a peck on her lips.
“Hungry?” she asks.
“Yes.”
“I’ll cook us some steaks.”
“So, the panic rooms, how will they work?” Ana asks as she slices into her filet mignon.
“There’s one going into Taylor’s office, and our bedroom closet will become one, too. Press a button and the doors will close and they’ll be impenetrable. There’ll be enough time for help to arrive. That’s the plan, anyway.”
“Oh.” Ana blanches.
I clutch her hand. “It’s merely a precaution. Here’s hoping we never have to use them.” I raise my glass of pinot noir and release her.
“I’ll drink to that.” She clinks my glass with hers.
“Don’t look so worried. I will do everything in my power to keep you safe.”
“It’s not me I’m worried about, Christian. You know that. How…how is the investigation going?”
“Not fast enough, which is frustrating. But don’t think about it. My team is on it.” I don’t want to trouble Ana with our lack of progress. “That steak was delicious.” I put down my knife and fork.
“Thank you,” she says, and pushes her empty plate aside.
“What shall we do now?” I ask, and I pitch my voice low, hoping my intention is clear. We have the whole apartment to ourselves, something we don’t have at home.
Ana peers at me through her lashes. “I have an idea.” Her voice is soft and sultry, and arousing. She skims her tongue across her top lip, and places her hand on my knee. The air is almost crackling between us with my desire.
Ana.
She leans in, giving me a wonderful view of her cleavage, and she murmurs in my ear, “It will involve getting wet.”
Oh. She runs her thumb up the inside of my thigh.
Fuck.
“Yes.” She leans in farther, her breath tickling my ear. “We could…wash the dishes.”
What!
Tease!
Well, this is unexpected. And a challenge.
I stifle my smile, and not taking my eyes off hers, I skim my index finger over her cheek to her chin, then down her throat and her sternum to the v in her dress. Her lips part as her breathing deepens. I pinch the soft fabric between my thumb and forefinger and tug, pulling her toward me. “I have a better idea.”
She gasps.
“A much better idea,” I continue.
“What?”
“We could fuck.”
“Christian Grey!”
I grin. I love shocking Ana. “Or we could make love,” I add.
Smooth, Grey. Smooth.
“I like your ideas better than mine.” Her voice is low and husky for real this time.
“Do you, now?”
“Mm-hmm. I’ll take option one.” Her eyes are smoky.
Ana, you goddess.
“Good choice. Take that dress off, now. Slowly.”
She stands up so that she’s between my thighs, and I think she’s going to do as she’s told, but she bends her head and places her hands on my thighs, then caresses the corner of my mouth with her lips. “You do it,” she whispers against my skin, and every hair on my body stands to attention as desire heats my blood.
“As you wish, Miss Steele.” I reach for the tie that holds her wrap dress together and gently unravel the bow so that her dress falls open.
Ana’s not wearing a bra. Deep joy.
I run my hands up her back as she cups my face and starts to kiss me. Her lips are insistent and her tongue demanding. I groan and close my eyes as we revel in each other’s kiss. Her skin is soft beneath my fingers as I draw her closer, pressing her to my chest. Her hands twist in my hair. And she tugs, forcing my head up.
Fuck.
Ana takes my bottom lip between her teeth and pulls.
Ow.
Ana!
I yank my head back and grab her wrists. “You’re a little wild,” I whisper, awed. She shimmies between my legs, her nipples brushing against my shirt and hardening as I watch. Her hair falls over her shoulders and shrouds her breasts while my pants grow tighter by the second.
What has gotten into her?
She’s exhilarating. Provocative.
“Are you teasing me?” I ask.
“Yes. Take me.”
“Oh, I will. Right here. When I’m ready.”
She gasps, eyes sultry and full of invitation, and I think she must have consumed more pinot than I thought. Gently I steer her backward and release her hands as I rise off my seat. I peer down at her as she studies me from beneath her long lashes.
“How about here?” I pat the top of the stool.
She blinks a couple of times as her lips part in surprise.
“Bend over,” I whisper.
Her teeth dig into her plump lip, leaving little indent marks, and I know she’s doing this on purpose.
“I believe you requested option one,”