What?
"Lying on the floor - so cold - and you wouldn't wake up."
Oh, Fifty.
"Hey - it was just a bad dream." Reaching up, I clasp his head in my hands. His eyes burn into mine and the anguish in them is sobering.
"I'm here and I'm cold without you in the bed. Come back to bed, please." I take his hand and stand, waiting to see if he'll follow me. Finally he stands, too. He's wearing his pajama bottoms, and they hang in that way he has, and I want to run my fingers along the inside of his waistband, but I resist and lead him back to the bedroom.
When I wake he's curled around me, sleeping peacefully. I relax and enjoy his enveloping heat, his skin on my skin. I lie very still, not wanting to disturb him.
Boy, what an evening. I feel like I've been run over by a train - the freight train that is my husband. Hard to believe that the man lying beside me, looking so serene and young in his sleep, was so tortured last night . . . and so tortured me last night. I gaze up at the ceiling, and it occurs to me that I always think of Christian as strong and dominating - yet the reality is he's so fragile, my lost boy. And the irony is that he looks upon me as fragile - and I don't think I am. Compared to him I'm strong.
But am I strong enough for both of us? Strong enough to do what I'm told and give him some peace of mind? I sigh. He's not asking that much of me. I flit through our conversation of last night. Did we decide anything other than to both try harder? The bottom line is that I love this man, and I need to chart a course for both of us. One that lets me keep my integrity and independence but still be more for him. I am his more, and he is mine. I resolve to make a special effort this weekend not to give him cause for concern.
Christian stirs and lifts his head off my chest, blinking sleepily at me.
"Good morning, Mr. Grey." I smile.
"Good morning, Mrs. Grey. Did you sleep well?" He stretches out beside me.
"Once my husband stopped making that terrible racket on the piano, yes, I did."
He smiles his shy smile, and I melt. "Terrible racket? I'll be sure to e-mail Miss Kathie and let her know."
"Miss Kathie?"
"My piano teacher."
I giggle.
"That's a lovely sound," he says. "Shall we have a better day today?"
"Okay," I agree. "What do you want to do?"
"After I have made love to my wife, and she's cooked me breakfast, I'd like to take her to Aspen."
I gape at him. "Aspen?"
"Yes."
"Aspen, Colorado?"
"The very same. Unless they've moved it. After all, you did pay twenty-four thousand dollars for the experience."
I grin at him. " That was your money."
"Our money."
"It was your money when I made the bid." I roll my eyes.
"Oh, Mrs. Grey, you and your eye rolling," he whispers as he runs his hand up my thigh.
"Won't it take hours to get to Colorado?" I ask to distract him.
"Not by jet," he says silkily as his hand reaches my behind. Of course - my husband has a jet. How could I forget? His hand continues to skim up my body, lifting my nightdress as it goes, and soon I've forgotten everything.
Taylor drives us onto the tarmac at Sea-Tac and around to where the GEH jet is waiting. It's a gray day in Seattle, but I refuse to let the weather dampen my soaring spirits. Christian is in a much better mood - he's excited about something; lit up like Christmas, and twitching like a small boy with a big secret. I wonder what scheme he's dreamed up. He looks dreamy - all tousled hair, white T-shirt and black jeans - not CEO-like at all today. He takes my hand as Taylor glides to a stop at the foot of the jet steps.
"I have a surprise for you," he murmurs and kisses my knuckles. I grin at him. "Good surprise?"
"I hope so." He smiles warmly.
Hmm . . . what can it be?
Sawyer leaps out from the front and opens my door. Taylor opens Christian's then retrieves our cases from the trunk. Stephan is waiting at the top of the stairs when we enter the aircraft. I glance into the cockpit to see First Officer Beighley flipping switches on the imposing instrument panel.
Christian and Stephan shake hands. "Good morning, sir." Stephan beams at Christian.
"Thanks for doing this at such short notice." Christian grins back at him. "Our guests here?"
"Yes sir," Stephan replies.
Guests? I turn and gasp. Kate, Elliot, Mia, and Ethan are all seated in the cream leather seats, smiling at us. Wow! My eyes whip to Christian's.
"Surprise!" he says.
"How? When? Who?" I mumble inarticulately, trying to contain my delight and elation.
"You said you didn't see enough of your friends." He shrugs and gives me a lopsided, apologetic smile.
"Oh, Christian, thank you." I throw my arms around his neck and kiss him hard in front of everyone. He puts his hands on my hips, hooking his thumbs through the belt loops of my jeans, and deepens the kiss.
Oh my.
"Keep this up and I'll drag you into the bedroom," he murmurs.
"You wouldn't dare," I whisper against his lips.
"Oh, Anastasia." He grins, shaking his head. He releases me and without further preamble, stoops down, grabs my thighs, and lifts me over his shoulder.
"Christian, put me down!" I smack his behind.
I briefly catch Stephan's smile as he turns and heads into the cockpit. Taylor is standing at the doorway trying to stifle his grin. Ignoring my pleas and my futile struggles, Christian strides through the narrow cabin past Mia and Ethan who are facing each other in the single seats, past Kate and Elliot, who is whooping like a demented gibbon.