by James, E L
“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.
“Sleep well?” I kiss her palm.
She gives me a sleepy nod.
“I have a surprise.”
“Oh?”
“Up.” I slide off the bed.
“What surprise?”
“If I told you…”
She slides her head to one side, unimpressed. She needs an answer.
“Floating above the Pacific Northwest?”
She gasps and sits up immediately. “Soaring?” she asks.
“The very same.”
“We can chase the”—she glances out of the window—“rain?” She looks crestfallen.
“It’s sunnier where we’re going.”
“Then we can chase the midday sun!”
“We can. If you get up!”
She squeals with delight and scrambles out of bed, all haste and long limbs. She stops to give me a swift chaste kiss before dashing into the bathroom.
“It should be warm,” I call after her with a huge grin. I think she’s pleased.
As we speed down I-90 in the R8, fleeing the dreary weather, I allow myself the luxury of being in the moment. My girl is beside me, The Killers are on the sound system, and we’re going soaring, in my new sailplane. All is right in the world.
Flynn would be proud.
Of course, we’re being followed by Sawyer and Reynolds, but a guy can’t have everything.
“Where are we going?” Ana asks, peering through the drizzle.
“Ephrata.”
From the corner of my eye I see she’s perplexed. “It’s about two and a half hours away. It’s where I keep my sailplanes.”
“You have more than one?”
“Two. Now.”
“The Blaník?” she asks, and when I frown she continues, sounding a little less certain. “You mentioned it to the pilot when we went soaring in Georgia.” She looks down at her fingers and starts twisting her engagement ring. “It’s why I bought you the model one.” Her voice drops so I have to strain to hear her.
“The only Blaník I have is that little glider. It has pride of place on my desk at work.” Reaching over, I grasp her knee, briefly recalling the circumstances when she gifted the little model to me.
Don’t go there, Grey.
“I trained to fly in a Blaník. Right now, I have a brand-new, state-of-the-art ASH 30. One of the first in the world. It will be my—our maiden flight in her.” I flash her a quick grin.
Ana’s face erupts into smile and she shakes her head fondly.
“What?” I ask.
“You.”
“Me?”
“Yes. You and your toys.”
“A man has to chill, Ana.” I wink at her and she blushes.
“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”
“That and the ‘are you gay’ question.”
Ana laughs. “You enjoy expensive pursuits.”
“This is not news.”
She stifles her smile and shakes her head again, and I don’t know if she’s laughing at me or with me.
Plus ça change, Anastasia.
We turn into the parking lot at Ephrata Municipal Airport just before eleven. The promised sun has materialized, dispersing the rain clouds and ushering in pretty white cumulus, perfect for soaring. I’m itching to see my new plane and get her airborne. “Ready?” I ask.
“Yes!” Ana’s eyes shine, her excitement palpable. Like mine.
“It’s so bright, we’re going to need shades.” From the glove box I take my aviators and hand a pair of Wayfarers to Ana, then retrieve the two Mariners caps.
“Thank you. I forgot my sunglasses.”
As I climb out of the car, Sawyer arrives in the Q7 and parks beside the R8. I give him a wave and he rolls down the window. “There’s a pilot’s lounge if you guys want to wait in there,” I say. “Follow us in.”
“Mr. Grey, please.” Sawyer’s tone stops me. And I know he wants to check out the offices before Ana and I go inside. I step out of the way to let Reynolds and Sawyer through.
This is getting old.
I take a deep breath. I won’t let his vigilance dampen my spirits—after all, it’s what I pay him to do. Taking Ana’s hand, I follow our security into the office, where Darius Jackson is waiting.
“Christian Grey,” he calls out, and pumps my hand with a hearty shake. It’s great to see him. He’s a big guy, tall, but rounder than when I last saw him. “You’re keeping well,” he observes.
“As are you, Darius. This is my fiancée, Anastasia Steele.”
“Miss Steele.” Darius gives her a broad, brilliant smile.
“Ana,” she corrects us both, but smiles and takes his hand.
“Darius was my flight instructor,” I explain to Ana.
“You were my star pupil, Christian,” he says. “He’s a natural.”
Ana eyes me, and I think it’s pride I see etched on her beautiful face.
“Congratulations on your engagement,” Darius says.
“Thanks. Is she ready?” I ask, because I find Ana’s pride in me difficult to swallow, and of course I can’t wait to see my new sailplane.
“Sure is. She’s all lined up for you. My son Marlon is going to spot.”
“Whoa! Marlon,” I exclaim. Marlon, in his mid-teens now, has close-cropped hair and a smile and handshake that matches his father’s. “You’ve gotten so tall!”
“Kids. They grow.” Darius’s dark eyes are brimming with paternal love.
“Thanks for helping out, Marlon.”
“No worries, Mr. Grey.”
Out on the tarmac, N88765CG is waiting. She is without doubt the most graceful sailplane on the planet: a Schleicher ASH 30, she’s a gleaming white, with an impressive eighty-seven-foot wingspan and a large canopy. Even from this distance it’s obvious she’s a marvel of modern engineering.
She’s yar.
Darius gives me a play-by-play account of her
maiden flight, his face animated by the memory, as the three of us stroll around the glider, taking in her beauty and elegance. “She’s got it all, Christian. It’s like walking on air,” he says, and the awe in his voice is worthy of such a sleek and cutting-edge aircraft.
“She looks mighty fine,” I agree.
I open the canopy and Darius talks me through each of the controls. “And I’ve put more ballast in”—he glances at Ana—“as you’ll need it.”
“I understand.”
“I’ll fetch your chutes.”
“Wow,” Ana exclaims as she gazes into the cockpit. “It has more dials and technical doohickeys than the other glider.”
I laugh. “She sure does.”
“She?”
“She. But more biddable,” I add with a smirk.
Ana cocks her head to one side and squints at me while trying unsuccessfully to hide her amusement. “Biddable, eh?”
I peer down my nose at her. “Easy to handle. Does as she’s told…”
Darius returns and hands me the chutes before heading back into the office. I squat down on the ground with Ana’s, and help her into it, tightening the straps around her thighs. “As you know, Miss Steele, I like my women biddable.”
“To a point, Mr. Grey,” she says as I stand. “Sometimes you like to be defied.”
I grin. “Only by you.” I cinch the shoulder buckles up tight.
“You love doing that, don’t you?” she whispers.
“More than you could ever know.”
“I think I have a clue. Maybe we should do it later.”
I stop and tug her closer so that I can breathe in her scent. “Maybe we should,” I murmur. “I’d like that very much.”
Ana peeks up at me through her lashes. “So would I.” Her words are as soft as the summer breeze and she leans up to kiss me. My breath catches in my throat as her lips touch mine and desire flashes though my body like wild fire. But before I can react, she steps back to give me some room to don my own chute.
Tease.
Eyes blazing, she watches me as I strap on my parachute. I take extra care to tighten my own straps.
“That was hot,” she whispers.
Chuckling, and before I make a complete fool of myself and her, I do another circuit of my new plane. This time I’m examining her for anything that looks loose or out of place; all part of my preflight checks. Darius, who taught me to glide, would expect no less.
She’s in fine, fine shape.
Like my fiancée.
Ana is still watching me as I run a hand over the tip of her wing.
“She’s good,” I say when I return to Ana’s side. She slides on her cap and threads her ponytail through the gap at the back.
“You look mighty fine, too, Miss Steele,” I whisper as I slip on my aviators.
Darius and Marlon join us, and together we push the ASH 30 onto the runway.
Once in position, I help Ana into the front seat of the cockpit and have the pleasure of strapping her in once more. “These should keep you in your place,” I whisper with a wicked grin, then jump in behind her and close the canopy.
Darius attaches the tow cable and, with a thumbs-up sign, heads to the waiting single-engine Cessna Skyhawk.
“Ready?” I ask Ana.
“You bet!”
“Don’t touch anything.”
“Wait.”
“What?”
“You’ve not flown this before.”
I laugh. “Nope. I hadn’t flown the Blaník L23 before, but we survived that.”
She remains silent.
“Ana, they’re all the same really. And you have your chute. Don’t sweat it.”
“Okay.” She sounds a little uncertain.
“Honestly. It’s going to be fine. Trust me.”
I do a thorough check of the controls to orient myself: elevator, ailerons, the stick are all full and free. Straps good. Brakes good and now locked. Canopy locked. Flight instruments good—no cracked glass; shouldn’t be, she’s new.
Darius’s voice crackles over the radio and I let him know that we’re ready. A quick glance to the starboard side reveals Marlon standing by, holding the wing tip as Darius fires up the Skyhawk.
“Here we go! Let’s chase those thermals and the midday sun,” I shout above the shrill whine of the Cessna’s engine.
Darius eases forward, and suddenly we’re racing across the tarmac. Using the pedals at my feet and the stick in front of me, we sail into the air before the Cessna has left the runway.
She’s so quick off the ground!
We climb higher and higher. The Ephrata office building is a child’s toy as it disappears into the distance. Darius banks his aircraft and we sail toward the Beezley Hills, where we are sure to find some lift.
“That was so smooth,” Ana says, an edge of quiet awe in her voice.
“Much smoother than the Blaník,” I agree. ASH is awesome. She’s so light and responsive.
We reach 3,000 feet and I radio Darius to let him know I’m releasing the cable. He’s flown us into a thermal, and as he pulls away, I hold us in a wide circle, keeping the attitude constant as we rise and rise and rise. Washington falls away beneath us in all her checkered glory.
“Wow,” Ana breathes.
“On the port side, you can see the Cascades.”
“Port?”
“Left.”
“Oh, yes.”
There is still a sprinkling of snow kissing the top of the mountains, even in July.
“What’s the water down there?”
“Banks Lake.”
“Christian, this is beautiful.”
We’re at 7,000 feet, and I know we could go higher. We could go for miles and miles, and land in some field leagues and leagues away. The thought is appealing—Ana and I alone in some wilderness—but I don’t think Sawyer or Reynolds or maybe even Ana would appreciate it.
“Look!” Ana calls. Below us, a substantial dust devil swirls into the air.
The lift!
I make a beeline for it and we travel higher. Fast.
“Wow!” Ana cries, with exhilaration. “No acrobatics today?” she asks.
“I’m just getting the feel of her first.”
Fuck it. I love making Ana scream. I wing over and she squeals with delight as we hang above the earth, her hands stretched out, her ponytail tumbling down—the Washington plains beneath us.
“Holy shit!” she exclaims, and I pitch us upright again and Ana laughs and laughs. The sound fills my soul and makes me feel a thousand feet tall. ASH is a dream to fly; she has carried us to the top of the world, where the sun reigns above the clouds; it’s tranquil, and we’re surrounded by a breathtaking view. The love of my life sits before me, happy and free above the earth. And for the first time in a while a sense of peace unfurls within me. We’re together, cradled in the sky, and my heart is full to overflowing.
I don’t want this feeling to end.
This high. It’s intoxicating.
Focus on where you want to be.
How you want to be.
I think you have for the last few weeks. You’ve seemed happier.
Flynn’s words come back to me.
Ana is my happiness. She holds the key.
The thought is too big, too all-encompassing. I know it could swallow me whole if I let it. To distract myself, I ask Ana if she wants a try.
“No. This is your maiden voyage. You enjoy it, Christian. I’m thrilled to come along for the ride.”
I smile. “I bought her for you.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I have a single-seater glider made by the same German company but it’s for solo flights. This sailplane is a dream. She’s fantastic.”
“She is.” Ana looks ahead at the hor
izon. “We are floating on air,” she says, her voice soft and dreamy.
“That we are, baby…that we are.”
We touch down an hour later, a landing that’s as smooth as the takeoff. I’m thrilled with the new plane. She’s everything I knew she would be and more. I’d really like to take her up one day to see how far she’ll take us. Perhaps later this summer.
Darius rushes toward us as I unlock the canopy.
“How was it?” he gushes when he reaches us.
“Amazing. She’s one helluva plane.” Adrenaline is still coursing through my body.
“Ana?” Darius turns his attention to her.
“I agree with Christian. She’s amazing.”
I undo my straps, clamber out, and stretch. Then lean in to unbuckle Ana’s straps.
“This has been inspiring,” I whisper, and give her a swift kiss as I make short work of the seat belt.
Her lips part in surprise but I turn to Darius who is still with us. “Let’s put her in the hangar.”
I’m behind Ana as we walk back to the cars with Sawyer and Reynolds. Her ponytail swings jauntily behind her. She’s still wearing the cap, and beneath the short navy baseball jacket her ass is shielded in tight blue jeans. Her hips sway back and forth, a metronome as she walks, and the rhythm is hypnotizing. She looks so damned hot. I stride around to her side of the car and open the door. “You look great. I don’t think I told you that this morning.”
“I think you did,” she answers with a sweet smile.
“Well, I’d like to tell you again.”
“Back at you, Christian Grey.” She runs her fingers over my white T-shirt, and the feeling echoes through my chest and the rest of my body.
I need to get her home.
But first. Lunch. A late lunch. I close her door and head to the driver’s side.
We stop in Ephrata for pizza.
“Do you mind if we get takeout?” I ask as we enter the small restaurant.
“Eat in your car?”
“Yes.”
“Your immaculate R8?”
“The very same.”
“Sure.” Ana looks puzzled.
“I’m anxious to get home.”
“Why?”
I stare at her, quirking an eyebrow with only one thought in my mind. Why do you think, Ana?