After dropping Teddy off with Kate and Elliot for the weekend, Ana and I are finally on our way to a weekend alone. Neither of us has discussed yesterday's repeated phone calls from Elena, or her latest threats intended to push us apart. I've tripled my efforts to ensure both she and Lucy are ruined, and by the time I left GEH this afternoon, everything was in place to execute Monday morning. I'm now free to enjoy what is truly a rare treat: not only will this weekend be completely free of work-related distractions and stresses, but it is a weekend that truly belongs to me and Anastasia. Once Taylor's security checks finish and Mac gives me a rundown about the state of the boat, it will only be the two of us. To do as we please.
I'm not delusional. I know this weekend will not be all fun and games. As much as I would love to just take her to bed and love her until I can't anymore, I can't rush this. The few times we've had a moment or two alone have been wonderful and it's times like those that I truly believe she's mine again, that she wants to be mine again, in all ways. That's not enough this time, though. It's not enough that she's mine. I need to be hers. I need her to want me to be hers, in all ways. A few heated moments aren't enough to achieve that. I need to gain her trust again. I want to gain her trust. I feel as though I've been as honest as I can be with her.
She knows the details of my affair with Lucy, down to my feelings at the time for both her and Lucy. She's still here. She knows I considered leaving her for Lucy. She's still here. She continues to be harassed by my past. And yet, she's still here. Despite knowing she loves me, I still can't think of a single thing in my life that I've done to deserve her, but I will spend every day of the rest of my life proving I'm worthy of everything she's ever given of me, even if I don't always fully believe I am.
At long last, we've reached the dock. Ana and I grin at each other as we get out of the car, not letting go of each other's hands as we approach the boat. Taylor and Sawyer board ahead of us and go about their security sweeps. I can see Ana beginning to frown as she watches them move around, so I pull her into my arms, wrapping mine around her shoulders, while her arms go around my waist. This is right. This is where I belong. Judging by the little sigh of contentment she emits, she feels the same.
From the very beginning I knew this woman affected me more than any other. She was a breath of fresh air. A light at the end of a tunnel of pure darkness. She saw in me something that no one else ever had, something I hadn't even known I possessed. I hadn't believed in love until I met her. And like the fucking moron I am, I threw it away like it meant nothing to me. I know nobody will believe me—nobody including Ana—but I truly never stopped loving her. The longer I go on without the influence of Lucy and Elena, the more I realize how delusional I was about my feelings for Lucy. I cared about her. I thought I had fallen in love with her. But when it came down to it, the only one I wanted was Ana.
The night she confronted me about the tape... I felt my entire sense of being shred into tiny pieces. I knew that was it, that I'd actually done something to make her hate me and want to leave me. I didn't care about anything after that aside from somehow trying to fix the things that I so selfishly destroyed. It occurred to me much later that if I had truly been in love with Lucy and wanted to further whatever future we might have together, I could have just gone to her that night and let Ana live her own life. But the thought of seeing Lucy after realizing exactly the mess I'd made was abhorrent. I rejected all her calls and attempts to contact me.
I suppose it doesn't matter what I do or say. Somebody is always going to believe the worst of me no matter how hard I try. They will always believe I don't deserve Anastasia—which has always been and will always be true—and that my motives for trying to win back her heart are down to my selfishness and the need to control my life. That's partly true, I suppose. I am selfish for not letting her live her life without dumping all my shit on her shoulders every time we turn around. But she's here in my arms by her own choice. If at any point she told me she wanted nothing to do with me or our marriage anymore, I would have let her go. Reluctantly. Grudgingly. And I never would have been the same, but I would have done it.
Even now, after everything that's happened, if she truly believes she would be happier without me, I will step back from her.
I've seen marriages fall apart from afar. Husbands cheating on their wives. I've heard what people think about the few wives who do decide to repair the damage done—some see them as weak for putting themselves right back in that position again. But Ana is far from weak. She always has been. She could easily live her life without me in it and be just fine. Instead she's chosen to be with me. I suppose the difference between our situation and some of the others is that there is something left here to be salvaged. She's going to continue to be wary of me, I know that, and I can't blame her for it. I just hope she doesn't regret her decision to forgive me.
"What are you thinking?"
I'm pulled from my thoughts and look down into my wife's big, beautiful blue eyes. "Just that I want this weekend to be perfect for you and everything you want it to be," I tell her not untruthfully. I don't need to burden her or our weekend with my doubts.
She raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing on her lips. "And what is it you think I want this weekend to be?" she asks me primly.
I only smirk as Taylor and Sawyer depart the boat and approach us.
"All set, sir," Taylor informs us. "We'll be nearby until sunup, and return to pick you up on Sunday evening."
"Excellent," I say briskly, nodding to the two men. "Have a good weekend."
Without waiting for their response, I take Ana by the hand and lead her onto the boat. The moment I feel the familiar sensation of gentle rocking on the water, an enormous weight has been lifted off my shoulders. Out here on the sea, I'm free. It doesn't even matter that we're still docked and will be until morning. This is my haven, my safe place, and that's only made better knowing Ana is with me.
"Why are they staying until sunup?"
Her question brings me back to reality. I sigh. "Just in case," I say quietly, watching her expression closely. I'm hoping she understands my underlying meaning without needing further elaboration; that sort of discussion would only spoil our time together. She sucks in a sharp breath, but nods. I nod back and smile tightly. "Come. It's almost time for sunset and I thought we could have dinner while we watched..."
Despite the realization that security would be keeping an eye on us until we set sail in the morning, "just in case", I am determined to keep things light this evening. It's clear Christian has been planning this for some time, especially when I see a little table set for two, a candle in the middle separating plates covered with silver domed lids. Somewhere, music is playing softly and as Christian promised, we have a perfect view of the sun setting over the horizon.
Reluctantly letting go of my hand, Christian crosses to the table where a bottle of wine has been chilling in a bucket of ice. With a questioning raised eyebrow, he asks if I'd like a glass and I nod, suddenly feeling self-conscious for some reason. Perhaps it's due to the way his eyes keep darting towards me as he pours our wine glasses like he can't get enough of me. I love that look. I've missed that look. I haven't seen that look in nearly a year. It's different than the one he wears when he wants me; that one is filled with lust while this is pure, unadulterated love.
I wait for a snarky comment from my subconscious, but as luck would have it, she's been tied up and gagged for the weekend. It will be a nice reprieve.
He's relaxed. That too is a nice reprieve; after everything that's happened, I briefly doubted that he'd be able to divert his mind long enough to actually enjoy our time away. We need this time to be ourselves, as much as that's possible after the last year.
The moment I stepped onto the boat, I recalled the first time he ever brought me here. Of course that line of thought leads to the things we did below deck and as Christian turns towards me to bring me my wine glass, I feel myself flush under his darkening gaze.
"Hungry, Mrs. Grey?"
Three words. How is it that it only takes him three fucking words that to anybody else would seem utterly innocuous, but leaves me feeling weak-kneed? I think it's something to do with the double entendre he tends to insert into aforementioned utterly innocuous words. He could mean food or he could mean something that has absolutely nothing to do with food and everything to do with the things we did the first time we were here together... Part of me wants to not let him see how much he affects me, at least not yet, while another part wants to tell him to forget about dinner and just drag him below deck myself. Somehow, I manage the former.
"I suppose I could eat," I say mildly, taking the glass he offers.
His expression falters slightly at my tone and I'm momentarily proud that I can make him feel uncertain when he's normally so confident. He clears his throat and turns away enough to pull out a chair for me. I smile at him and sit down, waiting for him to walk around to sit across from me. His confidence has returned with a sip of his wine and he gestures for me to lift the lid off my plate. Over our simple dinner, we laugh and talk like it truly is our third date, and I can see all residual tension leaving both of us. When we finish our dinner, I look over the scattered dishes uncertainly, wondering if we should clean up. Christian sees me eyeing the mess. "Don't worry about it," he tells me quietly. "We'll deal with it tomorrow."
I nod. The sun has set and the sky is very nearly black with white stars dotting here and there. Despite still being tethered to the dock and knowing Taylor and Sawyer were keeping an eye on things for us, we are completely alone. Even Christian couldn't have arranged a more romantic setting. He stands from his seat, crossing over to me, and holds out his hands. "Would you like to dance, Anastasia?" he asks softly, his eyes just barely hiding his desire.
I smile, placing my hand in his and allow him to pull me up. With his free hand, he reaches into his pocket and the music rises in volume. Once that's taken care of, he places that arm around my waist, pulling me flush against his body, and we begin to move around the boat slowly and effortlessly as though we were dancing on air. Our eyes never leave each other's gaze and we don't speak; we don't need to. This is what matters tonight: two people who had been so close to losing what they had built together over the years due to miscommunication, deceit, selfishness, and very bad choices trying to move on. It occurs to me that most women might have made the decision to cut all ties from the man who had put them through such pain, that they couldn't possibly see any chance to rebuild. But the fact that I still love Christian, and he still loves me, is enough for me to want to try. I don't feel weak for returning to my husband, I don't feel that I'm just damaging myself even further, and I really don't feel the need to explain my reasons to anyone, least of all those who clearly don't understand just how deeply love can run.
It doesn't matter that I don't know what the future will hold for us. What matters is that I'm in his arms again and I feel whole when I'm here. End of story.
I have no idea how long we spend dancing, no idea how many songs have changed since we began, but when I feel myself returning to reality, I notice we're not really moving anymore. We're just standing in place, swaying slightly. My head is nestled between his shoulder and neck, and I can feel his heart beating a steady pace in his chest. He's abandoned the dancing position of earlier and has his arms around my shoulders, his cheek resting on the top of my head.
"Has our third date lived up to expectations?" I hear him ask, feeling the words grumbling him his chest.
I smile against his neck. "So far, so good," I mutter back. I feel him chuckle. "But I have the feeling you've got much more planned."
"Hmm," he murmurs, apparently not finding it necessary to expand. "Actually, there is something I want to talk to you about..." I stiffen in his arms and feel my color draining from my body. I have no idea why his words spark this reaction in me, but they have, and I realize I've been waiting for something negative to happen. When I meet his gaze, though, the wariness leaves me at the sight of his soft, reassuring smile and sparkling eyes. "Nothing to worry about. I just wanted to run an idea past you."
Still uncertain, I nod as he takes my hand and leads me to the edge of the boat. When he turns to me again, his nervousness is clear and he swallows hard before his eyes swing up to meet mine. "Ana, I know I've made a mess of things," he says quietly, taking both my hands in his. "And I know that is an incredible understatement. But I wanted to do something that might show you what it means that you've decided to give me yet another chance that I probably don't actually deserve." I open my mouth to comment, but the pleading expression on his face silences me. He waits for me to nod that I won't interrupt to go on. "I've been wracking my brain for weeks and I think I finally came up with something."
"What?" I ask cautiously, having absolutely no idea where he could be going with this. I thought signing the documents that put GEH in my hands was his big act of proving something to me. Apparently not.
"Giving you GEH was part of it," he says, reading my thoughts. "But I wanted something more... meaningful and, I don't know... symbolic. So here it is..." I'm holding my breath as he slowly drops down to one knee, reaching into his pocket. My heart has stopped completely when he opens a small black box to reveal what looks to be an engagement ring. I truly don't think I could be any more confused than I am currently. "I want to marry you, Anastasia. Again. I want to rewrite our history so I can show you exactly what you mean to me. I want us to have a fresh start and I want to prove that I'm worthy of you and your love, even if it takes the rest of my life."
My brain is numb as I look between the ring and my kneeling husband. I say the first thing that comes to my mind: "Christian," my voice is faint, "we're already married."
He just grins, having apparently expected that response from me. "I know," he says softly.
"So you want to... what, renew our vows?"
His head shakes, his eyes not leaving mine. "No, Ana. I don't want to renew our vows. I didn't so much break them as I decimated them. I want to make new vows to you and unlike the last ones, I will never break them. I love you, Ana, and I swear to you, my heart, my soul, and my entire being belong to you. I will never take them from you again. So what do you say, Ana? Will you marry me again?"
Never in a million years did I ever consider this a possibility. His face is excited and nervous and earnest all at once and I can't help the incredulous smile or laugh that bubbles through my chest. I laughed with abandon, unable to control the reaction. When I am finally able to see straight again, I notice Christian has dropped my hands and was now sitting back on both his heels looking rejected and hurt and confused and humiliated. I stop laughing immediately. "Oh god," I muttered, dropping to my knees in front of him. "Christian, no... I'm so sorry."
"All you had to was say no," he said shakily, staring at the floor. "I just thought..." He trails off, shaking his head slightly, glances in disdain at the ring that had fallen from his hand, and starts to stand.
I grasp his hand wildly to stop him, pulling him back into position and turning his head so he's forced to look at me. I've hurt him in a way only I could. He truly believes I'm telling him no, when that couldn't be any further from the truth. "Christian, I'm sorry. I'm not telling you no! I was just... surprised. Of everything I thought might happen this weekend, I didn't even consider this a possibility." I reach out blindly, fumbling for the ring box to press back into his hand. His brow furrows in confusion. "Christian, nothing would make me happier than remarrying you, but you have to know it's not necessary. You and I have nothing to prove to the world; we're together and that's what matters."
He shakes his head. "I don't give a shit about the world, Ana," he tells me in a low voice. "And I don't want to prove anything to anyone except you. It doesn't have to be a big thing—you, me, a witness or two... I want to do this for you. I owe you this much."
I take a deep breath. "I don't want you to feel like you owe me anything, but if it means that much to you..." I watch as his face switches to unbelievable hope. "Yes, Christian, I will remarry you."
The look on his face is one I haven't seen since the last time I told him I would marry him. All at once, he's relieved, ecstatic, and awestruck. With a sound that is somewhere between a gasping sob and a laugh, he reaches out and pulls me towards him, burying his face in my neck, his breathing uneven. I return his embrace, wanting him as close to me as possible for as long as possible. Before I realize what's happening, I'm in his lap as his hot mouth explores my neck, my shoulders... anywhere he can find the slightest bit of exposed skin. He's hardening against me and my brain loses all sense of logic. I want him. Probably more than I've ever wanted him before. As though reading my thoughts, he manages to stand up with me still in his arms. Kissing me ravenously, I realize we're moving and I have a vague notion of where we're headed.
In my next moment of sudden, brief clarity, I realize I'm pressed against a wall with Christian moving against me as though his life will end if we stop. Hell, I don't think I could stop right now if I wanted. All the recent moments between us have built up the tension and we're finally back to the bare essentials of what made us fall in love from the very beginning.
To my intense surprise, Christian pulls away from me with a tortured groan, resting his forehead against mine. "Ana, tell me what to do," he breathes, staring into my eyes.
I'm surprised by his request. Never before have I had to tell him where I wanted something like this to lead. It occurs to me just how uncertain the last several months have made him. On the outside, he seems to be the same old Christian most times, if not a bit more controlled while on the inside he is still my lost boy who has no clue how to proceed. Reason returns to me suddenly. I remove my legs from around his waist and he releases me, a pained expression on his face. I try to smile at him to communicate my thoughts, but my mind can truly only concentrate on one thing. Still looking into his eyes, I reach into his pocket, feeling around for the item I have a vague recollection of him shoving in there before we came below deck. He hisses through his teeth as my hand brushes against his erection. With his dark eyes wide with lust trained on me, I pull my hand back out, showing him the ring he'd presented me before. It takes him a moment to catch on, but with shaking fingers, he takes it from me, then takes my left hand in his, and still watching my every expression, slides the ring onto the appropriate finger with his right.
"Now what?" he whispers, bringing my hand to his lips to kiss my knuckles.
"Now you finish what you started, Mr. Grey," I tell him teasingly before letting my expression turn serious. "Now I want you to make love to me."
His eyes slide closed and his face takes on a blissful expression as though he'd just been handed the greatest treasure in the world. "I never thought I would hear you say those words to me again," he says wistfully. "And I have never been so pleased to be wrong."
I smile at him, taking his hand in mine, and lead the way towards the bedroom.
I have never been so terrified in my life. Not from the thought of making love to my wife, but the thought that this is all some incredibly fantastical dream and that at any moment, I'm going to wake up in the guest bedroom. Alone. I can hardly believe the turns the evening has taken. Seeing Ana laugh at my proposal had been the worst feeling in the world and I believed that was it for us. But it wasn't. She wants me despite everything and she will be mine again and I will be hers again.
Still, I'm a little uncertain as we enter the bedroom. I had hoped, fantasized, that we would get here sometime soon, but I'd remained unconvinced that she could see past the hurt I've caused her in order to be here with me. She seems confident about this decision as we stop just short of the bed and she turns to me, looking breathtakingly shy. Her face is flushed, her blue eyes darkened, her lips swollen from kissing me. She's never looked more appealing or sexy. We stare at one another, each waiting for the other to make the next move. I need her to initiate this. I don't want her to follow my lead because she wants to please me.
I close my eyes as she steps close to me and kisses me with such sweetness that my heart nearly melts. Her fingers slide into my hair to hold me in place and my shaking hands grasp her hips, holding her firm. It's only a moment before her lips move to kiss my jawline, my ear, my neck, and I barely register her fingers sliding slowly down my neck, my chest, reaching the hem of my shirt. My breathing hitches as I feel her touch the bare skin of my stomach, and every inch of my body is being set aflame as she starts to push my shirt up. Resignedly, I break our gaze long enough to pull it over my head and drop it somewhere on the floor. She steps back then, takes a deep breath, and I watch raptly and hungrily as she removes her own shirt, dropping it somewhere behind her. I am under her spell as I take in her perfect, beautiful skin, the outline of her body... Her gorgeous breasts that are still restrained by her bra. She's looking at me in the same way and somehow, my desire for her grows.
Unable to remain standing much longer, I sit down on the foot of the bed, drinking her in. I hold out my hand to her and she shyly takes it, allowing me to pull her to stand directly in front of me, between my legs. Without hesitation, I kiss every exposed inch of her belly and chest, trailing feather light kisses from one hip to the other and back, teasing the outline of her belly button with my tongue. How is it possible that someone could taste so incredible? I don't know, but I will never take these moments for granted again. Sitting up straighter, I look up at her, her hooded gaze locked on me. I groan at the sight of her.
"What now?" I whisper, recalling my decision to let her take the lead.
Her brow furrows slightly in confusion, but it quickly disappears as she takes my hands that are rested against her jean-clad hips and slides them up her amazingly soft skin until I'm cupping her breasts through the lacy fabric covering them. She bites her lip as I squeeze and tease her nipples, her breaths coming rapidly as she emits little whimpers every so often. I love that I can still affect her like this. I reach behind her to undo the clasp on her bra, slowly revealing its hidden treasures. Her nipples harden in reaction to either the chilly air in the room or arousal. It doesn't matter which. I bend her until my lips capture one of her nipples while my fingers lazily tease the other. Her fingers are in my hair, pulling me closer. We continue on like this for a few minutes before her wobbly legs give out and she falls to her knees in front of me. My eyes widen as she places a hand on my chest, pushing me backwards onto the bed, before deftly undoing my belt followed quickly by my pants. Her eyes are locked on mine as she pulls down my jeans, her hand grazing my erection, which is incredibly relieved to be freed from its confines. I gasp, biting my lip, and bunch up the blanket in my hands, holding on for dear life.
Once my jeans are out of the way, Ana's touch pulls away from me and my eyes snap open to see where she's gone. She's standing again, her eyes locked with mine as she removes her own jeans, leaving both of us in just our underwear.
"God, you're beautiful," I breathe, pushing myself up on my elbows to better look at her.
She grins. "You're not so bad yourself," she whispers, approaching me again.
I fall back onto the bed as she climbs over me, pressing our bodies together. Somehow I manage to move us farther up the bed so that I'm resting against the pillows, which will undoubtedly be much more comfortable for her. Her legs straddle my hips as she leans forward to kiss me. Tentatively, I wrap my arms around her lower back, letting my fingers explore the outline of her panties, trailing doing her backside, and hear myself groaning into her mouth at the feel of dampness between her legs. Always so wet for me...
"Only you," she whispers as I stroke her. I didn't realize I'd spoken aloud, but her words only fuel the determination of my fingers. She moves against me, encouraging me and I know I can easily bring her to the very edge, but apparently that goes against her plans. She pulls away from me, sitting on my legs, breathing heavily. My heavy arms have fallen to my side and my body is cold without her touch. Somehow she shuffles around enough to remove her panties without leaving me for more than a second.
"Oh, fuck," I groan at the sight of her. I'm practically salivating at what I'm seeing: she's had a Brazilian wax at some point very recently. I want to ask when she did that, but I'm not about to ruin this moment with pointless questions. All I know is that she's does this for me and that she clearly had intentions for this to happen during the weekend. "Come here." My tone is begging. I know she knows my intentions and I smile at the eagerness with which she shuffles up my body until her knees are on either side of my head. I reach up, grasping her hips and pulling her down to meet my mouth.
She cries out as my tongue teases, circles, thrusts. Fuck, she tastes incredible... I move up to suck on her clit and she tenses. Though I can't quite see, I know she's thrown her head back, moaning as I move her against me. I groan against her and she shudders at the vibration. I know she's close. Increasing my speed and the pressure of my tongue inside her, I push her way over the edge, loving the way she screams my name. I'd forgotten how amazing that sound is. Sliding her away from me, I sit up, cupping her cheeks and kissing her deeply, letting her taste herself on me. She's panting again and I'm almost desperate to make her come again, to hear her cry out in ecstasy. As gently as I can manage, I roll us over so that she's on her back below me and I move between her legs, shoving down my boxer shorts and kicking them off the bed.
Resting on my elbows on either side of her head, I look deeply into her eyes. "This is what you want, Anastasia?" I ask in a whisper. I have to give her a chance.
Nodding breathlessly, she moans. "God, Christian, yes," she chokes out.
I nod back, determined to make this last, despite how low it's been since we've done this. Taking a deep breath, I position myself at her entrance, looking into her eyes again. I sink into her slowly, pressing our hips together. She gasps at the feeling, her eyes closing as I bury myself deep inside her. We're as close to one another as we can possibly be and I kiss her gently, urging her to open her eyes and look at me.
"I have to see you," I whisper. She opens her eyes immediately and wraps her arms around my back, her legs around my waist. This is where I belong. This is my home. For the longest time, neither of us moves; it's as though our bodies are reacquainting themselves with the other. When that connection isn't enough, I pull out almost completely, sliding back in achingly slowly. Our rhythm set, we lose ourselves.
I'd somehow forgotten how she feels wrapped around me. So warm, so wet, so tight... I feel her heels digging in, urging me to move faster. I'd planned on drawing this out for as long as possible, but it's been far too long. Besides, I've promised to give her everything she wants. Pushing up on my elbows, I thrust faster, harder, grinding my hips into hers, dropping my head to tease her nipples with my teeth. My body tightens and I know I'm not going to be able to hold back much longer. I'm pounding into her now, her moaning and groaning and pleading for me not to stop is almost too much.
"Come for me, Ana," I beg. "Please god, come for me."
She tightens her grip on me in every way as her orgasm hits. I sigh in relief and it only takes a couple more thrusts before I'm screaming my own release, holding her against me, whispering her name against her skin.
I don't know how long we lay like this, wrapped around each other as though we're trying to become one person. At some point, I find enough strength to pull away and look at her. Her eyes are open, sparkling with satisfaction and love and a hundred other emotions my fuzzy brain can't quite identify right now. She's smiling widely at me and I feel my own idiot-grin grow on my face. I laugh briefly, inexplicably, before I kiss her softly. The last thing I want is to leave her, but I know I have to; as I pull away, we both wince at the loss of contact and I flop to lie beside her, pulling her into my arms immediately.
What I'm feeling right now is nearly overwhelming. Relief. Happiness. Almost weightless. Loved. I feel tears pricking at the back of my eyes and I know it's because I've finally gotten back the part of me I so carelessly threw away. I need to say something, but there's only one thing I can think of to convey everything:
"I love you," I whisper against her hair. "So much."
She sighs happily. "I love you, too." She brings her left hand to rest against my chest and I realize this is the first time she's gotten a good look at the engagement ring I gave her. I went for simplicity rather than extravagance. A white gold band with diamonds set within it, wrapping her finger. Okay, it's simple for me.
"Do you like it?" I ask quietly, lifting her hand to look at it for myself.
She looks up at me, smiling. "Yes..."
My brow furrows when she trails off. "But..." I say leadingly.
She sighs. "I did like my original engagement ring."
"I know," I tell her. "But that ring is from our old life together. This one symbolizes a new beginning for us."
She nods as though she understands, resting her head on my chest again.
My mind flows through the memories of the evening and aside from the obvious, there's only one other thing on my mind. "I cannot believe you laughed at me," I tell her, unable to fill the words with as much sullenness as I'd intended.
Her expression is sheepish. "I really am sorry," she says, trying and failing to keep lingering amusement out of her tone. "You just... surprised me is all. In a good way."
"Obviously," I say, grinning. She rolls her eyes and I raise an eyebrow at her. Her eyes immediately widen right before I flip her onto her back, straddling her body. "Anastasia," I breathe, nuzzling her ear with my nose. "How many times do I have to tell you not to roll your eyes?"
Arching into me, she says huskily, "At least once more..."
I grin at the thought that she's challenging me. "Baby, once more won't be nearly enough."
She giggles and that's more than enough to get us going again. I will spend my entire night, weekend, lifetime worshipping this woman. And I will never get enough of her again.