gasp, and I feel rather than see his responding grin against my skin. He rolls over so that I

am astride him and hands me a foil packet.

I shift back, taking him in my hands, and I just can’t resist him in all his glory. I bend

and kiss him, taking him in my mouth, swirling my tongue around him, then sucking hard.

He groans and flexes his hips so that he’s deeper in my mouth.

Mmm . . . he tastes good.I want him inside me. I sit up and gaze at him; he’s breathless,

mouth open, watching me intently.

Hurriedly I tear open the condom and unroll it over him. He holds out his hands for

me. I take one and with my other hand, position myself over him, then slowly claim him

as mine.

He groans low in his throat, closing his eyes.

The feel of him in me . . . stretching . . . filling me—I moan softly— it’s divine.He places his hands on my hips and moves me up, down, and pushes into me. Oh . . . it’s so good.

“Oh, baby,” he whispers, and suddenly he sits up so we’re nose to nose, and the sensa-

tion is extraordinary—so full. I gasp, grabbing his upper arms as he clasps my head in his

hands and gazes into my eyes—his intense and gray, burning with desire.

“Oh, Ana. What you make me feel,” he murmurs and kisses me passionately with fer-

vent ardor. I kiss him back, dizzy with the delicious feeling of him buried deep inside me.

“Oh, I love you,” I murmur. He groans as if pained to hear my whispered words and

rolls over, taking me with him without breaking our precious contact, so that I’m lying

beneath him. I wrap my legs around his waist.

He stares down at me with adoring wonder, and I am sure I mirror his expression as I

reach up to caress his beautiful face. Very slowly, he starts to move, closing his eyes as he

does and moaning softly.

The gentle sway of the boat and the peace and quiet tranquility of the cabin are broken

only by our mingled breaths as he moves slowly in and out of me, so controlled and so

good—it’s heavenly. He puts his arm over my head, his hand on my hair, and he caresses

my face with the other as he bends to kiss me.

I’m cocooned by him, as he loves me, slowly moving in and out, savoring me. I touch

him—sticking to the boundaries—his arms, his hair, his lower back, his beautiful behind—

and my breathing accelerates as his steady rhythm pushes me higher and higher. He’s kiss-

ing my mouth, my chin, my jaw, then nibbling my ear. I can hear his staccato breaths with

each gentle thrust of his body.

My body starts to quiver. Oh . . . This feeling that I now know so well . . . I am close . . .

Oh . . .

“That’s right, baby . . . give it up for me . . . Please . . . Ana,” he murmurs and his words

are my undoing.

“Christian,” I call out, and he groans as we both come together.

“Mac will be back soon,” he murmurs.

“Hmm.” My eyes flicker open to meet his soft gray gaze. Lord, his eyes are an amazing

color—especially here, out on the sea—reflecting the light bouncing off the water through

the small portholes into the cabin.

“As much as I’d like to lie here with you all afternoon, he’ll need a hand with the din-

ghy.” Leaning over, Christian kisses me tenderly. “Ana, you look so beautiful right now, all

mussed up and sexy. Makes me want you more.” He smiles and rises from the bed. I lay on

my front admiring the view.

“You ain’t so bad yourself, captain.” I smack my lips in admiration and he grins.

I watch him move gracefully about the cabin as he dresses. He really is divinely beauti-

ful, and what’s more, he’s just made such sweet love to me again. I can hardly believe my

good fortune. I can’t quite believe that this man is mine. He sits down beside me to put on

his shoes.

“Captain, eh?” he says dryly. “Well, I am master of this vessel.”

I cock my head to one side. “You are master of my heart, Mr. Grey.” And my body . . .

and my soul.

He shakes his head incredulously and bends to kiss me. “I’ll be on deck. There’s a

shower in the bathroom if you want one. Do you need anything? A drink?” he asks solici-

tously, and all I can do is grin at him. Is this the same man? Is this the same Fifty?

“What?” he says, reacting to my stupid grin.

“You.”

“What about me?”

“Who are you and what have you done with Christian?”

He lips twitch with a sad smile.

“He’s not very far away, baby,” he says softly, and there’s a touch of melancholy in his

voice that makes me instantly regret asking the question. But he shakes it off. “You’ll see

him soon enough”—he smirks at me—“especially if you don’t get up.” Reaching over, he

smacks me hard on my behind so I yelp and laugh at the same time.

“You had me worried.”

“Did I, now?” Christian’s brow creases. “You do give off some mixed signals, An-

astasia. How’s a man supposed to keep up?” He leans down and kisses me again. “Lat-

ers, baby,” he adds, and with a dazzling smile, he gets up and leaves me to my scattered

thoughts.

When I surface on deck, Mac is back on board, but he disappears onto the upper deck as

I open the saloon doors. Christian is on his Blackberry. Talking to whom?I wonder. He

wanders over and pulls me close, kissing my hair.

“Great news . . . good. Yeah . . . Really? The fire escape stairwell? . . . I see . . . Yes,

tonight.”

He hits the end button, and the sound of the engines firing up startles me. Mac must be

in the cockpit above.

“Time to head back,” Christian says, kissing me once more as he straps me into my

lifejacket.

The sun is low in the sky behind us as we make our way back to the marina, and I reflect

on a wonderful afternoon. Under Christian’s careful, patient tuition, I have now stowed a

mainsail, a headsail, and a spinnaker and learned to tie a reef knot, clove hitch, and sheep-

shank. His lips were twitching throughout the lesson.

“I may tie you up one day,” I mutter crabbily.

His mouth twists with humor. “You’ll have to catch me first, Miss Steele.”

His words bring to mind him chasing me round the apartment, the thrill, then the hid-

eous aftermath. I frown and shudder. After that, I left him.

Would I leave him again now that he’s admitted he loves me? I gaze up into his clear

gray eyes. Could I ever leave him again—no matter what he did to me? Could I betray him

like that? No. I don’t think I could.

He’s given me a more thorough tour of this beautiful boat, explaining all the innova-

tive designs and techniques, and the high-quality materials used to build it. I remember

the interview when I first met him. I picked up then on his passion for ships. I thought his

love was only for the ocean-going freighters his company builds—not for super-sexy, sleek

catamarans, too.

And, of course, he’s made sweet, unhurried love to me. I shake my head, remember-

ing my body bowed and wanting beneath his expert hands. He is an exceptional lover, I’m

sure—though, of course, I have no comparison. But Kate would have raved more if it was

always like this; it’s not like her to hold back on details.

But how long will this be enough for him? I just don’t know, and the thought is un-

nerving.

Now he sits, and I stand in the safe circle of his arms for hours, it seems, in comfort-

able, companionable silence as The Graceglides closer and closer to Seattle. I have the

wheel, Christian advising on adjustments every so often.

“There is poetry in sailing as old as the world,”1 he murmurs in my ear.