Part II 3

laugh!laugh!“Yes.” I struggle to maintain my look of moral outrage.“An arse?” Christian says again. This time his lipstwitch with a repressed smile.“Don’t make me laugh when I am mad at you!” Ishout.And he smiles, a dazzling, full-toothed, all-Americanboysmile, and I can’t help it. I am grinning and laughing,too. How could I not be affected by the joy I see in hissmile?“Just because I ha一ve a stupid damn grin on my facedoesn’t mean I’m not mad as hell at you,” I mutterbreathlessly, trying to suppress my high-schoolcheerleadergiggling. Though I was never cheerleader—the bitter thought crosses my mind.He leans in, and I think he’s going to kiss me but hedoesn’t. He nuzzles my hair and inhales deeply.“As ever, Miss Steele, you are unexpected.” He leansback and gazes at me, his eyes dancing with humor. “Soare you going to invite me in, or am I to be sent packingfor exercising my democratic right as an American citizen,entrepreneur, and consumer to purchase whatever I damnwell please?”“Ha一ve you spoken to Dr. Flynn about this?”He laughs. “Are you going to let me in or not,Anastasia?”I try for a grudging look—biting my lip helps—but I’msmiling as I open the door. Christian turns and wa一ves toTaylor, and the Audi pulls away.It’s odd ha一ving Christian Grey in the apartment. The placefeels too small for him.I am still mad at him—his stalking knows no bounds,and it dawns on me that this is how he knew about the emailbeing monitored at SIP. He probably knows moreabout SIP than I do. The thought is unsa一vory.What can I do? Why does he ha一ve this need to keepme safe? I am a grown-up—sort of—for hea一ven’s sake.What can I do to reassure him?I gaze at his beautiful face as he paces the room like acaged predator, and my anger subsides. Seeing him here inmy space when I thought we were over is heartwarming.More than heartwarming, I love him, and my heart swellswith a nervous, heady elation. He glances around,assessing his surroundings.“Nice place,” he says.“Kate’s parents bought it for her.”He nods distractedly, and his bold gray eyes come torest on mine, staring at me.“Er . . . would you like a drink?” I mutter, flushing withnerves.“No, thank you, Anastasia.” His eyes darken.Oh crap. Why am I so nervous?“What would you like to do, Anastasia?” he asks softlyas he walks toward me, all feral and hot. “I know what Iwant to do,” he adds in a low voice.I back up until I bump against the concrete kitchenisland.“I’m still mad at you.”“I know.” He smiles a lopsided apologetic smile and Imelt . . . Well, maybe not so mad.“Would you like something to eat?” I ask.He nods slowly. “Yes. You,” he murmurs. Everythingsouth of my waistline clenches. I’m seduced by his voicealone, but that look, that hungry I-want-you-now look—oh my.He’s standing in front of me, not quite touching, staringdown into my eyes and bathing me in the heat that’sradiating off his body. I’m stiflingly hot, flustered, and mylegs are like jelly as dark desire courses through me. Iwant him.“Ha一ve you eaten today?” he murmurs.“I had a sandwich at lunch,” I whisper. I don’t want totalk food.He narrows his eyes. “You need to eat.”“I’m really not hungry right now . . . for food.”“What are you hungry for, Miss Steele?”“I think you know, Mr. Grey.”He leans down, and again I think he’s going to kiss me,but he doesn’t.“Do you want me to kiss you, Anastasia?” he whisperssoftly in my ear.“Yes,” I breathe.“Where?”“Everywhere.”“You’re going to ha一ve to be a bit more specific thanthat. I told you I am not going to touch you until you begme and tell me what to do.”My inner goddess is writhing on her chaise longue. Iam lost; he’s not playing fair.“Please,” I whisper.“Please what?”“Touch me.”“Where, baby?”He is so tantalizingly close, his scent intoxicating. Ireach up, and immediately he steps back.“No, no,” he chides, his eyes suddenly wide andalarmed.“What?” No . . . come back.“No.” He shakes his head.“Not at all?” I can’t keep the longing out of my voice.He looks at me uncertainly, and I’m emboldened byhis hesitation. I step toward him, and he steps back,holding up his hands in defense, but smiling.“Look, Ana.” It’s a warning, and he runs his handthrough his hair, exasperated.“Sometimes you don’t mind,” I observe plaintively.“Perhaps I should find a marker pen, and we could mapout the no-go areas.”He raises an eyebrow. “That’s not a bad idea.Where’s your bedroom?”I nod in the direction. Is he deliberately changing thesubject?“Ha一ve you been taking your pill?”Oh shit. My pill.His face falls at my expression.“No,” I squeak.“I see,” he says, and his lips press into a thin line.“Come, let’s ha一ve something to eat.”Oh no!“I thought we were going to bed! I want to go to bedwith you.”“I know, baby.” He smiles, and suddenly dartingtoward me, he grabs my wrists and pulls me into his armsso that his body is pressed against mine.“You need to eat and so do I,” he murmurs, burninggray eyes gazing down at me. “Besides . . . anticipation isthe key to seduction, and right now, I’m really into delayedgratification.”Huh, since when?“I’m seduced and I want my gratification now. I’ll beg,please.” I sound whiney. My inner goddess is besideherself.He smiles at me tenderly. “Eat. You’re too slender.”He kisses my forehead and releases me.This is a game, part of some evil plan. I scowl at him.“I’m still mad that you bought SIP, and now I am madat you because you’re making me wait.” I pout.“You are one angry little madam, aren’t you? You’llfeel better after a good meal.”“I know what I’ll feel better after.”“Anastasia Steele, I’m shocked.” His tone is gentlymocking.“Stop teasing me. You don’t fight fair.”“Stop teasing me. You don’t fight fair.”He stifles his grin by biting his lower lip. He lookssimply adorable . . . playful Christian toying with my libido.If only my seduction skills were better, I’d know what todo, but not being able to touch him does hamper me.My inner goddess narrows her eyes and looksthoughtful. We need to work on this.As Christian and I gaze at each other—me hot,bothered and yearning and him, relaxed and amused at myexpense—I realize I ha一ve no food in the apartment.“I could cook something—except we’ll ha一ve to goshopping.”“Shopping?”“For groceries.”“You ha一ve no food here?” His expression hardens.I shake my head. Crap, he looks quite angry.“Let’s go shopping, then,” he says sternly as he turnson his heel and heads for the door, opening it wide for me.“When was the last time you were in a supermarket?”Christian looks out of place, but he follows medutifully, holding a shopping basket.“I can’t remember.”“Does Mrs. Jones do all the shopping?”“I think Taylor helps her. I’m not sure.”“Are you happy with a stir-fry? It’s quick.”“Stir-fry sounds good.” Christian grins, no doub一tfiguring out my ulterior motive for a speedy meal.“Ha一ve they worked for you long?”“Ha一ve they worked for you long?”“Taylor, four years, I think. Mrs. Jones about thesame. Why didn’t you ha一ve any food in the apartment?”“You know why,” I murmur, flushing.“It was you who left me,” he mutters disapprovingly.“I know,” I reply in a small voice, not wanting thatreminder.We reach the checkout and silently stand in line.If I hadn’t left, would he ha一ve offered the vanillaalternative? I wonder idly.“Do you ha一ve anything to drink?” He pulls me back tothe present.“Beer . . . I think.”“I’ll get some wine.”Oh dear. I’m not sure what sort of wine is a一vailable inErnie’s Supermarket. Christian remerges empty handed,grimacing with a look of disgust.“There’s a good liquor store next door,” I say quickly.“I’ll see what they ha一ve.”Maybe we should just go to his place, then wewouldn’t ha一ve all this hassle. I watch as he strollspurposefully and with easy grace out of the door. Twowomen coming in stop and stare. Oh yes, eye my FiftyShades, I think despondently.I want the memory of him in my bed, but he’s playinghard to get. Maybe I should, too. My inner goddess nodsfrantically in agreement. And as I stand in line, we come upwith a plan. Hmm . . .Christian carries the grocery bags into the apartment. He’scarried them as we’ve walked back to the apartment fromthe store. He looks odd. Not his usual CEO demeanor atall.“You look very—domestic.”“No one has ever accused me of that before,” he saysdryly. He places the bags on the kitchen island. As I startto unload them, he takes out a bottle of white wine andsearches for a corkscrew.“This place is still new to me. I think the opener is inthat drawer there.” I point with my chin.This feels so . . . normal. Two people, getting to knoweach other, ha一ving a meal. Yet it’s so strange. The fear thatI’d always felt in his presence has gone. We’ve alreadydone so much together, I blush just thinking about it, andyet I hardly know him.“What are you thinking about?” Christian interrupts myreverie as he shrugs out of his pinstripe jacket and places iton the couch.“How little I know you, really.”He gazes at me and his eyes soften. “You know mebetter than anyone.”“I don’t think that’s true.” Mrs. Robinson comesunbidden, and very unwelcome, into my mind.“It is, Anastasia. I am a very, very private person.”He hands me a glass of white wine.“Cheers,” he says.“Cheers,” I respond taking a sip as he puts the bottle inthe fridge.the fridge.“Can I help you with that?” he asks.“No it’s fine . . . sit.”“I’d like to help.” His expression is sincere.“You can chop the vegetables.”“I don’t cook,” he says, regarding the knife I hand himwith suspicion.“I imagine you don’t need to.” I place a choppingboard and some red peppers in front of him. He staresdown at them in confusion.“You’ve never chopped a vegetable?”“No.”I smirk at him.“Are you smirking at me?”“It appears this is something that I can do and youcan’t. Let’s face it, Christian, I think this is a first. Here, I’llshow you.”I brush up against him and he steps back. My innergoddess sits up and takes notice.“Like this.” I slice the red pepper, careful to removethe seeds.“Looks simple enough.”“You shouldn’t ha一ve any trouble with it,” I mutterironically.He gazes at me impassively for a moment then setsabout his task as I continue to prepare the diced chicken.He starts to slice, carefully, slowly. Oh my, we’ll be hereall day.I wash my hands and hunt for the wok, the oil, and theother ingredients I need, repeatedly brushing against him—my hip, my arm, my back, my hands. Small, seeminglyinnocent touches. He stills each time I do.“I know what you’re doing, Anastasia,” he murmursdarkly, still preparing the first pepper.“I think it’s called cooking,” I say, fluttering myeyelashes. Grabbing another knife, I join him at thechopping board peeling and slicing garlic, shallots, andFrench beans, continually bumping against him.“You’re quite good at this,” he mutters as he starts onhis second red pepper.“Chopping?” I bat my eyelashes at him. “Years ofpractice.” I brush against him again, this time with mybehind. He stills once more.“If you do that again, Anastasia, I am going to take youon the kitchen floor.”Oh, wow. It’s working. “You’ll ha一ve to beg me first.”“Is that a challenge?”“Maybe.”He puts down his knife and saunters slowly over tome, his eyes burning. Leaning past me, he switches the gasoff. The oil in the wok quiets almost immediately.“I think we’ll eat later,” he says. “Put the chicken in thefridge.”This is not a sentence I had ever expected to hear fromChristian Grey, and only he can make it sound hot, reallyhot. I pick up the bowl of diced chicken, rather shakilyplace a plate on top of it, and stow it in the fridge. When Iturn back, he’s beside me.“So you’re going to beg?” I whisper, bra一vely gazinginto his darkening eyes.“No, Anastasia.” He shakes his head. “No begging.”His voice is soft, seductive.And we stand staring at each other, drinking eachother in—the atmosphere charging between us, almostcrackling, neither saying anything, just looking. I bite my lipas desire for this beautiful man seizes me with a vengeance,igniting my blood, shallowing my breath, pooling below mywaist. I see my reactions reflected in his stance, in hiseyes.In a beat, he grabs me by my hips and pulls me to himas my hands reach for his hair and his mouth claims me.He pushes me against the fridge, and I hear the vagueprotesting rattle of bottles and jars from within as histongue finds mine. I moan into his mouth, and one of hishands moves into my hair, pulling my head back as wekiss, sa一vagely.“What do you want, Anastasia?” he breathes.“You.” I gasp.“Where?”“Bed.”He breaks free, scoops me into his arms, and carriesme quickly and seemingly without any strain into mybedroom. Setting me on my feet beside my bed, he leansdown and switches on my bedside lamp. He glancesquickly round the room and hastily closes the pale creamcurtains.“Now what?” he says softly.“Make love to me.”“How?”Jeez.“You ha一ve got to tell me, baby.”Holy crap. “Undress me.” I am panting already.He smiles and hooks his index finger into my openshirt, pulling me toward him.“Good girl,” he murmurs, and without taking his blazingeyes off mine, slowly starts to unbutton my shirt.Tentatively I put my hands on his arms to steadymyself. He doesn’t complain. His arms are a safe area.When he’s finished with the buttons, he pulls my shirt overmy shoulders, and I let go of him to let the shirt fall to thefloor. He reaches down to the waistband of my jeans,pops the button, and pulls down the zipper.“Tell me what you want, Anastasia.” His eyes smolderand his lips part as he takes quick shallow breaths.“Kiss me from here to here,” I whisper trailing myfinger from the base of my ear, down my throat. Hesmoothes my hair out of the line of fire and bends, lea一vingsweet soft kisses along the path my finger took and thenback again.“My jeans and panties,” I murmur, and he smilesagainst my throat before he drops to his knees in front ofme. Oh, I feel so powerful. Hooking his thumbs into myjeans, he gently pulls them and my panties down my legs. Istep out of my pumps and my clothes so that I’m leftwearing only my bra. He stops and looks up at meexpectantly, but he doesn’t get up.expectantly, but he doesn’t get up.“What now, Anastasia?”“Kiss me,” I whisper.“Where?”“You know where.”“Where?”Oh, he’s taking no prisoners. Embarrassed I quicklypoint at the apex of my thighs, and he grins wickedly. Iclose my eyes, mortified, but at the same time beyondaroused.“Oh, with pleasure,” he chuckles. He kisses me andunleashes his tongue, his joy-inspiring expert tongue. Igroan and fist my hands into his hair. He doesn’t stop, histongue circling my clitoris, driving me insane, on and on,round and round. Ahhh . . . it’s only been . . . howlong . . . ? Oh . . .“Christian, please,” I beg. I don’t want to comestanding up. I don’t ha一ve the strength.“Please what, Anastasia?”“Make love to me.”“I am,” he murmurs, gently blowing against me.“No. I want you inside me.”“Are you sure?”“Please.”He doesn’t stop his sweet, exquisite torture. I moanloudly.“Christian . . . please.”He stands and gazes down at me, and his lips glistenwith the evidence of my arousal.Holy cow . . .Holy cow . . .“Well?” he asks.“Well what?” I pant, staring up at him in frantic need.“I’m still dressed.”I gape at him in confusion.Undress him? Yes, I can do this. I reach for his shirtand he steps back.“Oh no,” he admonishes. Shit, he means his jeans.Oh, and this gives me an idea. My inner goddesscheers loudly to the rafters, and I drop to my knees infront of him. Rather clumsily and with shaking fingers, Iundo his waistband and fly, then yank down his jeans andboxers, and he springs free. Wow.I peek up at him through my lashes, and he’s gazing atme with . . . what? Trepidation? Awe? Surprise?He steps out of his jeans and pulls off his socks, and Itake hold of him in my hand and squeeze tightly, pushingmy hand back like he’s shown me before. He groans andtenses, and his breath hisses through clenched teeth. Verytentatively, I put him in my mouth and suck—hard. Mmm,he tastes good.“Ahh. Ana . . . whoa, gently.”He cups my head tenderly, and I push him deeper intomy mouth, pressing my lips together as tightly as I can,sheathing my teeth, and sucking hard.“Fuck,” he hisses.Oh, that’s a good, inspiring, sexy sound, so I do itagain, pulling his length deeper, swirling my tongue aroundthe end. Hmm . . . I feel like Aphrodite.“Ana, that’s enough. No more.”“Ana, that’s enough. No more.”I do it again—Beg, Grey, beg—and again.“Ana, you’ve made your point,” he grunts throughgritted teeth. “I do not want to come in your mouth.”I do it once more, and he bends down, grasps me bymy shoulders, hauls me to my feet, and tosses me on thebed. Dragging his shirt over his head, he then reachesdown to his discarded jeans, and like a good boy scout,produces a foil packet. He’s panting, like me.“Take your bra off,” he orders.I sit up and do as I’m told.“Lie down. I want to look at you.”I lie down, gazing up at him as he slowly rolls thecondom on. I want him so badly. He stares down at meand licks his lips.“You are a fine sight, Anastasia Steele.” He bendsover the bed and slowly crawls up and over me, kissingme as he goes. He kisses each of my breasts and teasesmy nipples in turn, while I groan and writhe beneath him,and he doesn’t stop.No . . . Stop. I want you.“Christian, please.”“Please what?” he murmurs between my breasts.“I want you inside me.”“Do you now?”“Please.”Gazing at me, he pushes my legs apart with his andmoves so that he’s hovering above me. Without taking hiseyes off mine, he sinks into me at a deliciously slow pace.I close my eyes, relishing the fullness, the exquisiteI close my eyes, relishing the fullness, the exquisitefeeling of his possession, instinctively tilting my pelvis up tomeet him, to join with him, groaning loudly. He eases backand very slowly fills me again. My fingers find their wayinto his silken unruly hair, and he oh-so-slowly moves inand out again.“Faster, Christian, faster . . . please.”He gazes down at me in triumph and kisses me hard,then really starts to move—holy cow, a punishing,relentless . . . oh fuck—and I know it will not be long. Hesets a pounding rhythm. I start to quicken, my legs tensingbeneath him.“Come on, baby,” he gasps. “Give it to me.”His words are my undoing, and I explode,magnificently, mind-numbingly, into a million pieces aroundhim, and he follows calling out my name.“Ana! Oh fuck, Ana!” He collapses on top of me, hishead buried in my neck.As sanity returns, I open my eyes and gaze up into the faceof the man I love. Christian’s expression is soft, tender. Hestrokes his nose against mine, bearing his weight on hiselbows, his hands holding mine by the side of my head.Sadly, I suspect that’s so I don’t touch him. He plants agentle kiss on my lips as he eases himself out of me.“I’ve missed this,” he breathes.“Me too,” I whisper.He takes hold of my chin and kisses me hard. Apassionate, beseeching kiss, asking for what? I don’tpassionate, beseeching kiss, asking for what? I don’tknow. It lea一ves me breathless.“Don’t lea一ve me again,” he implores, looking deep intomy eyes, his face serious.“Okay,” I whisper and smile at him. His answeringsmile is dazzling; relief, elation, and boyish delightcombined into one enchanting look that would melt thecoldest of hearts. “Thank you for the iPad.”“You are most welcome, Anastasia.”“What’s your fa一vorite song on there?”“Now that would be telling.” He grins. “Come cookme some food, wench. I’m famished,” he adds, sitting upsuddenly and dragging me with him.“Wench?” I giggle.“Wench. Food, now, please.”“Since you ask so nicely, sire, I’ll get right on to it.”As I scramble out of bed, I dislodge my pillow,revealing the deflated helicopter balloon underneath.Christian reaches for it and gazes up at me, puzzled.“That’s my balloon,” I say, feeling proprietary as I“That’s my balloon,” I say, feeling proprietary as Ireach for my robe and wrap it round myself. Oh jeez . . .why did he ha一ve to find that?“In your bed?” he murmurs.“Yes,” I flush. “It’s been keeping me company.”“Lucky Charlie Tango,” he says, in surprise.Yes, I’m sentimental, Grey, because I love you.“My balloon,” I say again and turn on my heel andhead out to the kitchen, lea一ving him grinning from ear toear.Christian and I sit on Kate’s persian rug, eating stir-frychicken and noodles from white china bowls withchopsticks and sipping chilled white Pinot Grigio. Christianleans against the couch, his long legs stretched out in frontof him. He’s wearing his jeans and his shirt with his justfuckedhair, and that’s all. The Buena Vista Social Clubcroons softly in the background from Christian’s iPod.“This is good,” he says appreciatively as he digs intohis food.I sit cross-legged beside him, eating greedily, beyondhungry, and admire his naked feet.“I usually do all the cooking. Kate isn’t a great cook.”“Did you your mother teach you?”“Not really,” I scoff. “By the time I was interested inlearning, my mom was living with Husband Number Threein Mansfield, Texas. And Ray, well, he would’ve lived ontoast and takeout if it wasn’t for me.”Christian gazes down at me. “You didn’t stay in Texaswith your mom?”“No. Steve, her husband and I, we didn’t get along.And I missed Ray. Her marriage to Steve didn’t last long.She came to her senses, I think. She never talks abouthim,” I add quietly. I think that’s a dark part of her life,which we’ve never discussed.“So you came back to Washington to live with yourstepfather.”“Yes.”“Sounds like you looked after him,” he says softly.“Sounds like you looked after him,” he says softly.“I suppose.” I shrug.“You’re used to taking care of people.”The edge in his voice attracts my attention, and Iglance up at him.“What is it?” I ask, startled by his wary expression.“I want to take care of you.” His luminous eyes glowwith some unnamed emotion.My heart rate spikes.“I’ve noticed,” I whisper. “You just go about it in astrange way.”His brow creases. “It’s the only way I know how,” hesays quietly.“I’m still mad at you for buying SIP.”He smiles. “I know but you being mad, baby, wouldn’tstop me.”“What am I going to say to my work colleagues, toJack?”He narrows his eyes. “That fucker better watchhimself.”himself.”“Christian!” I admonish. “He’s my boss.”Christian’s mouth presses into a hard line. He lookslike a recalcitrant schoolboy.“Don’t tell them,” he says.“Don’t tell them what?”“That I own it. The heads of agreement was signedyesterday. The news is embargoed for four weeks whilethe management at SIP makes some changes.”“Oh . . . will I be out of a job?” I ask, alarmed.“I sincerely doub一t it,” Christian says wryly, trying tostifle his smile.I scowl. “If I lea一ve and find another job, will you buythat company, too?”“You’re not thinking of lea一ving, are you?” Hisexpression alters, wary once more.“Possibly. I’m not sure you’ve given me a great deal ofchoice.”“Yes, I will buy that company, too.” He is adamant.I scowl at him again. I am in a no-win situation here.“Don’t you think you’re being a tad overprotective?”“Yes. I am fully aware of how this looks.”“Paging Dr. Flynn,” I murmur.He puts down his empty bowl and gazes at meimpassively. I sigh. I don’t want to fight. Standing up, Ireach for his bowl.“Would you like dessert?”“Now you’re talking!” he says, giving me a lasciviousgrin.“Not me.” Why not me? My inner goddess wakesfrom her doze and sits upright, all ears. “We ha一ve icecream. Vanilla.” I snicker.“Really?” Christian’s grin gets bigger. “I think we coulddo something with that.”What? I stare at him dumbfounded as he gracefullygets to his feet.“Can I stay?” he asks.“What do you mean?”“The night.”“I assumed that you were.” I flush.“I assumed that you were.” I flush.“Good. Where’s the ice cream?”“In the oven.” I smile sweetly at him.He cocks his head to one side, sighs, and shakes hishead at me. “Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, MissSteele.” His eyes glitter.Oh shit. What’s he planning?“I could still take you across my knee.”I place the bowls in the sink. “Do you ha一ve those silverball things?”He pats his hands down his chest, belly, and thepockets of his jeans. “Funnily enough, I don’t carry aspare set around with me. Not much call for them in theoffice.”“I am very glad to hear it, Mr. Grey, and I thought yousaid that sarcasm was the lowest form of wit.”“Well, Anastasia, my new motto is if you can’t beat‘em, join ‘em.”I gape at him—I can’t believe he’s just said that —and he looks sickeningly pleased with himself as he grins atand he looks sickeningly pleased with himself as he grins atme. Turning, he opens the freezer and takes out the cartonof Ben & Jerry’s finest vanilla.“This will do just fine.” He looks up at me, eyes dark.“Ben & Jerry’s & Ana.” He says each word slowly,enunciating every syllable clearly.Oh fucking my. I think my lower jaw is on the floor.He opens the cutlery drawer and grabs a spoon. When helooks up, his are eyes hooded, and his tongue skims histop teeth. Oh, that tongue.I feel winded. Desire, dark, sleek, and wanton runs hotthrough my veins. We’re going to ha一ve fun, with food.“I hope you’re warm,” he whispers. “I’m going to coolyou down with this. Come.” He holds out his hand, and Iplace mine in his.In my bedroom he places the ice cream on my bedsidetable, pulls the duvet off the bed, and removes both thepillows, placing them all in a pile on the floor.“You ha一ve a change of sheets, don’t you?”I nod, watching him, fascinated. He holds up CharlieTango.“Don’t mess with my balloon,” I warn.His lips quirk upward in half a smile. “Wouldn’t dreamof it, baby, but I do want to mess with you and thesesheets.”My body practically convulses.“I want to tie you up.”Oh. “Okay,” I whisper.“Just your hands. To the bed. I need you still.”“Okay,” I whisper again, incapable of anything more.He strolls over to me, not taking his eyes off mine.“We’ll use this.” He takes hold of my robe sash andwith delicious, teasing slowness, releases the bow, andgently pulls it free of the garment.My robe falls open while I stand paralyzed under hisheated gaze. After a moment, he pushes the robe off myshoulders. It falls and pools at my feet so that I’m standingnaked before him. He strokes my face with the backs ofhis knuckles, and his touch resonates in the depths of mygroin. Bending, he kisses my lips briefly.groin. Bending, he kisses my lips briefly.“Lie on the bed, face up,” he murmurs, his eyesdarkening, burning into mine.I do as I’m told. My room is shrouded in darknessexcept for the soft, insipid light from my lamp.Normally, I hate energy-sa一ving bulbs—they are so dim—but being naked here, with Christian, I’m grateful for themuted light. He stands by the bed gazing down at me.“I could look at you all day, Anastasia,” he says, andwith that crawls on to the bed, up my body, and straddlesme.“Arms above your head,” he commands.I comply and he fastens the end of my robe sash roundmy left wrist and threads the end through the metal bars atthe head of my bed. He pulls it tight so my left arm isflexed above me. He then secures my right hand, tying thesash tightly.When I’m tied-up, staring at him, he visibly relaxes. Helikes me tethered. I can’t touch him this way. It occurs tome that none of his subs would ha一ve touched him either—me that none of his subs would ha一ve touched him either—and what’s more, they would never ha一ve the opportunityto. He would ha一ve always been in control and at adistance. That’s why he likes his rules.He climbs off me and bends to give me a quick peckon the lips. Then he stands and lifts his shirt over his head.He undoes his jeans and drops them to the floor.He is gloriously naked. My inner goddess is doing atriple axel dismount off the uneven bars, and abruptly mymouth is dry. He really is beyond beautiful. He has aphysique drawn on classical lines: broad muscularshoulders, narrow hips, the inverted triangle. He obviouslyworks out. I could look at him all day. He moves to theend of the bed and grasps my ankles, pulling me swiftlyand sharply downward so that my arms are stretched outand unable to move.“That’s better,” he mutters.Picking up the tub of ice cream, he climbs smoothlyback onto the bed to straddle me once more. Very slowly,he peels off the lid of the tub and dips the spoon in.“Hmm . . . it’s still quite hard,” he says with a raisedbrow. Scooping out a spoonful of the vanilla, he pops itinto his mouth. “Delicious,” he murmurs, licking his lips.“Amazing how good plain old vanilla can taste.” He gazesdown at me and smirks. “Want some?” he teases.He looks so freaking hot, young and carefree—sittingon me and eating from a tub of ice cream—eyes bright,face luminous. Oh what the hell is he going to do to me?As if I can’t tell. I nod, shyly.He scoops out another spoonful and offers me thespoon, so I open my mouth, then he quickly pops it in hismouth again.“This is too good to share,” he says, smiling wickedly.“Hey,” I start in protest.“Why, Miss Steele, do you like your vanilla?”“Yes,” I say more forcefully than I mean and try in vainto buck him off.He laughs. “Getting feisty, are we? I wouldn’t do that ifI were you.”“Ice cream,” I plead.“Ice cream,” I plead.“Well, as you’ve pleased me so much today, MissSteele.” He relents and offers me another spoonful. Thistime he lets me eat it.I want to giggle. He’s really enjoying himself, and hisgood humor is infectious. He scoops another spoonful andfeeds me some more, then he does it again. Okay,enough.“Hmm, well, this is one way to ensure you eat—forcefeedyou. I could get used to this.”Taking another spoonful, he offers me more. This timeI keep my mouth shut and shake my head, and he lets itslowly melt on the spoon so that the melted ice creamdrips, onto my throat, onto my chest. He dips down andvery slowly licks it off. My body lights up with longing.“Mmm. Tastes even better off you, Miss Steele.”I pull against my restraints and the bed creaksominously, but I don’t care—I’m burning with desire, it’sconsuming me. He takes another spoonful and lets the icecream dribble onto my breasts. Then with the back of thecream dribble onto my breasts. Then with the back of thespoon, he spreads it over each breast and nipple.Oh . . . it’s cold. Each nipple peaks and hardensbeneath the cool of the vanilla.“Cold?” Christian asks softly and bends to lick andsuckle all the ice cream off me once more, his mouth hotcompared to the cool of the ice.Oh my. It’s torture. As it starts to melt, the ice creamruns off me in rivulets on to the bed. His lips continue theirslow torture, sucking hard, nuzzling, softly—Oh please!—I’m panting.“Want some?” And before I can confirm or deny hisoffer, his tongue is in my mouth, and it’s cold and skilledand tastes of Christian and vanilla. Delicious.And just as I am getting used to the sensation, he sitsup again and trails a spoonful of ice cream down the centerof my body, across my stomach, and into my na一vel wherehe deposits a large dollop of ice cream. Oh, this is chillierthan before, but weirdly it burns.“Now, you’ve done this before.” Christian’s eyesshine. “You’re going to ha一ve to stay still, or there will beice cream all over the bed.” He kisses each of my breastsand sucks each of my nipples hard, then follows the line ofice cream down my body, sucking and licking as he goes.And I try, I try to stay still despite the headycombination of cold and his inflaming touch. But my hipsstart to move involuntarily, gyrating to their own rhythm,caught up in his cool vanilla spell. He shifts lower andstarts eating the ice cream in my belly, swirling his tongueinto and around my na一vel.I moan. Holy cow. It’s cold, it’s hot, it’s tantalizing,but he doesn’t stop. He trails the ice cream further downmy body, into my pubic hair, on to my clitoris. I cry out,loudly.“Hush now,” Christian says softly as his magical tonguesets to work lapping up the vanilla, and now I’m keeningquietly.“Oh . . . please . . . Christian.”“I know, baby, I know,” he breathes as his tongueworks its magic. He doesn’t stop, just doesn’t stop, andworks its magic. He doesn’t stop, just doesn’t stop, andmy body is climbing—higher, higher. He slips one fingerinside me, then another and he moves them with agonizingslowness in and out.“Just here,” he murmurs, and he rhythmically strokesthe front wall of my vagina while he continues the exquisite,relentless licking and sucking. Holy fucking cow.I erupt unexpectedly into a mind-blowing orgasm thatstuns all my senses, obliterating all that’s happening outsideof my body as I writhe and groan. Jeez, that was soquick.I am vaguely aware that he has stopped hisministrations. He’s hovering over me, sliding on a condom,and then he’s inside me, hard and fast.“Oh yes!” He groans as he slams into me. He’s sticky—the residual melted ice cream spreading between us. It’sa strangely distracting sensation, but one I can’t dwell onfor more than a few seconds as Christian suddenly pullsout of me and flips me over.“This way,” he murmurs and abruptly is inside me once“This way,” he murmurs and abruptly is inside me oncemore, but he doesn’t start his usual punishing rhythmstraight away. He leans over, releases my hands, and pullsme upright so I am practically sitting on him. His handsmove up to my breasts, and he palms them both, tugginggently on my nipples. I groan, tossing my head backagainst his shoulder. He nuzzles my neck, biting down, ashe flexes his hips, deliciously slowly, filling me again andagain.“Do you know how much you mean to me?” hebreathes against my ear.“No,” I gasp.He smiles against my neck, and his fingers curl aroundmy jaw and throat, holding me fast for a moment.“Yes, you do. I’m not going to let you go.”I groan as he picks up speed.“You are mine, Anastasia.”“Yes, yours,” I pant.“I take care of what’s mine,” he hisses and bites myear.I cry out.“That’s right, baby, I want to hear you.” He snakesone hand around my waist while his other hand grasps myhip, and he pushes into me harder, making me cry outagain. And the punishing rhythm starts. His breathinggrows harsher and harsher, ragged, matching mine. I feelthe familiar quickening deep inside. Jeez again!I am just sensation. This is what he does to me—takesmy body and possesses it wholly so that I think of nothingbut him. His magic is powerful, intoxicating. I’m a butterflycaught in his net, unable and unwilling to escape. I’mhis . . . totally his.“Come on, baby,” he growls through gritted teeth andon cue, like the sorcerer’s apprentice I am, I let go, andwe find our release together.I am lying curled up in his arms on sticky sheets. His frontis pressed to my back, his nose in my hair.“What I feel for you frightens me,” I whisper.He stills. “Me too, baby,” he says quietly.“What if you lea一ve me?” The thought is horrific.“I’m not going anywhere. I don’t think I could everha一ve my fill of you, Anastasia.”I turn and gaze at him. His expression is serious,sincere. I lean over and kiss him gently. He smiles andreaches up to tuck my hair behind my ear.“I’ve never felt the way I felt when you left, Anastasia.I would move hea一ven and earth to a一void feeling like thatagain.” He sounds so sad, dazed even.I kiss him again. I want to lighten our mood somehow,but Christian does it for me.“Will you come with me to my father’s summer partytomorrow? It’s an annual charity thing. I said I’d go.”I smile, feeling suddenly shy.“Of course I’ll come.” Oh shit. I ha一ve nothing to wear.“What?”“Nothing.”“Tell me,” he insists.“Tell me,” he insists.“I ha一ve nothing to wear.”Christian looks momentarily uncomfortable.“Don’t be mad, but I still ha一ve all those clothes for youat home. I am sure there are a couple of dresses in there.”I purse my lips. “Do you, now?” I mutter, my voicesardonic. I don’t want to fight with him tonight. I need ashower.The girl who looks like me is standing outside SIP. Hangon—she is me. I am pale and unwashed, and all myclothes are too big; I’m staring at her, and she’s wearingmy clothes—happy, healthy.“What do you ha一ve that I don’t?” I ask her.“Who are you?”“I’m nobody . . . Who are you? Are you nobody,too . . . ?”“Then there’s a pair of us—don’t tell, they’d banish us,you know . . .” She smiles, a slow, evil grimace thatyou know . . .” She smiles, a slow, evil grimace thatspreads across her face, and it’s so chilling that I start toscream.“Jesus, Ana!” Christian is shaking me awake.I am so disorientated. I’m at home . . . in thedark . . . in bed with Christian. I shake my head, tryingto clear my mind.“Baby, are you okay? You were ha一ving a bad dream.”“Oh.”He switches on the lamp so we’re bathed in its dimlight. He gazes down at me, his face etched with concern.“The girl,” I whisper.“What is it? What girl?” he asks soothingly.“There was a girl outside SIP when I left this evening.She looked like me . . . but not really.”Christian stills, and as the light from the bedside lampwarms up, I see his face is ashen.“When was this?” he whispers, dismayed. He sits up,staring down at me.“When I left this afternoon. Do you know who she is?”“Yes.” He runs a hand through his hair.“Who?”His mouth presses into a hard line, but he says nothing.“Who?” I press.“It’s Leila.”I swallow. The ex-sub! I remember Christian talkingabout her before we went gliding. Suddenly, he’s radiatingtension. Something is going on.“The girl who put ‘Toxic’ on your iPod?”He glances at me anxiously.“Yes,” he says. “Did she say anything?”“She said, ‘what do you ha一ve that I don’t ha一ve?’ andwhen I asked who she was, she said, ‘nobody.’ ”Christian closes his eyes as if in pain. Oh no. What’shappened? What does she mean to him?My scalp prickles as adrenaline spikes through mybody. What if she means a lot to him? Perhaps hemisses her? I know so little about his past . . . um,misses her? I know so little about his past . . . um,relationships. She must ha一ve had a contract, and shewould ha一ve done what he wanted, given him what heneeded gladly.Oh no—when I can’t. The thought makes menauseous.Climbing out of bed, Christian drags on his jeans andheads into the main room. A glance at my alarm clockshows it’s five in the morning. I roll out of bed, putting hiswhite shirt on, and follow him.Holy shit, he’s on the phone.“Yes, outside SIP, yesterday . . . early evening,” hesays quietly. He turns to me as I move toward the kitchenand asks me directly, “What time exactly?”“About ten to six?” I mumble. Who on earth is hecalling at this hour? What’s Leila done? He relays theinformation to whoever’s on the line, not taking his eyes offme, his expression dark and earnest.“Find out how . . . Yes . . . I wouldn’t ha一ve said so,but then I wouldn’t ha一ve thought she could do this.” Hebut then I wouldn’t ha一ve thought she could do this.” Hecloses his eyes as if he’s in pain. “I don’t know how thatwill go down . . . Yes, I’ll talk to her . . . Yes . . . Iknow . . . Follow it up and let me know. Just find her,Welch—she’s in trouble. Find her.” He hangs up.“Do you want some tea?” I ask. Tea, Ray’s answer toevery crisis and the only thing he does well in the kitchen. Ifill the kettle with water.“Actually, I’d like to go back to bed.” His look tellsme that it’s not to sleep.“Well, I need some tea. Would you like to join me fora cup?” I want to know what’s going on. I will not besidetracked by sex.He runs his hand through his hair in exasperation. “Yes,please,” he says, but I can tell he’s irritated.I put the kettle on the stove and busy myself withteacups and the teapot. My anxiety level has shot toDEFCON ONE. Is he going to tell me the problem? Or am Igoing to ha一ve to dig?I sense his eyes on me—sense his uncertainty, and hisI sense his eyes on me—sense his uncertainty, and hisanger is palpable. I glance up, and his eyes glitter withapprehension.“What is it?” I ask softly.He shakes his head.“You’re not going to tell me?”He sighs and closes his eyes. “No.”“Why?”“Because it shouldn’t concern you. I don’t want youtangled up in this.”“It shouldn’t concern me, but it does. She found meand accosted me outside my office. How does she knowabout me? How does she know where I work? I think Iha一ve a right to know what’s going on.”He runs a hand through his hair again, radiatingfrustration as if waging some internal battle.“Please?” I ask softly.His mouth sets into a hard line, and he rolls his eyes atme.“Okay,” he says, resigned. “I ha一ve no idea how shefound you. Maybe the photograph of us in Portland, Idon’t know.” He sighs again, and I sense his frustration isdirected at himself.I wait patiently, pouring boiling water into the teapot ashe paces back and forth. After a beat he continues.“While I was with you in Georgia, Leila turned up atmy apartment unannounced and made a scene in front ofGail.”“Gail?”“Mrs. Jones.”“What do you mean, ‘made a scene’?”He glares at me, appraising.“Tell me. You’re keeping something back.” My tone ismore forceful than I feel.He blinks at me, surprised. “Ana, I—” he stops.“Please?”He sighs in defeat. “She made a haphazard attempt toopen a vein.”“Oh no!” That explains the bandage on her wrist.“Gail got her to hospital. But Leila discharged herself“Gail got her to hospital. But Leila discharged herselfbefore I could get there.”Crap. What does this mean? Suicidal? Why?“The shrink who saw her called it a typical cry for help.He didn’t believe her to be truly at risk—one step fromsuicidal ideation, he called it. But I’m not convinced. I’vebeen trying to track her down since then to get her somehelp.”“Did she say anything to Mrs. Jones?”He gazes at me. He looks really uncomfortable.“Not much,” he says eventually, but I know he’s nottelling me everything.I distract myself with pouring tea into teacups. So Leilawants back into Christian’s life and chooses a suicideattempt to attract his attention? Whoa . . . scary. Buteffective. Christian left Georgia to be at her side, but shedisappears before he gets there? How odd.“You can’t find her? What about her family?”“They don’t know where she is. Neither does herhusband.”husband.”“Husband?”“Yes,” he says distractedly, “she’s been married forabout two years.”What? “So she was with you while she was married?”Holy fuck. He really has no boundaries.“No! Good God, no. She was with me nearly threeyears ago. Then she left and married this guy shortlyafterward.”