“Hold tight… keep it steady. See the middle dial in front? Keep the needle dead cen-

ter.”My heart is in my mouth. Holy shit.I am flying a glider… I’m soaring.

“Good girl.” Christian sounds delighted.

“I am amazed you let me take control,” I shout.

“You’d be amazed what I’d let you do, Miss Steele. Back to me now.”

I feel the joystick move suddenly, and I let go as we spiral down several feet, my ears

starting to pop again. The ground is getting closer, and it feels like we could be hitting it

shortly. Jeez, that’s scary.

“BMA, this is BG N Papa 3 Alpha, entering left downwind runway seven to the grass,

BMA.” Christian sounds his usual authoritative self. The tower squawks back at him over

the radio, but I don’t understand what they say. We sail round again in a wide circle, sink-

ing slowly to the ground. I can see the airport, the landing strips, and we’re flying back

over I-95.

“Hang on, baby. This can get bumpy.”

After another circle we dip, and suddenly we are on the ground with a brief thump,

racing along the grass – holy shit.My teeth chatter as we bump at an alarming speed along

the ground, until we finally come to a stop. The plane sways slightly then dips to the right.

I take a deep lungful of air while Christian leans over and opens the cockpit lid, clambering

out and stretching.

“How was that?” he asks, and his eyes are a shining, dazzling silver gray. He leans

down to unbuckle me.

“That was extraordinary. Thank you,” I whisper.

“Was it more?” he asks, his voice tinged with hope.

“Much more,” I breathe, and he grins.

“Come.” He holds out his hand for me, and I clamber out of the cockpit.

As soon as I’m out, he grabs me and holds me flush against his body. Suddenly his

hand is in my hair, tugging it so my head tips back, and his other hand travels down to the

base of my spine. He kisses me, long, hard, and passionately, his tongue in my mouth.

His breathing is mounting, his ardor … Holy cow– his erection… we’re in a field. But I

don’t care. My hands twist in his hair, anchoring him to me. I want him, here, now, on

the ground. He breaks away and gazes down at me, his eyes now dark and luminous in

the early morning light, full of raw, arrogant sensuality. Wow. He takes my breath away.

“Breakfast,” he whispers, making it sound deliciously erotic.

How can he make bacon and eggs sound like forbidden fruit? It’s an extraordinary

skill. He turns, clasping my hand, and we head back toward the car.

“What about the glider?”

“Someone will take care of that?”, he says dismissively. “We’ll eat now.” His tone is

unequivocal.

Food!He’s talking food, when really all I want is him.

“Come.” He smiles.

I have never seen him like this, and it’s a joy to behold. I find myself walking beside

him, hand in hand, with a stupid, goofy grin plastered on my face. It reminds me of when I

was ten and spending the day in Disneyland with Ray. It was a perfect day, and this is sure

shaping out to be the same.

Back in the car, as we head back along I-95 towards Savannah, my phone alarm goes

off. Oh yes… my pill.

“What’s that?” Christian asks, curious, glancing at me.

I fumble in my purse for the packet.

“Alarm for my pill,” I mutter as my cheeks flush.

His lips quirk up.

“Good, well done. I hate condoms.”

I flush some more. He’s as patronizing as ever.

“I like that you introduced me to Mark as your girlfriend,” I murmur.

“Isn’t that what you are?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Am I? I thought you wanted a submissive.”

“So did I, Anastasia, and I do. But I’ve told you, I want more, too.”

Oh my.He’s coming round, and hope surges through me, leaving me breathless.

“I’m very happy that you want more,” I whisper.

“We aim to please, Miss Steele.” He smirks as we pull into the International House of

Pancakes.

“IHOP.” I grin back at him. I don’t believe it. Who would have thought… Christian

Grey at IHOP.

It’s 8:30 a.m. but quiet in the restaurant. It smells of sweet batter, fried food, and disinfec-

tant. Hmm… not such an enticing aroma.Christian leads me to a booth.

“I would never have pictured you here,” I say as we slide into a booth.

“My dad used to bring us to one of these whenever my mom went away at a medical

conference. It was our secret.” He smiles at me, gray eyes dancing, then picks up a menu,

running a hand through his wayward hair as he stares down at it.

Oh, I want to run my hands through that hair.I pick up a menu and examine it. I real-

ize I’m starving.

“I know what I want,” he breathes, his voice low and husky.

I glance up at him, and he’s staring at me in that way that tightens all the muscles in my

belly and takes my breath away, his eyes dark and smoldering. Holy shit.I gaze at him,

my blood singing in my veins answering his call.

“I want what you want,” I whisper.

He inhales sharply.

“Here?” he asks suggestively, raising an eyebrow at me, smiling wickedly, his teeth

trapping the tip of his tongue.

Oh my… sex in IHOP.His expression changes, growing darker.

“Don’t bite your lip,” he orders. “Not here, not now.” His eyes harden momentarily,

and for a moment, he looks so deliciously dangerous. “If I can’t have you here, don’t tempt

me.”“Hi, My name’s Leandra, What can I get for you… er… folks… er… today, this

mornin… ?” Her voice trails off, stumbling over her words as she gets an eye full of Mr.

Beautiful opposite me. She flushes scarlet, and a small ounce of sympathy for her bubbles

unwelcome into my consciousness because he still does that to me. Her presence allows

me to escape briefly from his sensual glare.

“Anastasia?” he prompts me, ignoring her, and I don’t think anyone could squeeze as

much carnality into my name as he does at that moment.

I swallow, praying that I don’t go the same color as poor Leandra.

“I told you, I want what you want.” I keep my voice soft, low, and he looks at me hun-

grily. Jeez, my inner goddess swoons. Am I up to this game?

Leandra looks from me to him and back again. She’s practically the same color as her

shiny red hair.

“Shall I give you folks another minute to decide?”

“No. We know what we want.” Christian’s mouth twitches with a small, sexy smile.

“We’ll have two portions of the original buttermilk pancakes with maple syrup and

bacon on the side, two glasses of orange juice, one black coffee with skim milk, and one

English breakfast tea, if you have it,” says Christian, not taking his eyes off me.

“Thank you sir. Will that be all?” Leandra whispers, looking anywhere but at the two

of us. We both turn to stare at her, and she flushes crimson again and scuttles away.

“You know it’s really not fair.” I glance down at the Formica tabletop, tracing a pattern

in it with my index finger, trying to sound nonchalant.

“What’s not fair?”

“How you disarm people. Women. Me.”

“Do I disarm you?”

I snort.

“All the time.”

“It’s just looks, Anastasia,” he says mildly.

“No, Christian, it’s much more than that.”

His brow creases.

“You disarm me totally, Miss Steele. Your innocence. It cuts through all the crap.”

“Is that why you’ve changed your mind?”

“Changed my mind?”

“Yes – about … err… us?”

He strokes his chin thoughtfully with his long, skilled fingers.

“I don’t think I’ve changed my mind per se. We just need to re-define our parameters,

re-draw our battle lines, if you will. We can make this work, I’m sure. I want you submis-