parked. Waiting beside them is a man with a shaved head and a wild look in his eye, accompanied by Taylor.
“Mr. Grey, this is your tow-pilot, Mr. Mark Benson,” says Taylor. Christian and Benson shake hands and strike up a conversation, which sounds very technical about wind speed, directions, and the like.
“Hello, Taylor,” I murmur shyly.
“Miss Steele.” He nods a greeting at me, and I frown. “Ana,” he corrects himself.
“He’s been hell on wheels the last few days. Glad we’re here,” he says conspiratorially.
“Anastasia,” Christian summons me. “Come.” He holds out his hand.
“See you later.” I smile at Taylor, and giving me a quick salute, he heads back to the parking lot.
“Mr. Benson, this is my girlfriend Anastasia Steele.”
“Pleased to meet you,” I murmur as we shake hands.
Benson gives me a dazzling smile.
“Likewise,” he says, and I can tell from his accent that he’s British.
As I take Christian’s hand, there’s a mounting excitement in my belly.
The plane itself is long, sleek, and white with orange stripes. It has a small cockpit with two seats one in front of the other. It’s attached by a long white cable to a small, conventional single-propeller plane. Benson opens the large, clear Perspex dome that frames the cockpit, allowing us to climb in.
“First we need to strap on your parachute.”
“I’ll do that,” Christian interrupts him and takes the harness off Benson, who smiles amenably at him.
“I’ll fetch some ballast,” Benson says and heads toward the plane.
“You like strapping me into things.” I observe dryly.
“Miss Steele, you have no idea. Here, step into the straps.”
I do as I’m told, placing my arm on his shoulder. Christian stiffens slightly but doesn’t move. Once my feet are in the loops, he pulls the parachute up, and I place my arms through the shoulder straps. Deftly he fastens the harness and tightens all the straps.
“There, you’ll do,” he says mildly, but his eyes are gleaming. “Do you have your hair tie from yesterday?”
I nod.
“You want me to put my hair up?”
“Yes.”
I quickly do as I’m asked.
“In you go,” Christian commands. He’s still so bossy. I go to climb into the back.
“No, front. Pilot sits at the back.”
“But won’t you be able to see.”
“I’ll see plenty.” He grins.
I don’t think I have ever seen him so happy, bossy, but happy. I clamber in, settling down into the leather seat. It is surprisingly comfortable. Christian leans over, pulls the harness over my shoulders, reaches between my legs for the lower belt, and slots it into the fastener that rests against my belly. He tightens all the restraining straps.
“Hmm, twice in one morning, I am a lucky man,” he whispers and kisses me quickly.
“This won’t take long – twenty, thirty minutes at most. Thermals aren’t great this time of the morning, but it’s so breathtaking up there at this hour. I hope you’re not nervous.”
“Excited.” I beam.
Where did this ridiculous grin come from? Actually, part of me is terrified. My inner goddess – she’s under a blanket behind the sofa.
“Good.” He grins back, stroking my face, then disappears from view.
I hear and feel his movements as he climbs in behind me. Of course he’s strapped me in so tightly I can’t move round to see him… typical! We are very low on the ground. In front of me is a panel of dials and levers and a big stick thing. I leave well alone.
Mark Benson appears with a cheerful grin as he checks my straps and leans in and checks the cockpit floor. I think it’s the ballast.
“Yep, that’s secure. First time?” he asks me.
