Freed (Fifty Shades as Told by Christian #3) - E.L. James Page 0,40

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