at him, and he’s wearing his enigmatic half smile.
As the doors open, he releases my hand and ushers me in.
The doors close and I risk a second peek. He glances
down at me, gray eyes alive, and it’s there in the air
between us, that electricity. It’s palpable. I can almost
taste it, pulsing between us, drawing us together.
“Oh my,” I gasp as I bask briefly in the intensity of this
visceral, primal attraction.
“I feel it, too,” he says, his eyes clouded and intense.
Desire pools dark and deadly in my groin. He clasps
my hand and grazes my knuckles with his thumb, and all
my muscles clench tightly, deliciously, deep inside me.
Holy cow. How can he still do this to me?
“Please don’t bite your lip, Anastasia,” he whispers.
I gaze up at him, releasing my lip. I want him. Here,
now, in the elevator. How could I not?
“You know what it does to me,” he murmurs.
Oh, I still affect him. My inner goddess stirs from her
Oh, I still affect him. My inner goddess stirs from her
five-day sulk.
Abruptly the doors open, breaking the spell, and we’re
on the roof. It’s windy, and despite my black jacket, I’m
cold. Christian puts his arm around me, pulling me into his
side, and we hurry across to where Charlie Tango stands
in the center of the helipad with its rotor blades slowly
spinning.
A tall, blond, square-jawed man in a dark suit leaps
out and, ducking low, runs toward us. Shaking hands with
Christian, he shouts above the noise of the rotors.
“Ready to go, sir. She’s all yours!”
“All checks done?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’ll collect her around eight thirty?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Taylor’s waiting for you out front.”
“Thank you, Mr. Grey. Safe flight to Portland.
Ma’am.” He salutes me. Without releasing me, Christian
nods, ducks down, and leads me to the helicopter door.
Once inside he buckles me firmly into my harness,
cinching the straps tight. He gives me a knowing look and
his secret smile.
“This should keep you in your place,” he murmurs. “I
must say I do like this harness on you. Don’t touch
a
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