Fifty Shades of Grey

"Acceptable?" I whisper.

"Yes." He stares intently at me. "She distracted me from the destructive path I found myself following. It's very hard to grow up in a perfect family when you're not perfect."

Oh no. My mouth dries as I digest his words. He gazes as me, his expression unfathomable. He's not going to tell me any more. How frustrating. Inside, I'm reeling - he sounds so full of self-loathing. And Mrs. Robinson loved him. Holy shit... does she still?

I feel like I've been kicked in the stomach.

"Does she still love you?"

"I don't think so, not like that." He frowns as if he hasn't thought about the idea. "I keep telling you it was a long time ago. It's in the past. I couldn't change it even if I wanted to, which I don't. She saved me from myself." He's exasperated and runs a wet hand through his hair. "I've never discussed this with anyone." He pauses, "Except Dr.

Flynn, of course. And the only reason I'm talking about this now, to you, is because I want you to trust me."

"I do trust you, but I do want to know you better, and whenever I try to talk to you, you distract me. There's so much I want to know."

"Oh for pity's sake, Anastasia. What do you want to knowWhat do I have to do?" His eyes blaze, and though he doesn't raise his voice, I know he's trying to rein in his temper.

I glance quickly down at my hands, clear beneath the water as the bubbles have started to disperse.

"I'm just trying to understand, you're such an enigma. Unlike anyone I've met before.

I'm glad you're telling me what I want to know."

Jeez - maybe it's the Cosmopolitans making me brave, but suddenly I cannot bear the distance between us. I move through the water to his side and lean against him so we're touching, skin to skin. He tenses and eyes me warily, as if I might bite. Well, that's a turnaround. My inner goddess gazes at him in quiet, surprised speculation.

"Please don't be angry with me," I whisper.

"I am not angry with you, Anastasia. I'm just not used to this kind of talking - this probing. I only have this with Dr. Flynn and with - " He stops and frowns.

"With her. Mrs. Robinson. You talk to her?" I prompt, trying to rein in my own temper.

"Yes, I do."

"What about?"

He shifts in the bath so that he's facing me, causing the water to lap over the sides onto the floor. He places his arm around my shoulders, resting on the ledge of the bath.

"Persistent aren't you?" he murmurs, a trace of irritation in his voice. "Life, the universe - business. Anastasia, Mrs. R and I go way back. We can discuss anything."

"Me?" I whisper.

"Yes." Gray eyes watch me carefully.

I bite my bottom lip, trying to curb the sudden rush of anger that surfaces.

"Why do you talk about me?" I endeavor not to sound whiney and petulant, but I don't succeed. I know I should stop. I am pushing him too hard. My subconscious has her Edvard Munch face on again.

"I've never met anyone like you, Anastasia."

"What does that meanAnyone who just didn't automatically sign your paperwork, no questions asked?"

He shakes his head.

"I need advice."

"And you take advice from Mrs. Paedo?" I snap. The hold on my temper is more tentative than I thought.

"Anastasia - enough," he snaps back sternly, his eyes narrowing.

I'm skating on thin ice, and I'm heading into danger. "Or I'll put you across my knee.

I have no sexual or romantic interest in her whatsoever. She's a dear, valued friend and a business partner. That's all. We have a past, a shared history, which was monumentally beneficial for me, though it f*cked up her marriage - but that side of our relationship is over."

Jeez - another part I just can't understand. She was married as well. How did they get away with it for so long?

"And your parents never found out?"

"No," he growls. "I've told you this."

And I know that's it. I cannot ask him any further questions about her because he will lose it with me.

"Are you done?" he snaps.

"For now."

He takes a deep breath and visibly relaxes in front of me, like a great weight is lifted from his shoulders or something.

"Right - my turn," he mutters, and his glare turns steely, speculative. "You haven't responded to my email."

I flush. Oh, I hate the spotlight on me, and it seems he's going to get angry every time we have a discussion. I shake my head. Perhaps that's how he feels about my questions, he's not used to being challenged. The thought is revelatory, distracting, and unnerving.

"I was going to respond. But now you're here."

"You'd rather I wasn't?" he breathes, his expression impassive again.

"No, I'm pleased," I murmur.

"Good." He gives me a genuine, relieved smile. "I'm pleased I'm here too - in spite of your interrogation. So, while it's acceptable to grill me, you think you can claim some kind of diplomatic immunity just because I've flown all this way to see youI'm not buying it, Miss Steele. I want to know how you feel."

Oh no...

"I told you. I am pleased you're here. Thank you for coming all this way," I say feebly.

"It's my pleasure, Miss Steele." His eyes shine as he leans down and kisses me gently.

I feel myself responding automatically. The water is still warm, the bathroom still steamy.

He stops and pulls back, gazing down at me.

"No. I think I want some answers first before we do any more."

More There's that word again. And he wants answers... answers to whatI don't have a secret past - I don't have a harrowing childhood. What could he possibly want to know about me that he doesn't already know?

I sigh, resigned.

"What do you want to know?"

"Well, how you feel about our would-be arrangement, for starters."

I blink at him. Truth or dare time - my subconscious and inner goddess glance nervously at one another. Hell, let's go for truth.

"I don't think I can do it for an extended period of time. A whole weekend being someone I'm not." I flush and stare at my hands.

He tips my chin up, and he's smirking at me, amused.

"No, I don't think you could either."

And part of me feels slightly affronted and challenged.

"Are you laughing at me?"

"Yes, but in a good way," he says with a small smile.

He leans down and kisses me softly, briefly.

"You're not a great submissive," he breathes as he holds my chin, his eyes dancing with humor.

I stare at him shocked, then I burst out laughing - and he joins me.

"Maybe I don't have a good teacher."

He snorts.

"Maybe. Perhaps I should be stricter with you." He cocks his head to one side and gives me an artful smile.

I swallow. Jeez, no. But at the same time, my muscles clench deliciously deep inside.

It is his way of showing that he cares. Perhaps the only way he can show he cares - I realize that. He's staring at me, gauging my reaction.

"Was it that bad when I spanked you the first time?"

I gaze back at him, blinking. Was it that bad I remember feeling confused by my reaction. It hurt, but not that much in retrospect. He's said over and over again it's more in my head. And the second time... Well, that was good... hot.

"No, not really," I whisper.

"It's more the idea of it?" he prompts.

"I suppose. Feeling pleasure, when one isn't supposed to."

"I remember feeling the same. Takes a while to get your head around it."

Holy hell. This was when he was a kid.

"You can always safe-word, Anastasia. Don't forget that. And, as long as you follow the rules, which fulfill a deep need in me for control and to keep you safe, then perhaps we can find a way forward."

"Why do you need to control me?"

"Because it satisfies a need in me that wasn't met in my formative years."

"So it's a form of therapy?"

"I've not thought of it like that, but yes, I suppose it is."

This I can understand. This will help.

"But, here's the thing - one moment you say don't defy me, the next you say you like to be challenged. That's a very fine line to tread successfully."

He gazes at me for a moment, then frowns.

"I can see that. But you seem to be doing fine so far."

"But at what personal costI'm tied up in knots here."

"I like you tied up in knots," he smirks.

"That's not what I meant!" I splash him in exasperation.

He gazes down at me, arching an eyebrow.

"Did you just splash me?"

"Yes." Holy shit... that look.

"Oh, Miss Steele." He grabs me and pulls me onto his lap, sloshing water all over the floor. "I think we've done enough talking for now."

He clasps his hands on either side of my head and kisses me. Deeply. Possessing my mouth. Angling my head... controlling me. I moan against his lips. This is what he likes. This is what he's so good at. Everything ignites inside me and my fingers are in his hair, holding him to me, and I'm kissing him back and saying I want you too the only way I know how. He groans, shifting me so I'm astride him, kneeling over him, his erection beneath me. He pulls back and looks at me, his eyes hooded, glowing and lustful. I drop my hands to grab on to the edge of the bath but he grips both my wrists and pulls my hands behind my back, holding them together in one hand.

"I'm going to have you now," he whispers and lifts me so that I'm hovering over him.

"Ready?" he breathes.

"Yes," I whisper, and he eases me on to him, slowly, exquisitely slowly... filling me...

watching me as he takes me.