“Oh, baby.” She feels incredible.

“I want you to make love to me.” Her words ring in my head.

And gently, oh so gently, I start to move, feeling every precious inch of her beneath and around me. I kiss her, appreciating her mouth and her body at once. She wraps her legs around mine, meeting each gentle thrust, rocking against me until she spirals up and up and up and lets go.

Her orgasm tips me over the edge. “Ana!” I call, pouring myself into her. Letting go. A welcome release that leaves me…wanting more. Needing more.

As my equilibrium returns, I push away the strange swell of emotion that gnaws at my insides. It’s not like the darkness, but it’s something to fear. Something I don’t understand.

She flexes her fingers around mine, and I open my eyes and look down into her sleepy, sated gaze.

“I enjoyed that,” I whisper, and give her a lingering kiss.

She rewards me with a drowsy smile. I get up, cover her with the comforter, pick up my PJ pants, and pad into the bathroom, where I remove and dispose of the condom. I pull on my pants and find the arnica cream.

Back at the bed, Ana gives me a contented grin.

“Roll over,” I order, and for a moment I think she’s going to roll her eyes, but she indulges me and moves. “Your ass is a glorious color,” I observe, pleased with the results. I squirt some cream on my palm and slowly massage it into her behind.

“Spill the beans, Grey,” she says with a yawn.

“Miss Steele, you know how to ruin a moment.”

“We had a deal,” she insists.

“How do you feel?”

“Shortchanged.”

With a heavy sigh I place the arnica cream on the bedside table and slip into bed, pulling Ana into my arms. I kiss her ear. “The woman who brought me into this world was a crack whore, Anastasia. Go to sleep.”

She tenses in my arms.

I still. I do not want her sympathy or her pity.

“Was?” she whispers.

“She’s dead.”

“How long?”

“She died when I was four. I don’t really remember her. Carrick has given me some details. I only remember certain things. Please go to sleep.”

After a while she relaxes against me. “Good night, Christian.” Her voice is sleepy.

“Good night, Ana.” I kiss her once more, inhaling her soothing scent and fighting off my memories.

“Don’t just pick the apples and throw them away, asshole!”

“Fuck off, you righteous dweeb.”

Elliot picks an apple, takes a bite, and throws it at me.

“Maggot,” he taunts.

No! Don’t call me that.

I jump him. Pounding my fists into his face.

“You fucking pig. This is food. You’re just wasting it. Grandpa sells these. You pig. Pig. Pig.”

“ELLIOT. CHRISTIAN.”

Dad drags me off Elliot, who is cowering on the ground.

“What is this about?”

“He’s insane.”

“Elliot!”

“He’s destroying the apples.” Anger swells in my chest, in my throat. I think I might explode. “He’s taking a bite and then throwing them away. Throwing them at me.”

“Elliot, is this true?”

Elliot turns red under Dad’s hard stare.

“I think you’d better come with me. Christian, pick up the apples. You can help Mom bake a pie.”

She’s fast asleep when I wake, my nose in her fragrant hair, my arms cocooning her. I’ve dreamed about romping through my grandfather’s apple orchard with Elliot; those were happy, angry days.

It’s nearly seven—another lie-in with Miss Steele. It’s odd waking up beside her, but odd in a good way. I contemplate waking her with a morning fuck; my body is more than willing—but she’s practically comatose and she might be sore. I should let her sleep. I climb out of bed, careful not to wake her, grab a T-shirt, gather her clothes from the floor, and wander into the living room.

“Good morning, Mr. Grey.” Mrs. Jones is busy in the kitchen.

“Good morning, Gail.” Stretching, I look out the windows at the remnants of a vivid dawn.

“You have some laundry there?” she asks.

“Yes. These are Anastasia’s.”

“Do you want me to wash and press them?”

“Do you have time?”

“I’ll put them on the quick cycle.”

“Excellent, thank you.” I pass her Ana’s clothes. “How was your sister?”

“Very well, thanks. The kids are growing. Boys can be rough.”

“I know.”

She smiles and offers to make me some coffee.

“Please. I’ll be in my study.” As she watches me her smile changes from pleasant to knowing…in the way that’s feminine and secretive. Then she hurries out of the kitchen, I assume to the laundry room.

What’s her problem?

Okay, this is the first Monday—the first time—in the four years she’s worked for me that there’s been a woman asleep in my bed. But it’s not that big a deal. Breakfast for two, Mrs. Jones. I think you can manage that.

I shake my head and wander into my study to start work. I’ll shower later…maybe with Ana.

I check my e-mails and send one to Andrea and Ros, saying I’ll be in this afternoon, not this morning. Then I take a look at Barney’s latest schematics.

GAIL KNOCKS AND BRINGS me a second cup of coffee, letting me know it’s already 8:15.

That late?

“I’m not going into the office this morning.”

“Taylor was asking.”

“I’ll go this afternoon.”

“I’ll tell him. I’ve hung Miss Steele’s clothes in your closet.”

“Thank you. That was quick. She still asleep?”

“I think so.” And there’s that little smile again. I arch my brows and her smile broadens as she turns to leave my study. I put my work aside and head off with my coffee to take a shower and have a shave.

ANA IS STILL OUT for the count when I finish dressing.

You’ve exhausted her, Grey. And it was pleasurable, more than pleasurable. She looks serene, as if she doesn’t have a care in the world.

Good.

From the chest I take my watch, and on an impulse open the top drawer and pocket my last condom.

You never know.

I amble back through the living room toward my study.

“Do you want your breakfast yet, sir?”

“I’ll have breakfast with Ana. Thanks.”

I pick up the phone and call Andrea from my desk. After we’ve exchanged a few words she puts me through to Ros.

“So when can we expect you?” Ros’s tone is sarcastic.

“Good morning, Ros. How are you?” I say sweetly.

“Pissed.”

“At me?”

“Yes, at you, and your hands-off work ethic.”

“I’ll be in later. The reason I’m calling is I’ve decided to liquidate Woods’s company.” I’ve told her this already, but she and Marco are taking too long. I want this done, now. I remind her that this was going to happen if the company’s P&L didn’t improve. And it hasn’t.

“He needs more time.”

“I’m not interested, Ros. We’re not carrying deadweight.”

“Are you sure?”

“I don’t want any more lame excuses.” Enough, already. I’ve made up my mind.

“Christian—”

“Have Marco call me, it’s shit-or-bust time.”

“Okay. Okay. If that’s what you really want. Anything else?”

“Yes. Tell Barney that the prototype looks good, though I’m not sure about the interface.”

“I thought the interface worked well, once I figured it out. Not that I’m an expert.”

“No, it’s just missing something.”

“Talk to Barney.”

“I want to meet him this afternoon to discuss.”

“Face-to-face?”

Her sarcasm is irritating. But I ignore her tone and tell her that I want his whole team there to brainstorm.

“He’ll be pleased. So I’ll see you this afternoon?” She sounds hopeful.

“Okay,” I reassure her. “Transfer me back to Andrea.”

While I wait for her to pick up the phone I gaze out at the cloudless sky. It’s the same shade as Ana’s eyes.