquiring minds need to know.

  Ros knocks and enters my office. “Good morning, Christian,” she chimes as I press send. She’s unusually cheerful. Standing, I wave her to the table.

  “Good morning.”

  “Why the frown?” she asks as she sits down.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so upbeat.”

  Her smile could rival the Great Sphinx at Giza. “God is good.”

  I raise my eyebrows. This is very un-Ros-like behavior. Taking a seat opposite her, I wait patiently for an explanation. She shuffles her papers and hands me the agenda for our meeting. It’s obvious she’s not going to elucidate, and I don’t wish to pry. I glance down at the first item. “The Taiwan shipyard?”

  “They’re offering a full disclosure of their P&L, their assets and liabilities. They want to partner with a U.S. company. They’d like to pitch.”

  “They sound eager.”

  “They do,” Ros confirms.

  “I think we should take them up on the offer and conduct our due diligence. Then we can take it from there. Agreed?”

  “I think so. We have nothing to lose at this stage.”

  “Okay. Let’s do it.”

  “I’ll put the paperwork in place.” Ros scribbles down a note and moves to the next item on the agenda.

  There’s an e-mail from Ana waiting for me when I’ve concluded my meeting with Ros.

  From: Anastasia Steele

  Subject: You
r Physical Pursuits

  Date: July 18 2011 10:01

  To: Christian Grey

  Why, Mr. Grey…so rude and so modest! I think you can guess—your sexpertise knows no bounds.

  I’m very much looking forward to seeing the house again this evening.

  I am in a meeting that concludes at 5 p.m. I’ll see you then?

  Ax

  I pick up my phone and dial her direct line.

  “Ana Steele,” she answers in her crisp, executive voice.

  “Ana Steele, Christian Grey.”

  “Ah, my talented fiancé. How are you?”

  “Very well, thank you. Taylor and I will be there at five.”

  “Great. Now, I need to get back to daydreaming…I mean work. I don’t want my boss’s boss’s boss to catch me shirking my responsibilities.”

  “What do you think he’d do if he did?”

  She gasps and the sound sends a thrill through my body. “Something unspeakable,” she whispers.

  “That could be arranged.”

  “Your twitchy palm?”

  “As you know, it’s perpetually twitchy. And not been used to its full potential of late.”

  “Stop. You’re making me moist.”

  What!

  “Moist.” I clear my throat. “Miss Steele. That word should only be reserved for cakes. I like you wet.”

  “I like that you like me wet.” Her voice is almost inaudible.

  I shift in my chair. “Five p.m.,” I whisper.

  “How can you make three syllables sound so alluring?”

  “It’s a curse.”

  “It’s a gift.” Her voice is husky.

  Damn, but she has an answer for everything. “See you at five, Ana. Laters, baby.” I’m on top of the world. She giggles in that delightful way she does, and it takes all my willpower to hang up.

  I bound out of my chair feeling effervescent. Flirting with Ana is always a joy. And so is discussing the latest prototype of the GEH solar tablet with Fred and Barney. I head out of my office, wondering if I should have studied engineering at school.

  As I’m eating my lunch, my phone flashes with Elliot’s goofy face.

  “Bro?”

  “Hey, dude, we still on for later today?”

  “Yes. Ana and I are looking forward to it.”

  “Cool.” He pauses.

  “What is it?” I ask. “Gia? She’ll be there, too.”

  He scoffs. “Like that would ever be a problem. I’m talking bachelor party, hotshot. Saturday.”

  “Elliot—”

  “Don’t be an uptight asshole,” he interrupts. “It’s happening. Even if I have to kidnap you.”

  “Fuck—”

  “No ifs or buts, bro. I’ve got the construction crew on standby with duct tape and a cargo van. Suck it up.”

  My sigh is as exaggerated as I can make it.

  Elliot laughs. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

  “I don’t know, Elliot. It depends what you have planned.”

  “It will take your mind off your woes.”

  Woes? “What fucking woes?”

  “I dunno. Someone trying to kill you?”

  Oh, yes. That. “You’re so crass. Hard to believe we’ve been raised by the same people.”

  He laughs. “Laters, dude.” And he hangs up.

  Asshole.

  But he has a point. Welch has made no further progress in uncovering Charlie Tango’s saboteur. I’ve fired the entire team responsible for her care and maintenance, and I’m still waiting for the report from the NTSB. I’m beginning to wonder if the original FAA assessment was hasty in suspecting malicious interference, or if the damage was a random act of vandalism. Both these outcomes are possible, and give me a modicum of hope, but I don’t want to drop my guard yet. Ana’s safety is all that I care about. I’ve had security ramped up around the GEH Gulfstream and she’s been on two test flights since Charlie Tango’s demise. She’ll be taking us to Europe for our honeymoon.

  I’m still waiting to hear from Burgess about the yacht, but I have my fingers crossed that I’ll get the one I want. I imagine Ana stretched out on deck in a bikini.

  Wait. Does she own a bikini?

  I don’t remember including swimwear in the clothes the personal shopper at Neiman Marcus sourced for Ana. That was a lifetime ago. As my wife, Ana is going to need more clothes—for her vacation, functions, her work… I scroll through my contacts, and when Caroline Acton’s name appears, I press call.

  From: Christian Grey

  Subject: Dedicated Follower of Fashion

  Date: July 18 2011 15:22

  To: Anastasia Steele

  My darling Anastasia

  I have made an appointment for us to meet Caroline Acton at 10:30 on Saturday morning to furnish you with a new wardrobe for our honeymoon.

  No arguments.

  Please.

  Christian Grey

  CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

  From: Anastasia Steele

  Subject: Threads?

  Date: July 18 2011 15:27

  To: Christian Grey

  Me? Argue?

  Do I need a new wardrobe?

  I don’t think so. I have plenty of clothes.

  See you at 5 p.m.

  Ax

  I frown. This is not going to be easy.

  From: Christian Grey

  Subject: New Threads

  Date: July 18 2011 15:29

  To: Anastasia Steele

  Yes. You do.

  Christian Grey

  CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

  From: Anastasia Steele

  Subject: Men with more money than sense…

  Date: July 18 2011 15:32

  To: Christian Grey

  Is brevity the soul of wit?

  Ana

  From: Christian Grey

  Subject: That’s Me.

  Date: July 18 2011 15:33

  To: Anastasia Steele

  Yes. ;)

  Christian Grey

  CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

  From: Anastasia Steele

  Subject: Grrr…

  Date: July 18 2011 15:34

  To: Christian Grey

  I am late for my meeting.

  Stop being so funny.

  Laters. Baby.

  Axx

  My phone buzzes. “Yes, Sam.”

  “Christian, Star magazine has gotten hold of some shots of Anastasia and want to run a story on her; a rags-to-riches kinda thing.”

  “What the fuck?”

  “I know.”

  “What kind of shots?”

  “Nothing salacious.”

  Thank fuck.

  Wait. There shouldn’t be any salacious shots of Ana. Should there?

  “Tell them to fuck off. Rope Ros in. Threaten them with legal action.”

  Sam takes a deep breath. “They’ll be published while you’re away on your honeymoon. The photos are okay. If you want my advice, let them run and ignore them. It will be more of a story if you don’t.”

  I can almost hear his I told you so vibe over the phone. He wanted us to do a photoshoot; maybe I should have conceded.

  Hell.

  “Send me what you have,” I snap.

  Fucking paparazzi!

  A moment later his e-mail pops up in my inbox, and I read the attachment quickly. Grudgingly, I admit he might be right. It’s not that bad, and the photographs of Ana are okay, if grainy. But they also have her yearbook photo. She looks cute. And young. I call him. “Let me think about this.”

  At the new house, we follow Gia Matteo through each room. “I love the staircase,” she enthuses. “I’m not surpri
sed you want to retain it.” She beams at me as if it were my idea.

  Sweetheart. I wanted to knock this house down and build something new. It’s Ana who has fallen in love with the old place.

  “I love the period features,” Ana asserts.

  Gia flashes her a smile. “Of course,” she says. We follow her into the main living area. Elliot hangs back; he’s uncharacteristically quiet, and I wonder if it’s because he has a sexual history with Ms. Matteo—I don’t know. She’s vocal, with some out-of-the-box ideas, and I remember meeting her briefly when she did the renovation to my house in Aspen. She did a fantastic job on that.

  “I love this room,” Gia says when we enter the main living room. “It has an airy quality that I think we should embrace.” She reaches over and pats my arm.

  Damn.

  I’ve spent my life subtly maneuvering myself out of anyone’s reach. It’s a self-defense mechanism that I’ve cultivated over the years to keep people out of my space and make them back the hell off. A step here, a slide to the side there, angling my shoulders left or right to avoid physical contact, I have it down to a fine art. I hate to be touched. No. I fear it. Except by Ana, of course. Kickboxing has helped. I can tolerate the rough and tumble of a match and a firm handshake…or the bite of a cane or lash.

  Don’t think about that.

  But that’s it.

  In addition, I’ve developed a fuck-off-don’t-touch-me glare that’s proven effective.

  However, not on Gia Matteo.

  She’s fucking touchy-feely.

  It’s irritating.

  And not only with me. She reaches out to Elliot as he enters the main living room and gives him what can only be described as a carnal smile as she takes his arm. Elliot gapes at her cleavage, which is on show for all of us. Ana notices, and I see a frown cross her face. I wonder if what my brother says about Ms. Matteo is true. She’s a woman who doesn’t take no for an answer, one of those overtly sexual, tactile women who disregards all boundaries.

  A bit like Elena.

  The unpleasant thought pops into my head and makes me a pause. I don’t remember Gia being that way when we met a couple of years ago.