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“You’re not really a party animal, are you?” she says.

“No. More the loner.”

“I’ve figured this out.” Her teeth graze my chin.

“Could say the same about you,” I murmur.

“I’m the wallflower, nose-in-a-book type.”

I skim my lips from her ear to her throat. “You’re too beautiful to be a wallflower.”

She groans and runs her fingernails over my shoulder blades as her body rises to welcome mine. She’s still slick and wet from earlier, and I ease into her and we move together, slower and sweeter this time. Her nails dig into my back as she wraps her legs around mine and she raises her hips to meet me. Over and over. Slow and sweet. She’s building.

I stop.

“Christian, don’t stop. Please,” she begs.

I love it when you beg, baby.

I move slowly and grip her hair at her nape with both hands, so she cannot turn her head. I gaze down at her, marveling at the intricate color of her irises. I move again. Slowly. In. Out. And then stop once more.

“Christian, please,” she breathes.

“It will only ever be you, Ana. Always.”

Don’t be jealous.

“I love you.” I start once more. She closes her eyes and tips her head back and comes around me, triggering my own orgasm. With a cry, I fall to her side to catch my breath. When I resurface, I turn over and pull her to me, kissing her hair.

I love waking up to Ana.

Closing my eyes, I imagine every Saturday could be like this. Anastasia Steele has given me a meaningful future, something I’ve not considered with any seriousness before. And next Saturday, I get the piece of paper that proves it.

She’ll be mine.

Until death do us part.

Ana lying on the cold, hard floor flashes before my eyes.

No!

I rub my face.

Stop. Grey. Stop.

I kiss her hair, breathing in her life-affirming fragrance, and I’m calmer.

It must be about 9 a.m. I grab my phone from my nightstand to check the time. There’s a text from Elliot.

ELLIOT

Good morning, Asshole.

I’m sitting in your vast living room

waiting for you to get your lazy ass

out here. Stop what you’re doing. Now.

You dirty dog.

What the hell?

“What is it?” Ana asks, looking tousled and fuckable.

“Elliot’s here.”

“Outside?” Ana sounds bemused.

I ease her out of my embrace. “No. He’s here.”

She frowns.

“Yeah, I don’t understand it, either.” I get up, stalk into my closet, and drag on a pair of jeans.

Elliot is sprawled on my couch, staring at his phone. “Good morning, hotshot, about time!” he hollers. “Glad you dressed for the occasion.” He eyes my naked chest and feet with amused disdain.

“What in God’s name are you doing here, dude? It’s nine a.m.”

“Yep. Surprise! Get your ass in gear. I got the day planned.”

What? “I’m supposed to take Ana shopping.”

He scoffs, disgusted. “She’s a grown woman. She can do her own damn shopping.”

“But—”

“Dude. I’m saving you. Shopping with women is hell. Go. Put some clothes on, you pervert. And for fuck’s sake have a shower. I can smell the sex from here.”

“Fuck off,” I reply without heat.

He really is a douche sometimes.

“You’ll need hiking boots and sneakers,” he calls after me.

Both?

“How did you get in?” I ask as we head down to the garage in the elevator.

“Taylor.”

“Ah. That’s why we have no security following us.”

“Yep. I figured you were leaving with me, so you’d be fine. Your man Taylor was reluctant, but I persuaded him.”

I nod, pleased. Being continually dogged by our close protection team has been wearing. Ana and I have been holed up at Escala for what feels like forever. Sawyer and Reynolds will keep an eye on her today, though. That’s non-negotiable.

“He’s been very helpful,” Elliot says.

“Who?”

“Taylor.” And with that he hides his sly smile and stops talking.

What does he have planned?

Elliot is in an ebullient mood. It’s catching. We’re cruising in his pickup north along I-5. “Where exactly are we going?” I ask, over the godawful yacht-rock blasting through the cab.

“Surprise,” he shouts. “Relax. It’s going to be fine.”

It’s too late to tell him I’m not a fan of surprises, so I sit back and enjoy the cityscape as we head out of Seattle. We haven’t spent any time together since we went mountain biking near Portland. That was a most interesting night…the first night I slept with Ana. The first night I slept with anyone! And Elliot fucked Ana’s best friend—but then Elliot has fucked many of the women with whom he’s come into contact. It’s not surprising, really; he’s good company. Easygoing. Good-looking, I suppose. Women flock to him, I’ll give him that. He puts them at ease.

He’s always been able to charm our mother. He knows how to treat Grace. I used to envy the easy way he’d spin her around the kitchen floor or hug her or give her a passing peck on her cheek.

He makes it look easy.

As yet, he shows no signs of settling down.

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