Life is good.

I've been thinking this phrase over and over for nearly a week now, and I never really tire of it. There isn't an aspect of my life that I would change at the moment. Several mergers and acquisitions have peacefully fallen into place when I'd believed I would have to make several business trips all across the world to make them work. My wife and son are home with me again. Ana and I are spending time together without awkward silences or tension. And the drama that seems to surround me wherever I go has taken a leave of absence for the time being.

Okay, there is one thing I would change about my life: I want things between Anastasia and me to be right again, for us to be the madly in love couple we were so long ago that it seems like another life entirely.

We've had two more sessions with Flynn since Ana's dinner with my mother last Thursday. During both of them, we've managed to share things we've never shared before: hopes, dreams, fears, regrets. We managed to open up to each other in ways I didn't even know were possible. We left Flynn's office feeling free and empowered. I can't speak for Anastasia, of course, but I feel more connected with her than ever. It's always been true that she knows me better than anybody else in the world; now, though, I don't have that niggling thought at the back of my mind that there's still something I'm not telling her and whatever that is would be the death of our relationship. She knows the worst of me. She's experienced it over the last year and for some reason she is still willing to stick by me.

Tomorrow night is the night I've been looking forward to for weeks. It's the night of our date. The first date of our new beginning. For the most part, I've got it all planned. I think Ana will enjoy it. Or at least I hope so. I want this to be a new chapter for us. I certainly don't expect her to forget what's happened between us—what I've done to us—but I want us to be able to eventually move on from it. I want this to make us stronger as a couple and I want to prove to her I understand what I've done, how I've betrayed her, and show that I will die before ever hurting her like this again.

In the meantime, I'm spending most of my evenings with my wife and son, despite the invisible barrier between myself and Ana. Possibly the most difficult part of this entire thing is how I'm not allowed to really touch her. Not in the way I really want, anyway. The few times we've held hands or grazed each other's skin or kissed far too briefly for my liking have proved that at least on my end of things, the spark is still there between us. I still feel that pull towards her, even after fearing my having an affair had broken something irreparable. Though we haven't discussed it, I think she feels the same. She is very understandably hesitant to actually do anything about it and until she's ready, I'll wait.

Even if she's never ready?

That's a horrifying thought. If it comes to pass that she doesn't want me in that way again, I'll have no choice but to accept it. I've spent so long being a selfish, heartless bastard, thinking she'd be mine forever that I'd almost forgotten what it was like to not have her in my life. I know now with absolute certainty that there truly is nobody else who can measure up to her. The haze of having been with Lucy had me convinced there was a possible future between us. Looking back, I want to beat myself for that thought; Lucy was a lot of things, but she wasn't Ana. To think that I could have replaced my wife with some cheap knock-off... How is it even possible that she's still willing to give me the time of day?

I shake myself from my thoughts in order to concentrate on my work. By lunchtime, this seems like an impossible feat and I give up, deciding instead to end my day early as the overwhelming need to see my wife and son washes over me. I place a call to Ros, reminding her about tomorrow's negotiations with a Japanese company we're hoping to acquire, then one to Taylor to have him pull the car around, and head out, informing Andrea on my way to the elevator that I'm gone for the day and to defer to Ros with any business related issues.

On the way home, I make a few last minute arrangements for tomorrow night. This has to be perfect. Ana deserves perfection. She deserves more than perfection, and I want to be the one to give it to her. I want to deserve to be the one to give it to her.

You've got a long way to go, Grey...

We pull up in front of the house and I dismiss Taylor for the day, intending to spend the rest of mine with my wife and son. Inside, the house is dark and quiet, and for a moment I feel panic grip at my heart. This is what it had looked and felt like the night I came home to find my family had left me. I have a brief desire to start shouting out for them, but manage to calm myself enough to realize there's a murmuring of voices in the family room. It takes all my control not to sprint across the house. My knees nearly buckle with relief when I find Ana and Teddy curled up together on the couch taking a nap as they watched cartoons. There truly is no more beautiful a sight than this and I'm smiling as I retrieve a blanket to cover them.

I'm just about to leave them to their rest when I hear Ana.

"Christian?" she whispers uncertainly.

I turn around to find her blinking her eyes open in confusion, then looking down at her chest where Teddy is resting. "Hi," I whisper back, moving to lean against the back of the couch to better speak with her.

"You're home early," she murmurs.

I smile. "Couldn't concentrate at work," I explain quietly. "Thought I'd come home and see what you two were up to."

She gives me a sleepy smile that all at once melts my heart and turns me on. "He didn't want to take a nap," she explains quietly, looking fondly at our son. "So I told him I was going to lie down and put some cartoons on, and he could skip the nap as long as he stayed in here with me. Apparently he changed his mind."

"Hmm," I murmur, feeling a pang of jealousy for my son's sleeping position. "Apparently. How was your day?"

"Good," she responds, smiling. "Kate called."

My eyebrows rise. "Oh? How'd that go?"

She winces. "She's not pleased with you," she tells me reluctantly.

"Most people aren't," I remind her wryly.

"Well, Kate's taking it to a whole new level. Forget avoiding Grace; avoid Kate."

I chuckle weakly. Great, yet another person who wants to dismantle me for hurting Ana. Not that this is news; I've known all along that when Kate discovered what happened between me and Anastasia there would be hell to pay. "I'll keep that in mind. I'm not entirely sure how I'm going to pull that one off, considering my father called me today and all but demanded we join them for dinner on Sunday."

Ana's eyes widen. "Oh," she says, clearly surprised. "Kate didn't say anything... We did arrange to take the kids out Monday for a few hours."

She watches me closely for my reaction and I know she's waiting for me to start demanding details about this proposed outing. I'm fighting against all my instincts to do just that; I have to trust that my wife can handle herself and keep our son safe. I don't need to be involved in every aspect of her life.

My own eyes widen at the realization that I actually mean that. Then I realize Ana's looking at me as though I've lost my mind. "Well, I'm sure you and Kate have quite a bit of catching up to do..."

She nods her agreement, yawning.

I smile indulgently. "Finish your nap, baby," I say softly, leaning over the couch to place a kiss on her forehead. "I've got a bit to do upstairs, but when I'm done, I'll wake you and we can have dinner."

Her eyes are already closing and I somehow manage to pull away from my family, determined not to spend too long working. Kate and Ana aren't the only ones who have catching up to do; I've got months of catching up to do with my family and I don't want to waste any more time than I already have.

I can't remember the last time I was this excited and nervous about anything. Christian's been locked in heavy negotiations all day, so the only communication I've had with him has been a few text messages he's been able to send sporadically. All I know is that he's asked me to dress warm and in semi-formal attire. I have no idea what he has up his sleeve for this date; whenever I ask he just gives me that slow, boyish, panty-busting smile of his. Though that smile hasn't worked on me in the last several months in the way he's hoped, I think my body is beginning to thaw from its seven-month hibernation and I don't think it'll be long before I'm fighting against my reactions. I can't allow myself to blindly fall under his charms this time around. I have to go in with both eyes wide open. We have to do this together.

Of course, there's one part of me that's desperate for Christian's attention and sexpertise, and would give anything in the world to just give in and fuck him for days on end.

Shaking myself from that thought, knowing I'll never get anything done with those images in my head, I continue to get ready for our date this evening. Our first date, he keeps calling it. At first, I thought he was just being silly calling it that—we'd been on dates throughout the early days of our relationship. Then I recalled the exact nature of these "dates" we had: most of them involved negotiations between the two of us about my decision to become his submissive. He spent those times trying to sell me on the lifestyle he so desperately wanted me to be part of. I was a business deal for him. One he couldn't seem to give up, yes, but a business deal nonetheless.

He changed, though, my mind reminds me. Little by little, he changed in order to keep you in his life. Meeting his mother, then the rest of his family. Being seen with him in public photos. The gliding. Georgia. More...

I'm again reminded of what drastic changes he underwent when I left him after the playroom/belt incident. I told him I loved him and he panicked, telling me I couldn't. We'd arrived at an impasse that day. Despite his begging, I'd remained strong and he'd allowed me to leave Escala. We'd both spent five miserable days apart until he convinced me to allow him to escort me to José's art show. That had thrown us right back together and it was a whirlwind.

I still don't understand why it is that he only realizes what it is he's lost when it's gone. I want to believe this time will be it. That he's finally comprehended what it means to lose me for good. More than anything, I want him to put everything he has into our marriage. In return, I have to do the same. I want my marriage. I don't want to give it up without a fight. And I think he's finally made the decision that he wants the same. I'm not doing this blindly anymore. As much as I'd like for us to just get on with it and go back to normal, I know I'll be suspicious of everything he says and does for the foreseeable. I can't allow myself to get hurt again. It will destroy me.

But if we make this work, it has to be for the right reasons. We can't just say we'll make it work because our son's happiness is at stake. I won't put my son through that.

With a sigh, I look up into the mirror, finding I need to reapply some of my makeup due to the tear streaks I didn't realize had made an appearance. I push back my thoughts enough to finish getting ready, styling my hair, and get into the little black dress I've chosen for the evening. At first I feel a little self-conscious wearing it; the fabric is thin, hugging every curve I have, the bottom hem just reaching the middle of my thighs while the neckline dips, giving off a generous view of cleavage. I'm aware this is the sort of dress I've worn all throughout our marriage for various occasions, but it's been so long since I've worn something like it.

As I'm slipping on my black heels, there's a tiny knock on my door. I smile, knowing immediately exactly what's going on. I open the door to find Teddy grinning toothily up at me. "Hi, Mommy," he says happily.

"Hi, baby boy," I respond, his mood pushing away all other feelings. "What're you doing?"

"Daddy told me to come get you," he answers. "You look pretty."

I beam at him. "Thank you," I say, reaching back into the room for a jacket and my clutch. "Lead the way."

Teddy takes my hand and pulls me through the hallway, then down the stairs. The butterflies are back as we reach the foyer to find Christian leaning against the wall, hands in pockets, talking quietly with Taylor. I don't know when he changed out of his normal work attire and apparently showered, judging by his still damp hair, but instead of the usual business suit he wears, he's wearing freshly pressed suit pants, jacket, black dress shirt, and... I swear my heart stops. The Tie. I don't know how long it's been since I've seen That Tie, but it feels like a lifetime. He wore it often during the early days of our marriage. One day I happened to see it hanging in the back of his closet and realized he hadn't worn it for months. Like everything else I noticed during the dark ages of our marriage, I kept the thought to myself.

Taylor sees us first and I think I see traces of a smile on his face. It's only a second before Christian straightens up and turns to look at me. I swear I see and hear the sharp intake of breath he takes as his eyes glaze over. I manage a smile as I step off the last stair and approach him. Our eyes are locked and a slow smile starts to grow on his lips.

"Hi," I say quietly, inhaling the familiar, intoxicating scent of body wash and Christian.

"Hi yourself," he says huskily, leaning in to press his lips against my cheek. He lingers a little longer than necessary and when he pulls away, I swear he groans. Or maybe that was me. I can't be sure. "You look..." He shakes his head slightly, pulling away from me as he looks me up and down. "I don't think astonishing or breathtaking quite cover it, but I think my brain's shut down, leaving me unable to come up with an appropriate word."

I giggle at him, which only widens his smile. "Thank you," I say shyly, blushing.

"Shall we?" he asks, holding his hand out for me. I nod.

We say goodnight to our son, telling him to behave for Gail, and we'll see him in the morning. Taylor opens the door for us to leave the house and we head down the steps towards the SUV. Christian opens the back door for me, still holding my hand as I slide in, and he joins me a second later, still looking at me with that smile. With Taylor in the driver's seat, we're off to wherever it is we're going. Christian and I talk about nothing in particular and I see he's as excited and nervous about the evening as I am. For some reason, that helps relax me.

I'm trying to gain my bearings and guess what we're about to do, but Christian keeps distracting me with conversation—I think he's doing it on purpose. We pull into what seems to be an airfield and I feel my excitement growing as I realize our first destination.

"Charlie Tango?" I look at Christian to find him grinning at my reaction.

"Charlie Tango," he confirms quietly, lifting my hand to his lips to place a kiss on my knuckles. "Come."

We exit the car, Christian and Taylor exchange a few words, and then we're on our way to the helicopter. Christian has his arm around my shoulders as we bend down on our approach. He pulls open the door again, helping me into my seat, and buckling my harness for me.

"I do love this harness," he tells me with a smirk as he adjusts the straps. I giggle and grin at his words. "But I think I love that sound more."

I don't get the chance to respond as he climbs in and crosses to the pilot's seat. He immediately buckles his own harness then starts with the pre-flight checks. While he's doing that, I revel in his first surprise. We haven't been in Charlie Tango together in probably a year and a half. There was a time when I refused to go anywhere near Christian's beloved helicopter, after he nearly died flying it, but he somehow managed to set my concerns to rest, promising me he would never allow me anywhere near it if he didn't believe it safe.

Before I know it, we're up in the air, heading south. Christian gestures for me to put on the headphones so we can talk. For a while, we're silent, intent on taking in the setting sun around Seattle. I smile at the sight and the memories it brings with it.

"What are you thinking about?" Christian's disembodied voice is in my head.

I glance over at him, finding him intently watching the open sky ahead of us, though his eyes dart over to me every few seconds or so. "The first time you brought me up in Charlie Tango," I answer honestly.

His smile grows slowly and he nods in recollection. "That was a great night," he tells me quietly.

"One of the best nights of my life," I hear myself saying.

He looks over at me, startled. I see him swallow hard. "Mine, too," he says simply.

We fly in silence for quite a while before I realize we've begun our descent. Christian is communicating with air traffic control and I know immediately where we are and what we're doing here.

Well, he did say this is a new beginning... I reason with myself. Touching down, I remove the headphones, waiting for Christian to turn off the helicopter. After unbuckling me from my harness, his arm is around me again as we head for the door at the top of this building where the helipad is located.

Out on the street, I expect to see another SUV waiting for us, but Christian clearly has something else planned. "It's just us," he explains quietly as we begin walking. "I didn't think it would benefit a first date if we're being chaperoned. I've got a team tending to Charlie Tango, but the security detail is still in Seattle."

I nod thoughtfully. Taylor and the others seemed to come as a package deal when it came to being with Christian. The only time they didn't accompany us somewhere was when we were remaining in the Seattle area, but even then I knew they were somewhere nearby in case something happened and we needed help. This thought makes me feel open and slightly vulnerable; the threats against Christian and our family are very clear, especially given recent events with Lucy. I feel myself glancing all around us, wondering if there was an unknown threat waiting for us in the shadows of an alley. Whether Christian notices or just wants me nearer, I don't know as he pulls me closer.

I'm not surprised to find us approaching the Heathman Hotel in Portland, but it does make me wonder about his intentions. The first time I was brought here, I ended up spending the night with him. Granted, I was unconscious the entire night. I look up at him, unconsciously biting my lower lip. He gives me a soft smile before reaching up with his free hand to release the grip my teeth have on my flesh. "We're here for dinner, Ana," he assures me softly. "That's it."

For some reason, part of me is disappointed by his words, especially when we enter the hotel and pass the elevator. Our elevator. I know the same thoughts are going through Christian's mind; he smirks at me. "I do love elevators, Mrs. Grey," he tells me, his eyes dancing in amusement and something else I can't quite put a finger on.

Inside the restaurant, we're led, predictably, to a private dining room with one table made up simply. One candle glows in the center of the white tablecloth. Christian pulls my chair out for me after the host takes my jacket and clutch, then moves around the table to sit across from me. I notice immediately there aren't any menus. "Am I to assume you've planned out our dinner already?"

He grins at me in response as a waiter pours us glasses of wine and informs us our first course will arrive shortly. While we wait, sipping at our wine, the conversation flows easily. We're laughing, teasing, flirting. There's no sign of the usual in-control Christian. Instead, he's replaced by his playful, happy alter ego.

When the oysters arrive, I raise an eyebrow at my husband, who grins again. He moves his chair around the table to sit closer to me so we can feed each other the appetizer. He cracks a joke as I swallow one, causing me to choke slightly and dribble juice down my chin. Rather than letting me have the chance to be embarrassed, he reaches over to gently wipe away the juice with a finger. I gasp softly when he immediately places the finger in his mouth, his eyes never leaving mine.

Our main course of black cod, asparagus, and crushed potatoes with hollandaise sauce arrives. Unlike the very first time we had this meal, I'm actually hungry; my appetite hasn't been chased away by discussions of punishments and obedience and sexual acts I've never heard of, let alone participated in. Christian is watching me closely as though he's reading my thoughts, remembering that night with what seems to be regret on his face.

"The first time we were here," he begins slowly before we start our dinner, "I wanted nothing more than to make you my submissive, to mold you into exactly what I needed you to be. I didn't understand the hold you had over me at the time, and it frustrated me to no end that I was making such an effort to get you when you clearly weren't submissive material. All I knew at the time was that I had to have you. I didn't know any other way to get you. There were moments when I saw you as a piece of property that I needed to own. The fact that you didn't turn tail and run the moment you found out what I wanted from you is something I will never forget and I cannot begin to apologize for thinking of you in that way. You gave me more than I ever thought possible and over the years; I've treated you atrociously. I promised to keep you safe and make you happy no matter the cost; I failed you, Anastasia. I can't change what I did to you; all I can do is swear that I will never do that to you again. I will never make you feel like that again. I will never let you go. And I will never stop loving you."

I'm speechless. After the laughter and happiness of the evening, he's taken us back to the reality of our situation. I've never seen him look so sincere and contrite, and I know it's no use being suspicious of his words; I believe them immediately.

Taking a deep breath, he holds up his wine glass to toast. "To new beginnings," he whispers, staring into my eyes. We clink our glasses, drinking deeply, then start in on our meals.

As we eat, I begin to forget everything that's happened over the last year. It's hard not to when I look at my husband's happy, carefree, eager face. I haven't seen that expression in so long and I think I'll do anything to make it last. This is what I've wanted for years, to have him looking at me like I am his world again. Even when the conversation fades, I still feel him watching me with a smile on his face. Part of me wants to know what he's thinking; part of me doesn't.

After dinner, we're back out on the street. Christian's arm is wrapped around my shoulders protectively against the cold wind and I wonder what he's got planned next.

"Is there anything you'd like to do?" he asks as we stop at a crosswalk. His chin is resting on the top of my head while my arms are around his waist, my cheek resting against his chest.

I sigh contentedly. Yes, I think, this. For the rest of our lives. Of course I don't say this aloud, mostly because I still don't know whether we'll be able to solve the problems between us. I glance across the street and smile. "Actually, yes," I tell him, looking up. He raises his eyebrows in question. "I think we should see a movie."

"A movie?" he asks in amusement, following my line of sight. "Baby, you do realize I can arrange for us to see any movie in the world without us resorting to cramped seating, stale popcorn, and sticky floors, right?"

I nod. "Yes, I do realize that," I confirm, grinning. "But the cramped seating, stale popcorn, and sticky floors are things normal people have to contend with on normal first dates."

He snorts a laugh, looking over my shoulder at the movie theater across the street. With a sigh, he nods. "You really want to see a movie tonight?" I nod eagerly; he grins slightly. "Okay, then." He grabs my hand and we make our way towards the box office. "Any idea what you want to see?"

His eyes are narrowed on the flashing board that lists the different movies and showtimes. There are a few family movies, some action, a horror movie, a few romances. We end up agreeing to see a new comedy movie that was just released last weekend—it is the only one Christian didn't curl his lip to when I suggested it. He buys our tickets and we enter, fully aware that our fancy attire doesn't exactly fit in with the other moviegoers, but neither of us is concerned as we get in line for the snack bar. Christian orders us a large drink, large popcorn, and some candy he saw me eyeing longingly, not even flinching at the outrageous prices the way a normal person would.

We settle near the back row of the theater, our drink in the holder between us, our popcorn on Christian's knee. Predictably, as the movie previews start, Christian arm goes around my shoulders. "So you have better access to the popcorn," he claims, smirking. I roll my eyes in the dark, but smile back. As the lights dim further, I can't think of a better way to spend an evening.

I cannot believe I'm in a movie theater. When I asked Ana what she might like to do after dinner, I thought she might suggest a walk around the city or maybe a cup of coffee or something. Definitely not this. I honestly can't remember the last time I was actually at a movie theater, though I think it might have been when I was on winter break at some point while I was at Harvard and Mia dragged both Elliot and me out.

The looks we got when we entered the theater were amusing. I can't imagine most people getting this dressed up to see a movie. We look as though we should be walking down a red carpet at a movie premiere, surrounded by movie stars, not by teenagers who don't know the meaning of quiet during a movie and couples who don't look like they could afford anything fancier. But the light in Ana's eyes when she suggested our next activity—whether it was because she really wanted to do this or she was making fun of me, I'm still not sure—overrode every instinct I had to deny her. I honestly didn't care at the moment what her motivation was for wanting to see a movie; I'm the one who gets to reap the rewards. I barely pay attention to what's on the screen, instead keeping my gaze on my wife's face as she focuses. I see every smile, eye crinkle, and laugh as they happen. This is the first time I've seen her this carefree and relaxed in years.

Like she was in José's photos...

She's beautiful. More than beautiful. I have to get her back...

About halfway through the movie, Ana's laughing hysterically and I'm grinning like an idiot watching her. She turns towards me, reaching for the soda sitting between us, and catches me staring at her. Her eyes widen and she begins to blush. I know she knows what I've been up to throughout this movie. I shrug in mock-apology and she smiles at me briefly before turning back to the movie, and I know I'm not in trouble. After that, she pays less and less attention to what's on the screen as she darts her eyes between it and me.

Tempted as I am to suggest we sneak out early, I manage to stick out the entire movie, and finally we're leaving. I nearly jump out of my skin when I feel her arm intertwining with mine. Looking down at her, she's looking up at me through her hair with big eyes. I beam at her, pulling her closer.

"I suppose we're going home now?" she asks quietly as we start back towards the Heathman.

I glance at my watch. "We've still got an hour and a half until our takeoff time. We could either head back to the helipad or get a coffee or something..."

She smiles at me and I'm pretty sure my heart just stopped. "Coffee's good," she muses. "Though I'm more of a tea fan myself."

My brow furrows for a moment. I've known this for years; why does she see the need to remind me? We walk a block or so before I register exactly where we are: just across the street is the Portland Coffee House and my stomach does a flip as I recall the last time she and I were here. The day of the photo shoot for the WSU student newspaper. That was a good day. Twenty minutes sitting in a chair with nothing more to do than stare the beautiful, fascinating woman that was Anastasia Steele. I grin as we cross the street to enter the coffee house, looking down at Ana and letting go of her hand. "Why don't you choose a table while I get the drinks? What would you like?" I'm grinning like an idiot, rather surprised that I've recalled the conversation so quickly and easily.

She smiles brightly back at me. "English Breakfast tea, bag out," she replies, barely suppressing her amusement as she bites her lip.

"No coffee?" I ask, reaching out to pull her lip from her teeth.

"I'm not keen on coffee," she says immediately, just as she had that day.

I'm still grinning as we separate, Ana looking for a table, me getting in line for our beverages. Just like that day all those years ago, I have no idea what the hell she's doing with me. I'm not deserving of someone as wonderful as she and god knows she could find happiness with somebody better, somebody who wouldn't break her heart over and over again. At the same time, just like that day, I need her in my life. I didn't understand just how incredibly special she was that day or how drastically she could change my outlook on life. She beguiled me—she still does. She challenged me, frustrated me, and confused me. None of that has changed.

It's five minutes before I reach the front of the line and place my order. I turn around with the tray carrying our beverages and, of course, my blueberry muffin, and smirk to find Ana is sitting at the exact table we'd sat at that day, lost in her thoughts. There's only one way to handle this...

"Penny for your thoughts?" I set the tray on the table and take my seat. She startles and looks at me in surprise. I respond by passing her the teacup, pot of water, and saucer with teabag.

"Not worth it," she responds wryly.

My brow furrowed. Not exactly how I remember the conversation going... "Try me."

I watch as she dunks the teabag in the water for all of two-point-five seconds before taking it out and discarding it on the saucer. She sighs, smiling slightly. "I was just thinking that this has been a wonderful night," she says. "I knew you would come up with something special and you didn't let me down."

Grinning, I take a sip of my latte. "Does this mean I'll have to come up with something better for our second date?" I ask amusedly.

She raises her eyebrow. "Do you think you can?" she counters.

I snort a laugh. "I think I can arrange something," I tell her mysteriously, having already decided what I would like our next date to be.

We smile at each other as we drink our beverages. Ana leans over the table, giving me a very lovely view of her breasts, and takes a chunk of my muffin. I smirk at her as she leans back and it's a moment before she realizes it's not her pastry theft I'm smirking about. She blushes. Everywhere. I'm adjusting my pants again as she quickly searches for a topic to distract us.

Before I know it, we're headed back towards Charlie Tango, hand-in-hand. I've taken off my jacket to place around her shoulders when she started shivering through the thin material of her own. As we walk at a slower than necessary pace, it occurs to me that I'm not the only one reluctant to see our evening end.

Our flight back to Seattle is subdued and mostly silent with Ana having her head turned away from me as she looks out over the city. As soon as we land and I've cut the engine of the helicopter, I jump out the door, quickly walking around to Ana's to help her out. I smile a little as she stumbles into me slightly when her feet touch the ground. I love having her this close to me so I can see every emotion play out in her eyes. I don't want to let this go yet. I open my mouth to speak, uncertain about what I'm going to say, but it doesn't matter; the roof door opens, revealing Taylor, and the moment's broken.

Perfect timing, asshole...

By the time we get home, the invisible wall has started rebuilding itself between us. Ana doesn't meet my gaze until we're standing outside her bedroom door, both of us reluctant to say good night.

"I really had a wonderful evening, Christian," she says quietly, looking up at me with her big blue eyes. "Thank you."

I smile. "You're welcome," I respond. "I'm just happy you agreed to let me take you out at all."

She nods a little, her brow furrowing and revealing the little V between her eyebrows. I know what I want to do right now; I just don't know if she wants me to do it. Of course, the longer we stand here in the middle of the hallway alone, the moment is becoming more and more awkward, so I take a deep breath and bend down just enough to place my lips over hers, not quite touching. We both have our eyes wide open, looking at each other as we attempt to read the other's thoughts. Almost in slow motion, I see Ana's hand come up out of the corner of my eye, and for a moment I fear she might push me away; instead, she tentatively slides her fingers into my hair and closes what little remaining distance there is between us. I groan against her lips, she gasps, and I take the opportunity to slip inside her mouth. Both her hands are in my hair now and at some point I've backed her up against the bedroom door, pressing into her as we kiss like we've never done it before and will never get the chance again. One of my hands cups her face, keeping her in position while my other slides down her body, eventually settling on her bottom.

I don't recall ever kissing her quite like this: like she is my life force and I need to breathe in all I can of her. It's a desperate kiss and I know if one of us doesn't stop soon, it's going to lead to something more. Not that I'd complain, of course. I just wouldn't want her to do something in the heat of the moment, then wake up tomorrow thinking she'd made a mistake and blaming me for not putting a stop to things sooner.

Apparently this thought crosses Ana's mind at the same time: she manages to pull away from me, breathing heavily and looking flushed. I'm sure I'm not fairing any better right now. Her eyes are wide, filled with sorrow and desire and something else I can't quite work out.

"Um," she gasps, looking anywhere but directly at me. "I should probably get some sleep."

I nod jerkily, running my hands through my hair in a half-assed attempt to get myself back into control. "Of course," I say, panting slightly. "I'll see you in the morning."

With that, she's slipping into the bedroom and closing the door behind her. I'm left alone in the hallway with a full erection, trying to get a grip on myself.

Wouldn't it be better if Anastasia were to get a grip on you? my mind suggests, only making things worse. Biting my lips against a groan, I head down the hall to my room and waste no time shedding my clothes so I can get into the coldest shower I've ever experienced.

A little later, I'm feeling slightly more in control as I climb into bed and stare at the ceiling, one arm curled behind my head. I wonder if Ana's fallen asleep yet of if she's doing the same thing I am and whether I'll ever get the chance to lie next to her, holding her, whispering to her how much she means to me and how fucking lucky I am to have her in my life. I want to tell her how utterly undeserving I am that's she's even considering giving me yet another chance and that if she does, I won't throw this one away like I have the last several chances.

I fall into a restless sleep, dreaming about Anastasia just being out of reach of my touch. Every time I manage to just graze her fingertips, she's pulled farther and farther away from me, leaving me desperate to catch up to her.

I can't let that happen.