"I recognize the symptoms, Miss Steele. I believe I have the same affiction."

"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 foor 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 reas- suring each other. As I tighten my arms around him, I realize I'm still holding his shoes. I drop them noisily to the foor.

"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 fngers.

"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 fn- gers, he unwraps and opens the box. His brow creases as he fshes out a small, rectangular, plastic keychain bearing a picture made up of tiny pixels that fash on and off like an LED screen. It depicts the Seattle skyline, focusing on the s.p.a.ce Needle, with the word SE- ATTLE written boldly across the landscape, fashing 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 fashes on and off on the key ring.

"Happy birthday," I whisper.

CHAPTER 20

"You'll marry me?" he whispers, incredulous.

I nod nervously, fushing 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 fngers, 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 cla.s.s." Some unnamed but dark emotion crosses his face briefy, 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 blink up into his speculative gray eyes.

"Wait a minute. You gave this to me before we saw Flynn," he says, holding up the keychain. He looks almost horrifed.

Oh dear, where's he going with this? I nod, keeping a straight face.

His mouth drops open.

I shrug apologetically. "I wanted you to know that whatever Flynn said, it wouldn't make a difference to me."

Christian blinks at me in disbelief. "So all yesterday evening, when I was begging you for an answer, I had it already?" He's dismayed. I nod again, trying desperately to gauge his reaction. He gazes at me in stupefed wonder, but then narrows his eyes and his mouth twists with amused irony.

"All that worry," he whispers ominously. I grin at him and shrug once more. "Oh, don't try and get cute with me, Miss Steele. Right now, I want ..." He runs his hand through his hair, then shakes his head and changes tack.

"I can't believe you left me hanging." His whisper is laced with disbelief. His expres- sion alters subtly, his eyes gleaming wickedly, his mouth twitching into a carnal smile.

Holy h.e.l.l. A thrill runs through me. What's he thinking?

"I believe some retribution is in order, Miss Steele," he says softly.

Retribution? Oh s.h.i.t! I know he's playing-but I take a cautious step back from him anyway.

He grins. "Is that the game?" he whispers. "Because I will catch you." And his eyes burn with a bright playful intensity. "And you're biting your lip," he says threateningly.

All of my insides tighten at once. Oh my. My future husband wants to play. I take an- other step back, then turn to run-but in vain. Christian grabs me, and in one easy swoop while I squeal with delight, surprise, and shock. He hoists me over his shoulder and heads down the hall.

"Christian!" I hiss, mindful that Jose is upstairs, though whether he could hear us is doubtful. I steady myself by clasping his lower back, then on a brave impulse, I swat his behind. He swats me right back.

"Ow!" I yelp.

"Shower time," he declares triumphantly.

"Put me down!" I try and fail to sound disapproving. My struggle is futile-his arm is frmly clamped over my thighs-and for some reason I cannot stop giggling.

"Fond of these shoes?" he asks amused as he opens the door to his bathroom.

"I prefer them to be touching the foor." I attempt to snarl at him, but it's not very ef- fective as I can't keep the laughter out of my voice.

"Your wish is my command, Miss Steele." Without putting me down, he slips off both of my shoes and lets them clatter to the tile foor. Pausing by the vanity, he empties his pockets-dead Blackberry, keys, wallet, the keychain. I can only imagine what I look like in the mirror from this angle. When he's fnished, he marches directly into his overlarge shower.

"Christian!" I scold loudly-his intent is now clear.

He switches the water on at max. Jeez! Arctic water spurts over my backside, and I squeal-then stop, mindful once more that Jose is above us. It's cold and I'm fully clothed.

The chilling water soaks into my dress, my panties, and my bra. I'm drenched and I cannot stop giggling.

"No!" I squeal. "Put me down!" I swat him again, harder this time, and Christian re- leases me, letting me slide down his now soaked body. His white shirt is stuck to his chest and his suit pants are sodden. I am soaked, too, fushed, giddy and breathless, and he's grinning down at me, looking so ... so unbelievably hot.

He sobers, his eyes shining, and cups my face again, drawing my lips to his. His kiss is gentle, cherishing, and totally distracting. I no longer care that I am fully clothed and soaking wet in Christian's shower. It's just the two of us beneath the cascading water. He's back, he's safe, he's mine.

My hands move involuntarily to his shirt as it clings to every line and sinew of his chest, revealing the hair scrunched beneath the white wetness. I yank the shirt hem out of his pants, and he groans against my mouth, but his lips do not leave mine. As I unb.u.t.ton his shirt, he reaches for my zipper, slowly sliding the clasp down my dress. His lips become more insistent, more provocative, his tongue invading my mouth-and my body explodes with desire. I tug his shirt hard, ripping it open. The b.u.t.tons fy everywhere, ricocheting off the tiles and disappearing onto the shower foor. As I strip the wet material off his shoulders and down his arms, I press him into the wall, hampering his attempts to undress me. "Cuf- finks," he murmurs, holding up his wrists where his shirt hangs sodden and limp.

With scrambling fngers, I release frst one and then the other cuff, letting his gold cuf- finks fall carelessly to the tiled foor and his shirt follows. His eyes search mine through the cascading water, his gaze burning, carnal, heated like the water. I reach for the waist- band of his pants, but he shakes his head and grabs my shoulders, spinning me round so I am facing away from him. He fnishes the long journey south with my zipper, smoothes my wet hair away from my neck, and runs his tongue up my neck to my hairline and back again, kissing and sucking as he goes.

I moan and slowly he peels my dress off my shoulders and down past my b.r.e.a.s.t.s, kiss- ing my neck beneath my ear. He unclasps my bra and pushes it off my shoulders, freeing my b.r.e.a.s.t.s. His hands reach around and cup each one as he murmurs his appreciation in my ear.

"So beautiful," he whispers.

My arms are trapped by my bra and dress, which hang unfastened below my b.r.e.a.s.t.s, my arms still in the sleeves but my hands are free. I roll my head, giving Christian better access to my neck and push my b.r.e.a.s.t.s into his magical hands. I reach round behind me and welcome his sharp intake of breath as my inquisitive fngers make contact with his erection. He pushes his groin into my welcoming hands. Dammit, why didn't he let me take his pants off?He tugs on my nipples, and as they harden and stretch under his expert touch, all thoughts of his pants disappear and pleasure spikes sharp and libidinous in my belly. I lean my head back against him and groan.

"Yes," he breathes and turns me once more, capturing my mouth with his. He peels my bra, dress and panties down so they join his shirt in a soggy heap on the shower foor.

I grab the body wash beside us. Christian stills as he realizes what I am about to do.

Staring him straight in the eye, I squirt some of the sweet-smelling gel into my palm and hold my hand up in front of his chest, waiting for an answer to my unspoken question. His eyes widen, then he gives me an almost imperceptible nod.

Gently I place my hand on his sternum and start to rub the soap into his skin. His chest rises as he inhales sharply, but he stands stock-still. After a beat, his hands clasp my hips, but he doesn't push me away. He watches me warily, his look intense more than scared, but his lips are parted as his breathing increases.

"Is this okay?" I whisper.

"Yes." His short, breathy reply is almost a gasp. I am reminded of the many showers we've had together, but the one at the Olympic is a bittersweet memory. Well, now I can touch him. I wash him using gentle circles, cleaning my man, moving to his underarms, over his ribs, down his fat frm belly, toward his happy trail, and the waistband of his pants.

"My turn," he whispers and reaches for the shampoo, shifting us out of range of the stream of water and squirting some on to the top of my head.

I think this is my cue to stop washing him, so I hook my fngers into his waistband. He works the shampoo into my hair, his frm, long fngers ma.s.saging my scalp. Groaning in appreciation, I close my eyes and give myself over to the heavenly sensation. After all the stress of the evening, this is just what I need.

He chuckles and I open one eye to fnd him smiling down at me. "You like?"

"Hmm ..."

He grins. "Me, too," he says and leans over to kiss my forehead, his fngers continuing their sweet, frm kneading of my scalp.

"Turn round," he says authoritatively. I do as I'm told, and his fngers slowly work over my head, cleansing, relaxing, loving me as they go. Oh, this is bliss. He reaches for more shampoo and gently washes the long tresses down my back. When he's fnished, he pulls me back under the shower.

"Lean your head back," he orders quietly.

I willingly comply, and he carefully rinses out the suds. When he's done, I face him once more and make a beeline for his pants.

"I want to wash all of you,"

I whisper. He smiles that lopsided smile and lifts his hands in a gesture that says "I'm all yours, baby." I grin; it feels like Christmas. I make short work of his zipper, and soon his pants and boxers join the rest of our clothing. I stand and reach for the body wash and the freshwater sponge.

"Looks like you're pleased to see me," I murmur dryly.

"I'm always pleased to see you, Miss Steele." He smirks at me.I soap the sponge, then retrace my journey over his chest. He's more relaxed-maybe because I'm not actually touching him. I head south with the sponge, across his belly, along the happy trail, through his pubic hair, and over and up his erection.

I peek up at him, and he regards me with hooded eyes and sensual longing. Hmm ... I like this look. I drop the sponge and use my hands, grasping him frmly. He closes his eyes, tips his head back, and groans, thrusting his hips into my hands.

Oh yes! It's so arousing. My inner G.o.ddess has resurfaced after her evening of rocking and weeping in the corner, and she's wearing harlot-red lipstick.

His burning eyes suddenly lock with mine. He's remembered something.

"It's Sat.u.r.day," he exclaims, eyes alight with salacious wonder, and he grasps my waist, pulling me to him and kissing me savagely.

Whoa-change of pace!

His hands sweep down my slick, wet body, round to my s.e.x, his fngers exploring, teas- ing, and his mouth is relentless, leaving me breathless. His other hand is in my wet hair, holding me in place while I bear the full force of his pa.s.sion unleashed. His fngers move inside me.

"Ahh," I moan into his mouth.

"Yes," he hisses and lifts me, his hands beneath my backside. "Wrap your legs around me, baby." My legs fold around him, and I cling like a limpet to his neck. He braces me against the wall of the shower and pauses, gazing down at me.

"Eyes open," he murmurs. "I want to see you."

I blink up at him, my heart hammering, my blood pulsing hot and heavy through my body, desire, real and rampant surging through me. Then he eases into me oh-so-slowly, flling me, claiming me, skin against skin. I push down against him and groan loudly. Once fully inside me, he pauses once more, his face strained, intense.

"You are mine, Anastasia," he whispers.