Freed: Fifty Shades Freed as told by Christian (Fifty Shades 6)

Plus ça change, Anastasia.

We turn into the parking lot at Ephrata Municipal Airport just before eleven. The promised sun has materialized, dispersing the rain clouds and ushering in pretty white cumulus, perfect for soaring. I’m itching to see my new plane and get her airborne. “Ready?” I ask.

“Yes!” Ana’s eyes shine, her excitement palpable. Like mine.

“It’s so bright, we’re going to need shades.” From the glove box I take my aviators and hand a pair of Wayfarers to Ana, then retrieve the two Mariners caps.

“Thank you. I forgot my sunglasses.”

As I climb out of the car, Sawyer arrives in the Q7 and parks beside the R8. I give him a wave and he rolls down the window. “There’s a pilot’s lounge if you guys want to wait in there,” I say. “Follow us in.”

“Mr. Grey, please.” Sawyer’s tone stops me. And I know he wants to check out the offices before Ana and I go inside. I step out of the way to let Reynolds and Sawyer through.

This is getting old.

I take a deep breath. I won’t let his vigilance dampen my spirits—after all, it’s what I pay him to do. Taking Ana’s hand, I follow our security into the office, where Darius Jackson is waiting.

“Christian Grey,” he calls out, and pumps my hand with a hearty shake. It’s great to see him. He’s a big guy, tall, but rounder than when I last saw him. “You’re keeping well,” he observes.

“As are you, Darius. This is my fiancée, Anastasia Steele.”

“Miss Steele.” Darius gives her a broad, brilliant smile.

“Ana,” she corrects us both, but smiles and takes his hand.

“Darius was my 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.