Freed (Fifty Shades as Told by Christian #3) - E.L. James Page 0,82

well, but I’m too fucking angry. Ignoring him, I check that Ana’s straps are cinched tightly. “You’ll do,” I mutter, and clamber onto the Jet Ski, then offer my hand to Ana. Once she’s behind me, I kick us away from the dock and attach the kill-cord to the hem of my T-shirt. “Hold on,” I growl, and she settles her arms around me, hugging me hard. I tense when she nuzzles my back, because…old memories, and also I’m mad at her. But, truth is, I love being in her arms. “Steady,” I mutter, and twist the ignition, starting the engine. The motor roars to life, and slowly I twist the accelerator and we race forward toward the Fair Lady.

As we zip over the water my temper improves.

When the tender catches up with us, Ana tightens her hold around me, and I open the accelerator to the max and we speed ahead.

Ha! I love this!

This is fun.

Big-time fun.

Enjoy the moment, Grey.

The Mediterranean is calm and flat, so it’s easy to fly over the brine. We tear past the yacht and out toward the open sea. The summer wind in my face, the spray, the speed at which we race across the water, and Ana clinging to me; it’s such a thrill. I steer us in an arc toward the boat—but I want more.

“Again?” I shout at Ana. Her huge smile is all the encouragement I need, and I shoot around the Fair Lady and out to open sea again, in Ana’s tight embrace.

I want to shout my happiness.

But…I’m still a little pissed at her.

One of the young stewards, Gerard, helps Ana off the Jet Ski and onto the Fair Lady’s small platform. Ana scoots up the wooden stairs and waits for me on deck. “Mr. Grey,” Gerard says, and offers his arm. I wave him away, climb off the machine, and follow Ana. She looks lovely, if a little apprehensive. Her skin glows from the fresh air and the kiss of the sun. “You’ve caught the sun,” I say absentmindedly and undo her life vest. I hand it to Greg, another of the stewards.

“Will that be all, sir?” he asks.

“Would you like a drink?” I ask Ana.

“Do I need one?”

I frown. “Why would you say that?”

“You know why.”

Yes, Ana. I’m mad at you.

“Two gin and tonics, please. And some nuts and olives.”

Greg acknowledges my request with a nod. As he leaves, I realize what Ana’s implying. “You think I’m going to punish you?” I ask.

“Do you want to?”

“Yes,” I answer without hesitation, surprising myself.

Her eyes widen. “How?”

Oh, Ana. You sound interested. “I’ll think of something. Maybe when you’ve had your drink.” I let my eyes stray to the horizon as various erotic images float through my mind. “You want to be?”

Her eyes darken. “Depends.” Her cheeks flush with telltale interest.

Oh, baby.

“On what?”

“If you want to hurt me or not.”

For fuck’s sake. I thought we were over this.

Her response irks me, but I lean over and kiss her forehead. “Anastasia, you’re my wife, not my sub. I don’t ever want to hurt you. You should know that by now.” I sigh. “Just…just don’t take your clothes off in public. I don’t want you naked all over the tabloids. You don’t want that, and I’m sure your mom and Ray don’t want that, either.”

Ana pales.

Yes, Ana. You’d be mortified. Ray would be furious. And he’d probably blame me!

Greg arrives with our drinks and places them on the table.

“Sit,” I order, and Ana sits down in one of the director’s chairs. Dismissing the steward with a smile, I take a seat beside her, hand her a drink, and pick up my own. “Cheers, Mrs. Grey.”

“Cheers, Mr. Grey.” She takes a sip, watching me carefully.

What am I going to do with her?

Some kinky fuckery. I think.

It’s been a while.

“Who owns this boat?” she asks, distracting me from my salacious plans.

“A British knight. Sir Somebody-or-Other. His great-grandfather started a grocery store. His daughter is married to one of the crown princes of Europe.”

“Wow!” Ana mouths. “Super-rich?”

“Yes.”

“Like you.”

“Yes. And like you.” I take an olive.

“It’s odd,” she says. “Going from nothing to”—she waves at the deck and the fabulous view of Monte Carlo—“to everything.”

“You’ll get used to it.” I have.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it,” she answers, her voice low.

Taylor appears at my right. “Sir, you have a call.” He hands me my phone.

“Grey,” I snap as I rise from my seat and walk to the rail.

It’s Ros.

Again?

She’s following up on the meeting