Ana whirls around, armed with a whisk, and I catch and hold her gaze as I move toward her.
“You’re mine,” Nina sings.
You’re mine.
“Christian, please,” Ana whispers when I reach her.
“Please what?”
“Don’t do this.”
“Do what?”
“This.” She’s breathless.
“Are you sure?” I take the whisk out of her hand before she decides to use it as a weapon.
Ana. Ana. Ana.
I’m close enough to smell her. I shut my eyes and take a deep breath. When I open them, the telltale flush of desire stains her cheeks.
And it’s there between us.
That familiar pull.
Our intense attraction.
“I want you, Anastasia,” I whisper. “I love and I hate, and I love arguing with you. It’s very new. I need to know that we’re okay. It’s the only way I know how.”
She closes her eyes. “My feelings for you haven’t changed,” she says, her voice low and reassuring.
Prove it.
Her eyelashes flutter and her eyes flit to the exposed skin above my shirt and she bites her lip. I suppress my groan as the heat radiating from her body warms us both.
“I’m not going to touch you until you say yes.” My voice is thick with my hunger. “But right now, after a really shitty morning, I want to bury myself in you and just forget everything but us.”
Her eyes meet mine. “I’m going to touch your face,” she says, surprising me.
Okay. I ignore the frisson that runs down my spine. Her hand caresses my cheek and I close my eyes, enjoying the feel of her fingertips teasing my stubble.
Oh, baby.
No need for fear, Grey.
Instinctively, I press my face into her touch, experiencing it, luxuriating in it. I lean down, my lips close to hers, and she raises her face to mine.
“Yes or no, Anastasia?”
“Yes.” The word is no more than an audible sigh.
And I lower my mouth to hers, my lips brushing hers, coaxing her. Tasting her. Teasing her until she opens up for me. I embrace her, one hand on her behind pushing her against my arousal and my other hand running up her back, into her soft hair, where I tug gently. She moans as her tongue meets mine.
“Mr. Grey.” We’re interrupted.
Christ.
I release Ana.
“Taylor,” I acknowledge through gritted teeth as he stands on the threshold of the living room, looking suitably embarrassed but resolute.
What. The. Fuck.
We have an understanding that he makes himself scarce when I’m not alone in the apartment. Whatever he has to say must be important. “My study,” I indicate, and Taylor walks briskly across the room. “Rain check,” I whisper to Ana and follow Taylor out.
“I’m sorry to interrupt you, sir,” he says when we’re in my office.
“You’d better have a good reason.”
“Well, your mother called.”
“Please don’t tell me that’s the reason.”
“No, sir. But you should call her back sooner rather than later. It’s about this evening.”
“Okay. What else?”
“The security team is here, and, knowing how you feel about guns, I thought I should inform you that they’re armed.”
“What?”
“Mr. Welch and I both think it’s a precautionary measure.”
“I loathe guns. Let’s hope they don’t have to use them.” I sound pissed—and I am—I was making out with Anastasia Steele.
When have I ever been interrupted while making out?
Never.
The thought suddenly amuses me.
I’m living the adolescence I never had.
Taylor relaxes, and I know it’s because my mood has changed.
“Did you know Andrea was getting married today?” I ask him, because this has been bugging me since this morning.
“Yes,” he answers with a puzzled expression.
“She didn’t tell me.”
“Probably just an oversight, sir.”
Now I know he’s patronizing me. I raise an eyebrow.
“The wedding is at The Edgewater,” he says quickly.
“Is she staying there?”
“I believe so.”
“Can you discreetly inquire if the happy couple has a room there and get them upgraded to the best suite available? And pay for it.”
Taylor smiles. “Certainly, sir.”
“Who’s the lucky guy?”
“That I don’t know, Mr. Grey.”
I wonder why Andrea has been so mysterious about her wedding. I brush aside the thought as the aroma of something delicious filters into the room and my stomach growls in anticipation.
“I’d better get back to Anastasia.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Was that all?”
“Yes.”
“Great.” We both exit my study. “I’ll brief them in ten,” I say to Taylor when we’re back in the living room. Ana is bending over the stove, retrieving a couple of plates.
“We’ll be ready,” Taylor says, and departs, leaving me alone with Anastasia.
“Lunch?” she offers.
“Please.” I sit down at one of the barstools where she’s laid our places for lunch.
“Problem?” she inquires, as curious as ever. I have yet to tell her about the additional security.
“No.”
She doesn’t push me for any answers as she busies herself plating our lunch of Spanish omelet with salad. I’m impressed she’s so capable and at ease in my kitchen. She sits beside me as I take a bite and the food melts in my mouth.
Hmm. Delicious.
“This is good. Would you like a glass of wine?”
“No thank you,” she replies, and gingerly starts eating her lunch.
At least she’s eating.
I forgo the wine, as I know I’ll be drinking this evening. Which reminds me that I have to call my mother. I wonder what she wants. She doesn’t know I split up with Ana—and now we’re back together. I should let her know that Ana is coming to the ball this evening.
Using the remote, I switch on some relaxing music.
“What’s this?” Ana asks.
“Canteloube, Songs of the Auvergne. This is called ‘Bailero.’ ”
“It’s lovely. What language is it?”
“It’s in old French—Occitan, in fact.”
“You speak French; do you understand it?”
“Some words, yes. My mother had a mantra: ‘musical instrument, foreign language, martial art.’ Elliot speaks Spanish; Mia and I speak French. Elliot plays guitar, I play piano, and Mia the cello.”
“Wow. And the martial arts?”
“Elliot does judo. Mia put her foot down at age twelve and refused.” Ana knows I kickbox.
“I wish my mother had been that organized.”
“Dr. Grace is formidable when it comes to the accomplishments of her children.”
“She must be very proud of you. I would be,” Ana says warmly.
Oh, baby, you couldn’t be more wrong. Nothing is that simple. I’ve been a big disappointment to my folks: school expulsions, dropping out of college, no relationships that they knew of…If Grace only knew the truth about my lifestyle.