Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 177137 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 886(@200wpm)___ 709(@250wpm)___ 590(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 177137 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 886(@200wpm)___ 709(@250wpm)___ 590(@300wpm)
I join Ana at the wheel. The wind is lashing her hair around her face; she’s exhilarated, her cheeks flushed with joy. “What do you think?” I yell, above the call of the sea and the wind.
“Christian! This is fantastic.”
“You wait until the spinney’s up.” With my chin I point to Mac, who is raising the spinnaker.
“Interesting color,” Ana shouts.
I give her a knowing wink. Yep, the color of my playroom.
The wind pumps up the spinney and The Grace charges ahead, unleashing her power and giving us a thrilling ride. Ana looks from the spinnaker to me. “Asymmetrical sail. For speed,” I call out. I’ve pushed The Grace to twenty knots, but the wind has to be in our favor for that kind of speed.
“It’s amazing!” she shouts. “How fast are we going?”
“She’s doing fifteen knots.”
“I have no idea what that means.”
“It’s about seventeen miles an hour.”
“Is that all? It feels much faster.”
Ana is radiant. Her joy is infectious. I squeeze her hands on the wheel. “You look lovely, Anastasia. It’s good to see some color in your cheeks, and not from blushing. You look like you do in José’s photos.”
She turns in my arms and kisses me. “You know how to show a girl a good time, Mr. Grey.”
“We aim to please, Miss Steele.” She turns back to face the bow and I smooth the hair away from her neck and kiss her. “I like seeing you happy,” I murmur in her ear, and we careen across Puget Sound.
WE ANCHOR IN THE cove near Hedley Spit on Bainbridge Island. Together, Mac and I lower the dinghy so he can go ashore and visit a friend in Point Monroe. “I’ll see you in about an hour, Mr. Grey.” He descends into the small boat, gives Ana a wave, and fires up the outboard motor.
I vault up to the aft deck where Ana is standing and grab her hand. I don’t need to watch Mac speed toward the lagoon; I have more pressing business to attend to.
“What are we going to do now?” Ana asks, as I take her into the saloon.
“I have plans for you, Miss Steele.” And with indecent haste, I drag her into my cabin. She’s smiling as I make quick work of her life jacket and toss it to the floor. Once it’s off, she stares at me, remaining mute, but her teeth tease her bottom lip, and I don’t know if it’s deliberate or an unconscious lure.
I want to make love to her.
On my boat.
It will be another first.
Caressing her face with the tips of my fingers, I slowly move them down to her chin, her neck, and her sternum to the first closed button on her blouse. Her eyes never waver from mine. “I want to see you.” With my thumb and forefinger, I undo the button. She stands absolutely still, her breathing accelerated.
I know she’s mine to do with as I please. My girl.
I stand back to give her some room. “Strip for me,” I whisper. Her lips part and her eyes blaze with desire. Slowly she brings her fingers up to her next fastened button, and at a snail’s pace undoes it, then moves at the same infuriating pace to the next one.
Fuck.
She’s taunting me. Minx.
When the final button is undone she pulls her shirt apart and shrugs out of it, letting it fall to the floor.
She’s wearing a white lacy bra, her nipples taut against the lace, and she’s a fine, fine sight. Her fingers run down past her navel and toy with the top button of her jeans.
Sweetheart, you need to take your shoes off.
“Stop. Sit.” I point to the edge of the bed and she complies.
I fall to my knees and undo the laces of first one and then the other sneaker, pulling them off, followed by her socks.
I pick up her foot and kiss the soft pad of her big toe, then graze it with my teeth.
“Ah,” she breathes, and the sound is music to my dick.
Let her do this her way, Grey.
Standing, I hold out my hand and pull her up from the bed. “Continue.” I give her the floor and step back to enjoy the show.
With a wanton look at me, she undoes the button and tugs down her zipper at the same slow pace. She hooks her thumbs into her waistband and slowly shimmies out of her jeans, sliding them down her legs.
She’s wearing a thong.
A thong.
Wow.
She unfastens her bra and slides the straps down her arms before dropping it on the floor.
I want to touch her.
And I clench my fists to stop myself.
She slips off her thong and lets it fall to her ankles, where she steps out of it and stands before me.
She is all woman.
And I want her.
All of her.
Her body, her heart, and her soul.