I don’t want to move.
“Your hair still needs cutting.”
I laugh. “That it does, Mrs. Grey. Do you have the energy to finish the job you started?”
“For you, Mr. Grey, anything.” She drops another kiss on my chest and stands up.
“Don’t go.” I capture her hips and turn her around. Quickly, I unzip her skirt so it falls to the floor and I offer Ana my hand so she steps free of it. I take a moment to appreciate my wife wearing nothing but her stockings and garter belt. “You are a mighty fine sight, Mrs. Grey.” Sitting back in the chair, I cross my arms and gawk.
She opens her arms and twirls for me.
“God, I’m a lucky son of a bitch,” I whisper in awe.
“Yes, you are.”
“Put my shirt on and you can cut my hair. Like this, you’ll distract me, and we’ll never get to bed.”
Her wicked smile is sexy. What is she planning? I zip up my pants as she waltzes over to where my shirt lies on the floor, her hips swaying in a sensual rhythm. She bends from her waist, in a pose worthy of Penthouse magazine, leaving nothing to my imagination, collects my shirt, smells it, then, with a coy glance at me, shrugs it on.
Down, boy.
“That’s quite a floor show, Mrs. Grey.”
“Do we have any scissors?” she asks, wearing my shirt and a cheeky smile.
“My study.” My voice is hoarse.
“I’ll go search.” She prances out of the bathroom, leaving me with a semi-hard-on.
Mrs. Mrs. Mrs. Grey.
While Ana is finding scissors, I collect her clothes, fold them, and place them on the vanity. I glance at myself in the mirror, hardly recognizing the man staring back at me.
Giving up a little control in matters sexual with Ana, is extremely satisfying.
I like frantic Ana.
And greedy Ana.
I love that she loves my dick.
Yes. Especially that.
And she’s agreed to be Mrs. Grey in name, too.
I’d call that a good result.
We just have to get better at communicating with each other.
Communicate and compromise.
Ana dashes into the bathroom, catching her breath.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“I just ran into Taylor.”
“Oh.” I frown. “Dressed like that?”
Ana’s eyes widen in alarm at my expression. “That’s not Taylor’s fault,” she says quickly.
“No. But still.” I don’t want anyone eyeing my nearly naked wife.
“I’m dressed.”
“Barely.”
“I don’t know who was more embarrassed, me or him.”
I bet. Poor Taylor. Or lucky Taylor. I’m not sure how I feel about that. I remember the bikini-top incident and push that quickly from my mind.
“Did you know he and Gail are, well, together?” she says, sounding a little shocked.
I laugh. “Yes, of course I knew.”
“And you never told me?”
“I thought you knew, too.”
“No.”
“Ana, they’re adults. They live under the same roof. Both unattached. Both attractive.”
She blushes. Why, I don’t know. I’m glad they have each other.
“Well, if you put it like that,” she mutters. “I just thought Gail was older than Taylor.”
“She is, but not by much. Some men like older women—”
Shit.
“I know that,” Ana snaps, scowling.
Shit. Why did I say that? Will Elena always loom over and between us?
“That reminds me,” I change the subject.
“What?” Ana sounds sulky. She takes the chair and turns it so it faces the sinks. “Sit,” she orders.
My bossy wife.
I do as I’m told, trying to hide my amusement.
See. I can behave.
“I was thinking we could convert the rooms over the garages for them at the new place,” I say. “Make it a home. Then maybe Taylor’s daughter could stay with him more often.” I watch Ana’s reaction in the mirror as she combs my hair.
She frowns. “Why doesn’t she stay here?”
“Taylor’s never asked me.”
“Perhaps you should offer. But we’d have to behave ourselves.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.” Kids. They ruin all the fun.
“Perhaps that’s why Taylor hasn’t asked. Have you met her?”
“Yes. She’s a sweet thing. Shy. Very pretty. I pay for her schooling.”
Ana stops combing my hair, and our eyes meet in the mirror. “I had no idea.”
I shrug it off. “Seemed the least I could do. Also, it means he won’t quit.”
“I’m sure he likes working for you.”
“I don’t know.”
“I think he’s very fond of you, Christian.” She runs the comb through my hair again. It feels nice.
“You think?” I ask. It’s never crossed my mind.
“Yes. I do.”
Well, how about that? I have enormous respect for Taylor. I’d like him to stay working for me—for us, indefinitely. I trust him. “Good. Will you talk to Gia about the rooms over the garage?”
“Yes, of course.” Her lips curl in a secret smile, and