“Excellent. Let’s look at these in my study. If you’d like to follow me.”
I know immediately which platinum ring I want. It’s not the biggest; it’s not the smallest. It’s the finest and most elegant ring, with a four-carat diamond of the highest quality, grade D, and internally flawless clarity. It’s beautiful, oval in shape, in a simple setting. The others are too fussy or too gaudy—not right for my girl.
“You’ve made a fine choice, Mr. Grey,” he says, as he pockets my check. “I’m sure your fiancée will love it. And we can get it resized if necessary.”
“Thank you again for coming. Taylor will see you out.”
“Thank you, Mr. Grey.” He hands me the ring box and leaves my study with Taylor. I take one more look at the ring.
I really hope she likes it. I place it in my desk drawer and sit down. I wonder if I should call Ana, just to say hi, but dismiss the idea. Instead I listen to her message once more. Hi…um…it’s me. Ana. Are you okay? Call me.
Just hearing her voice is enough. I return to my work.
WHILE I’M ON THE phone with the Airbus engineer, I stare out of the window at the sky. It’s the same blue as Ana’s eyes. “And the Eurocopter specialist is due Monday afternoon?”
“He’s flying from Marseilles-Provence near our headquarters in Marignane, to Paris, then to Seattle. It’s the earliest we can get him there. We’re fortunate that our base in the Pacific Northwest is at Boeing Field.”
“Good. Just keep me informed.”
“We’ll have our people all over the aircraft as soon as she arrives here.”
“Tell them that I’ll need their initial findings either Monday evening or Tuesday morning.”
“Will do, Mr. Grey.”
I hang up and turn back to my desk.
Ana is standing in the doorway, watching me, looking pensive and a little worried.
“Hi,” she says, and she enters my study and walks around my desk until she’s standing in front of me. I want to ask her why she ran, but she preempts me. “I’m back. Are you mad at me?”
I sigh and lift her into my lap. “Yes,” I whisper.
You ran from me, and the last time you did that, you left me.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” She curls into me, and rests her hand and her head against my chest. Her weight is a comfort.
“Me, neither. Wear what you like.” I place my hand on her knee just to reassure her, but as soon as I touch her, I want more. My desire is like an electric current through my body. It jolts me awake and makes me feel alive. I run my hand up her thigh. “Besides, this dress has its advantages.”
She looks up, her eyes smoky, and I bend to kiss her.
Our lips touch, and my tongue teases hers and my libido lights up like a solar flare. I feel it in her, too. She grabs my head between her hands, as her tongue wrestles with mine.
I groan as my body responds, growing hard. Wanting her. Needing her. I nip her lower lip, her throat, her ear. She moans into my mouth and yanks my hair.
Ana.
I unzip my pants and free my erection, and pull her astride me. Stretching her lacy underwear to the side and out of the way, I sink into her. Her hands grip the back of my chair, the creak of the leather giving her away. She stares down at me and begins to move. Up and down. Fast. Her rhythm is quick and frenetic.
There’s a desperation in her movements, as if she wants to make amends.
Slow, baby, slow.
I put my hands on her hips and slow her down.
Easy. Ana. I want to savor you.
I capture her mouth and she moves at a gentler pace. But her passion is in her kiss and in her touch as she tugs my head back.
Oh, baby.
She moves faster.
And faster still.
This is what she wants. She’s building. I feel it. Climbing higher and higher as she moves, faster and faster.
Ah.
She falls apart in my arms and she takes me with her.
“I LIKE YOUR VERSION of sorry,” I whisper.
“And I like yours.” She nuzzles my chest. “Have you finished?”
“Christ, Ana, you want more?”
“No! Your work.”
“I’ll be done in about half an hour.” I kiss her hair. “I heard your message on my voice mail.”
“From yesterday.”
“You sounded worried.”
She hugs me. “I was. It’s not like you not to respond.”
I kiss her once more and we sit in quiet, peaceful togetherness. I hope she always sits in my lap like this. She fits perfectly.
Finally, she shifts. “Your cake should be ready in half an hour,” she says as she stands.
“Looking forward to it. It smelled delicious, evocative even, while it was baking.” She leans down and plants a tender kiss at the edge of my mouth.