“I see.” Surely that’s a good thing—knowledge is power.
“Christian.” Her eyes are full of misgiving, and her words pour out in a steady torrent. “My fiancé owns the company I work for. Roach stared at me a few times during the meeting and I didn’t know what he was thinking. I remember he went a little crazy when he found out we were getting married. The whole meeting was odd. I felt uncomfortable and self-conscious.”
Shit!
“You didn’t tell me he went a little crazy.” Asshole.
“That was a while ago, when he found out we were engaged.”
“Did he make you feel uncomfortable?”
I’ll fire him if he did.
She studies me, her face serious, as if considering my question. “A little. Maybe. Maybe not. Or maybe I’m projecting. I don’t know. Anyway, he confirmed my position as editor.”
“Today?”
“This afternoon.”
Hmm. I’ve not yet removed the moratorium on hiring new staff.
Wily old bastard.
Reaching over, I grasp her hand. “Congratulations. We should celebrate. Were you worried about telling me?”
“I thought you knew and you hadn’t said anything.” Her voice trails off.
I laugh. “No, I didn’t. But it’s great news.”
She looks relieved. Is this why she’s been so quiet? “Don’t sweat it, Ana. To hell with what your colleagues think and what Roach thinks. I hope everyone at the company was reassured by the press release. I’m not planning any changes in the immediate future. And I’m sure your authors were delighted to hear from you.”
“Some yes. Some no. There are a few who still miss Jack.”
“Really? That amazes me.”
“He took a gamble on a couple. They’re loyal. I suspect they’ll move with him when he finds another job.”
He’s never going to find another job if I have my way.
She tightens her fingers around mine.
“Anyway, thank you,” she says.
“What for?”
“Listening.” Her brow furrows once again, and I wonder if she wants to say more.
What, Ana? Tell me.
“Are you ready for the wedding planner?” she asks.
“Of course. Better finish up.” I look pointedly at her food. And to my relief she scoops up a large bite of risotto and pops it into her mouth. I slowly unwind; she just wanted to tell me about her promotion and expected me to know about it.
For fuck’s sake, Grey.
Relax.
“All that remains is to decide what you’ll do after the wedding reception.” Alondra Gutierrez has an easy smile.
“We haven’t discussed that yet.” Ana turns to me.
“It’s in hand,” I tell Ms. Gutierrez, and Ana looks surprised.
Oh, baby. I’ve got this.
“I’ll take this up with you separately, Alondra.”
“Very good, Mr. Grey. I can’t wait to hear!”
“Neither can I,” Ana says.
“You’ll have to wait until the big day.” I smile.
I hope you enjoy what I have planned.
Ana pushes out her bottom lip in the semblance of a pout, but there’s humor in her expression and something else…something darker, more sensual, that speaks to my dick.
Fuck.
Alondra gathers her things, letting us know that we can still make last-minute changes as we thank her for all that she’s done.
We all rise as Taylor appears at the entrance to the living room and Alondra takes her leave. We both watch her depart, and once she’s out of earshot I turn to Ana.
“She’s got it all in hand.”
“Alondra’s good at her job,” she says.
“She is,” I agree. “Now what do you want to do?” I add in a whisper.
Ana whips her eyes to mine and her lips part as she gazes at me. We’re inches from each other. Not touching. But I feel her. All of her. The silence between us gets louder, expanding to fill the space surrounding us as we each drink the other in.
Suddenly, there’s no oxygen in the vast room. There’s only us, only our desire, crackling invisibly between us. I see it in the summer of her eyes. Her pupils growing wider. Darker. Reflecting my thirst. My love. Our love.
“You’ve been so distant.” Her voice is barely audible. “All weekend.”
“No. Not distant. Afraid.”
“No!” she says in a quiet rush of tenderness. She closes the gap between us without moving. Reaching up, her fingertips skim over my stubble, her touch echoing through my every bone and sinew.
I close my eyes as my body responds.
Ana.
Her fingers are at my shirt, undoing the buttons. “Don’t be afraid,” she breathes, and places a kiss on one of my scars above my pulsing heart. I can bear no more: I cup her face and bring her lips to mine, kissing her ferociously. She’s a banquet for a starving man. She tastes of love and lust and Ana.
“Let’s go. Now. Vegas. Get married,” I implore against her fevered lips. “We can tell everyone we couldn’t wait.” She moans and I kiss her again, taking all she’s got to give, drowning in her desire, drowning in her love, aching for her, desperate for her.
When she pulls back we’re both dragging air into our lungs, her dazed eyes on me. “If that’s what you want,” she says, breathless and brimming with compassion.
I crush her to me.
She’d do this for me.
She won’t obey…but she’ll do this.
Damn.
And I know I have to give her a wedding she deserves. Not some rushed affair in a chapel of love in Vegas. My girl deserves the best.
“Come to bed,” I whisper in her ear, and she laces her fingers into my hair as I lift her into my arms.
“I thought you’d never ask,” she says, and I carry her into the bedroom.
Saturday, July 16, 2011
Wake up, sleepy head.” Gently I tug Ana’s earlobe with my teeth.
“Hmm…” She groans and refuses to open her eyes. I tug again. “Ah!” she gripes and her eyes flutter open.
“Good morning, Miss Steele.”
“Good morning.” She reaches up to stroke my face. I’m fully dressed and lying stretched out beside her.