Fifty Shades Trilogy 02 - Fifty Shades Darker

Miss Steele. I believe I have the same affliction.”
    “I thought I’d never see you again,” I whisper. There—the words are out. All my worst fears packaged neatly in one short sentence now exorcised.
    “It wasn’t as bad as it sounds.”
    I pick up his suit jacket and shoes from where they lie on the floor and move toward him.
    “I’ll take that,” he whispers, reaching for his jacket.
    Christian gazes down at me as if I’m his reason for living and mirrors my look, I’m sure. He is here, really here. He pulls me into his arms and wraps himself around me.
    “Christian,” I gasp, and my tears start anew.
    “Hush,” he soothes, kissing my hair. “You know . . . in the few seconds of sheer terror before I landed, all my thoughts were of you. You’re my talisman, Ana.”
    “I thought I’d lost you,” I breathe. We stand, holding each other, reconnecting and reassuring each other. As I tighten my arms around him, I realize I’m still holding his shoes. I drop them noisily to the floor.
    “Come and shower with me,” he murmurs.
    “Okay.” I glance up at him. I don’t want to let go. Reaching down he tilts my chin up with his fingers.
    “You know even tear-stained, you are beautiful, Ana Steele.” He leans down and kisses me gently. “And your lips are so soft.” He kisses me again, deepening it.
    Oh my . . . and to think, I could have lost . . . no . . . I stop thinking and surrender myself.
    “I need to put my jacket down,” he murmurs.
    “Drop it,” I murmur against his lips.
    “I can’t.”
    I lean back to gaze up at him, puzzled.
    He smirks at me. “This is why.” From the inside breast pocket he pulls out the small box I gave him, containing my present. He slings the jacket over the back of the couch and places the box on top.
    Seize the day, Ana , my subconscious prods me. Well, it’s after midnight, so technically it’s his birthday.
    “Open it,” I whisper, and my heart starts pounding.
    “I was hoping you’d say that,” he murmurs. “This has been driving me crazy.”
    I grin impishly at him. Jeez, I feel giddy. He gives me his shy smile, and I melt despite my thumping heart, delighting in his amused yet intrigued expression. With deft long fingers, he unwraps and opens the box. His brow creases as he fishes out a small, rectangular, plastic keychain bearing a picture made up of tiny pixels that flash on and off like an LED screen. It depicts the Seattle skyline, focusing on the Space Needle, with the word SEATTLE written boldly across the landscape, flashing on and off.
    He stares at it for a moment and then gazes at me bemused, a frown marring his lovely brow.
    “Turn it over,” I whisper, holding my breath.
    He does, and his eyes shoot to mine, wide and gray, alive with wonder and joy. His lips part in disbelief.
    The word  yes flashes on and off on the key ring.
    “Happy birthday,” I whisper.

“You’ll marry me?” he whispers, incredulous.
    I nod nervously, flushing and anxious and not quite believing his reaction—this man whom I thought I’d lost. How could he not understand how much I love him?
    “Say it,” he orders softly, his gaze intense and hot.
    “Yes, I’ll marry you.”
    He inhales sharply and moves suddenly, grabbing me and swinging me round in a most un-Fiftylike manner. He’s laughing, young and carefree, radiating joyful elation. I grab his arms to hold on, feeling his muscles ripple beneath my fingers, and his infectious laughter sweeps me up—dizzy, addled, a girl totally and utterly smitten with her beautiful man. He puts me down and kisses me. Hard. His hands are on either side of my face, his tongue insistent, persuasive . . . arousing.
    “Oh, Ana,” he breathes against my lips, and it’s an exultation that leaves me reeling. He loves me, of that I have no doubt, and I savor the taste of this delicious man, this man I thought I might never see again. His joy is evident—his eyes shining, his youthful smile—and his relief is almost palpable.
    “I thought I’d lost you,” I murmur, still dazzled and breathless from his kiss.
    “Baby, it will take more than a malfunctioning 135 to keep me away from you.”
    “135?”
    “Charlie Tango. She’s a Eurocopter 135, the safest in its class.” Some unnamed but dark emotion crosses his face briefly, distracting me. What isn’t he saying? Before I can ask him, he stills and looks down at me, frowning, and for a moment I think he’s going to tell me. I