He pulls the mask off, but I don’t have the energy to open my eyes. Finding my braid, he undoes the hair tie and leans forward, kissing me softly on my lips. Only my erratic breathing disturbs the silence in the room and steadies as I float gently back to Earth. The music has stopped.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs.

When I persuade one eye to open, he’s gazing down at me, smiling softly.

“Hi,” he says. I manage a grunt in response, and his smile broadens. “Rude enough for you?”

I nod and give him a reluctant grin. Jeez, any ruder and I’d have to spank the pair of us.

“I think you’re trying to kill me,” I mutter.

“Death by orgasm.” He smirks. “There are worse ways to go,” he says but then frowns ever so slightly as an unpleasant thought crosses his mind. It distresses me. I reach up and caress his face.

“You can kill me like this anytime,” I whisper. I notice that he’s gloriously naked and ready for action. When he takes my hand and kisses my knuckles, I lean up and capture his face between my hands and pull his mouth to mine. He kisses me briefly, then stops.

“This is what I want to do,” he murmurs and reaches beneath his pillow for the music center remote. He presses a button and the soft strains of a guitar echo around the walls.

“I want to make love to you,” he says, gazing down at me, his gray eyes burning with bright, loving sincerity. Softly in the background, a familiar voice starts to sing “The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face.” And his lips find mine.

AS I TIGHTEN AROUND him, finding my release once more, Christian unravels in my arms, his head thrown back as he calls out my name. He clasps me tightly to his chest as we sit nose to nose in the middle of his vast bed, me astride him. And in this moment—this moment of joy with this man to this music—the intensity of my experience this morning in here with him and all that has occurred during the past week overwhelms me anew, not just physically but emotionally. I am completely overcome with all these feelings. I am so deeply in love with him. For the first time I’m offered a glimmer of understanding as to how he feels about my safety.

Recalling his close call with Charlie Tango yesterday, I shudder at the thought and tears pool in my eyes. If anything ever happened to him—I love him so. My tears run unchecked down my cheeks. So many sides of Christian—his sweet, gentle persona and his rugged, I-can-do-what-I-fucking-well-like-to-you-and-you’ll-come-like-a-train Dominant side—his fifty shades—all of him. All spectacular. All mine. And I’m aware we don’t know each other well, and we have a mountain of issues to overcome, but I know for each other, we will—and we’ll have a lifetime to do it.

“Hey,” he breathes, clasping my head in his hands, gazing down at me. He’s still inside me. “Why are you crying?” His voice is filled with concern.

“Because I love you so much,” I whisper. He half closes his eyes as if drugged, absorbing my words. When he opens them again, they blaze with his love.

“And I you, Ana. You make me … whole.” He kisses me gently as Roberta Flack finishes her song.

WE HAVE TALKED AND talked and talked, sitting upright together on the bed in the playroom, me in his lap, our legs curled around each other. The red satin sheet is draped around us like a royal cocoon, and I have no idea how much time has passed. Christian is laughing at my impersonation of Kate during the photo shoot at the Heathman.

“To think it could have been her who came to interview me. Thank the Lord for the common cold,” he murmurs and kisses my nose.

“I believe she had the flu, Christian,” I scold him, trailing my fingers idly through his chest hair and marveling that he’s tolerating it so well. “All the canes have gone,” I murmur, recalling my distraction from earlier. He tucks my hair behind my ear for the umpteenth time.

“I didn’t think you’d ever get past that hard limit.”

“No, I don’t think I will,” I whisper wide-eyed, then find myself glancing over at the whips, paddles, and floggers lining the opposite wall. He follows my gaze.

“You want me to get rid of them, too?” He’s amused but sincere.

“Not the crop … the brown one. Or that suede flogger.” I flush.

He smiles down at me.

“Okay, the crop and the flogger. Why, Miss Steele, you’re full of surprises.”

“As are you, Mr. Grey. It’s one of the things I love about you.” I kiss him gently at the corner of his mouth.

“What else do you love about me?” he asks and his eyes widen.

I know it’s a huge deal for him to ask this question. It humbles me and I blink at him. I love everything about him—even his fifty shades. I know that life with Christian will never be boring.

“This.” I stroke my index finger across his lips. “I love this, and what comes out of it, and what you do to me with it. And what’s in here.” I caress his temple. “You’re so smart and witty and knowledgeable, competent in so many things. But most of all, I love what’s in here.” I press my palm gently against his chest, feeling his steady beating heart. “You are the most compassionate man I’ve met. What you do. How you work. It’s awe-inspiring,” I whisper.

“Awe-inspiring?” He’s puzzled, but there’s a trace of humor on his face. Then his face transforms, and his shy smile appears as if he’s embarrassed, and I want to launch myself at him. So I do.

I AM DOZING, WRAPPED in satin and Grey. Christian nuzzles me awake.

“Hungry?” he whispers.

“Hmm, famished.”

“Me, too.”

I lean up to gaze down at him sprawled on the bed.

“It’s your birthday, Mr. Grey. I’ll cook you something. What would you like?”

“Surprise me.” He runs his hand down my back, stroking me gently. “I should check my BlackBerry for all the messages I missed yesterday.” He sighs and starts to sit up, and I know this special time is over … for now.

“Let’s shower,” he says.

Who am I to turn down the birthday boy?

CHRISTIAN IS IN HIS study on the phone. Taylor is with him, looking serious but casual in jeans and a tight black T-shirt. I busy myself in the kitchen fixing lunch. I have found salmon steaks in the fridge, and I’m poaching them in lemon, making a salad, and boiling some baby potatoes. I feel extraordinarily relaxed and happy, on top of the world—literally. Turning toward the large window, I stare out at the glorious blue sky. All that talking … all that sexing … hmm. A girl could get used to that.

Taylor emerges from the study, interrupting my reverie. I turn down my iPod and take out an earbud.

“Hi, Taylor.”

“Ana.” He nods.

“Your daughter okay?”

“Yes, thanks. My ex-wife thought she had appendicitis, but she was overreacting as usual.” Taylor rolls his eyes, surprising me. “Sophie’s fine, though she has a nasty stomach bug.”

“I’m sorry.”

He smiles.

“Has Charlie Tango been located?”

“Yes. The recovery team is on its way. She should be back at Boeing Field late tonight.”

“Oh, good.”

He gives me a tight smile. “Will that be all, ma’am?”

“Yes, yes, of course.” I flush … will I ever get used to Taylor calling me ma’am? It makes me feel so old, at least thirty.

He nods and heads out of the great room. Christian is still on the phone. I am waiting for the potatoes to boil. It gives me an idea. Fetching my purse, I fish out my BlackBerry. There’s a text from Kate.

I text back.

It will be good to talk to Kate.

Calling up the e-mail program, I type a quick message to Christian.

I listen carefully for a reaction, but he’s still on the phone. I shrug. Perhaps he’s just too busy. My BlackBerry vibrates.

I press send and look up, and he’s standing in front of me, smirking. Before I can say anything, he bounds around the kitchen island, sweeps me up in his arms, and kisses me soundly.

“That is all, Miss Steele,” he says, releasing me, and he saunters—in his jeans, bare feet, and untucked white shirt—back to his office, leaving me breathless.

I’VE MADE A WATERCRESS, cilantro, and sour cream dip to accompany the salmon, and I’ve set the breakfast bar. I hate interrupting him while he’s working, but now I stand in the doorway of his office. He’s still on the phone, all thoroughly fucked hair and bright gray eyes—a visually nourishing feast. He looks up when he sees me and doesn’t take his eyes off me. He frowns slightly, and I don’t know if it’s at me or because of his conversation.

“Just let them in and leave them alone. Do you understand, Mia?” he hisses and rolls his eyes. “Good.”

I mime eating, and he grins at me and nods.

“I’ll see you later.” He hangs up. “One more call?” he asks.

“Sure.”

“That dress is very short,” he adds.

“You like it?” I give him a quick twirl. It’s one of Caroline Acton’s purchases. A soft turquoise sundress, probably more suitable for the beach, but it’s such a lovely day on so many levels. He frowns and my face falls.

“You look fantastic in it, Ana. I just don’t want anyone else to see you like that.”

“Oh!” I scowl at him. “We’re at home, Christian. No one but the staff.”

His mouth twists, and either he’s trying to hide his amusement or he really doesn’t think that’s funny. But eventually he nods, reassured. I shake my head at him—he’s actually being serious? I head back to the kitchen.

Five minutes later, he’s back in front of me, holding the phone.

“I have Ray for you,” he murmurs, his eyes wary.

All the air leaves my body at once. I take the phone and cover the mouthpiece.

“You told him!” I hiss. Christian nods, and his eyes widen at my obvious look of distress.

Shit! I take a deep breath. “Hi, Dad.”

“Christian has just asked me if he can marry you,” Ray says.

The silence stretches between us as I desperately think of what to say. Ray as usual stays silent, giving me no clue as to his reaction to this news.

“What did you say?” I crack first.

“I said I wanted to talk to you. It’s kind of sudden, don’t you think, Annie? You’ve not known him long. I mean, he’s a nice guy, knows his fishing … but so soon?” His voice is calm and measured.

“Yes. It is sudden … hang on.” Hastily, I leave the kitchen area, away from Christian’s anxious gaze, and head toward the great window. The doors to the balcony are open, and I step out into the sunshine. I can’t quite walk to the edge. It’s just too far up.

“I know it’s sudden and all—but … well, I love him. He loves me. He wants to marry me, and there’ll never be anyone else for me.” I flush thinking this is probably the most intimate conversation I have ever had with my stepfather.

Ray is silent on the other end of the phone.

“Have you told your mother?”

“No.”

“Annie … I know he’s all kinds of rich and eligible, but marriage? It’s such a big step. You’re sure?”

“He’s my happily ever after,” I whisper.

“Whoa,” Ray says after a moment, his tone softer.

“He’s everything.”

“Annie, Annie, Annie. You’re such a headstrong young woman. I hope to God you know what you’re doing. Hand me back to him, will you?”

“Sure, Dad, and will you give me away at the wedding?” I ask quietly.

“Oh, honey.” His voice cracks, and he’s quiet for a few moments, the emotion in his voice bringing tears to my eyes. “Nothing would give me greater pleasure,” he says eventually.