“Did you burn this deliberately?”
Her flush and the twitch of her lips as she masks her smile are answer enough.
Those were pleasurable and simpler times. My previous relationships were dictated by a set of rules that were followed, and if they weren’t, there were consequences. I had peace. And I knew what was expected of me. They were intimate relationships, but none of my previous submissives thrilled me as Ana does, even though she’s so difficult.
Maybe it’s because she’s so difficult.
I remember our contract negotiation. She was difficult then.
Yes. Look how that turned out, Grey.
She’s had me on my toes since I met her. Is this why I like her so much? How long will I feel this way? Probably as long as she stays. Because deep down I know she’ll leave me eventually.
They all do.
Music starts blaring from the living room. “Crazy in Love” by Beyoncé. Is Ana sending me a message?
I stand in the corridor that leads to my study and the TV room and watch her cook. She’s whisking some eggs, but she stops suddenly, and from what I can see, she’s grinning like a fool.
I creep up behind her and slip my arms around her, startling her. “Interesting choice of music,” I croon in her ear and plant a kiss behind it. “Your hair smells good.” She shimmies out of my arms.
“I’m still mad at you,” she says.
“How long are you going to keep this up?” I ask, and rake my hand through my hair in frustration.
“At least until I’ve eaten.” Her tone is haughty but playful.
Good.
Picking up the remote, I switch off the music. “Did you put that on your iPod?” Ana asks.
I shake my head. I don’t want to say it was Leila, because she might get mad again.
“Don’t you think she was trying to tell you something back then?” she says, guessing correctly that it was Leila.
“Well, with hindsight, probably,” I reply. Why didn’t I see this coming?
Ana asks why it’s still on my iPod, and I offer to remove it.
“What would you like to hear?”
“Surprise me,” she says, and it’s a challenge.
Very well, Miss Steele. Your wish is my command. I scroll through the iPod, dismissing several tunes. I consider “Please Forgive Me” by David Gray, but that’s too obvious and frankly too apologetic.
I know. What did she call it earlier? Sexpertise? Yes.
Use it. Seduce her, Grey.
I’ve had enough of her crankiness. I find the song I want, hit play. Perfect. The orchestra swells and music fills the room with a cool, sultry intro, and then Nina Simone sings. “I put a spell on you.”
Ana whirls around, armed with a whisk, and I catch and hold her gaze as I move toward her.
“You’re mine,” Nina sings.
You’re mine.
“Christian, please,” Ana whispers when I reach her.
“Please what?”
“Don’t do this.”
“Do what?”
“This.” She’s breathless.
“Are you sure?” I take the whisk out of her hand before she decides to use it as a weapon.
Ana. Ana. Ana.
I’m close enough to smell her. I shut my eyes and take a deep breath. When I open them, the telltale flush of desire stains her cheeks.
And it’s there between us.
That familiar pull.
Our intense attraction.
“I want you, Anastasia,” I whisper. “I love and I hate, and I love arguing with you. It’s very new. I need to know that we’re okay. It’s the only way I know how.”
She closes her eyes. “My feelings for you haven’t changed,” she says, her voice low and reassuring.
Prove it.
Her eyelashes flutter and her eyes flit to the exposed skin above my shirt and she bites her lip. I suppress my groan as the heat radiating from her body warms us both.
“I’m not going to touch you until you say yes.” My voice is thick with my hunger. “But right now, after a really shitty morning, I want to bury myself in you and just forget everything but us.”
Her eyes meet mine. “I’m going to touch your face,” she says, surprising me.
Okay. I ignore the frisson that runs down my spine. Her hand caresses my cheek and I close my eyes, enjoying the feel of her fingertips teasing my stubble.
Oh, baby.
No need for fear, Grey.
Instinctively, I press my face into her touch, experiencing it, luxuriating in it. I lean down, my lips close to hers, and she raises her face to mine.
“Yes or no, Anastasia?”
“Yes.” The word is no more than an audible sigh.
And I lower my mouth to hers, my lips brushing hers, coaxing her. Tasting her. Teasing her until she opens up for me. I embrace her, one hand on her behind pushing her against my arousal and my other hand running up her back, into her soft hair, where I tug gently. She moans as her tongue meets mine.
“Mr. Grey.” We’re interrupted.
Christ.
I release Ana.
“Taylor,” I acknowledge through gritted teeth as he stands on the threshold of the living room, looking suitably embarrassed but resolute.
What. The. Fuck.
We have an understanding that he makes himself scarce when I’m not alone in the apartment. Whatever he has to say must be important. “My study,” I indicate, and Taylor walks briskly across the room. “Rain check,” I whisper to Ana and follow Taylor out.
“I’m sorry to interrupt you, sir,” he says when we’re in my office.
“You’d better have a good reason.”
“Well, your mother called.”
“Please don’t tell me that’s the reason.”
“No, sir. But you should call her back sooner rather than later. It’s about this evening.”
“Okay. What else?”
“The security team is here, and, knowing how you feel about guns, I thought I should inform you that they’re armed.”
“What?”
“Mr. Welch and I both think it’s a precautionary measure.”
“I loathe guns. Let’s hope they don’t have to use them.” I sound pissed—and I am—I was making out with Anastasia Steele.
When have I ever been interrupted while making out?
Never.
The thought suddenly amuses me.
I’m living the adolescence I never had.
Taylor relaxes, and I know it’s because my mood has changed.
“Did you know Andrea was getting married today?” I ask him, because this has been bugging me since this morning.
“Yes,” he answers with a puzzled expression.
“She didn’t tell me.”
“Probably just an oversight, sir.”
Now I know he’s patronizing me. I raise an eyebrow.
“The wedding is at The Edgewater,” he says quickly.
“Is she staying there?”
“I believe so.”
“Can you discreetly inquire if the happy couple has a room there and get them upgraded to the best suite available? And pay for it.”
Taylor smiles. “Certainly, sir.”
“Who’s the lucky guy?”
“That I don’t know, Mr. Grey.”
I wonder why Andrea has been so mysterious about her wedding. I brush aside the thought as the aroma of something delicious filters into the room and my stomach growls in anticipation.
“I’d better get back to Anastasia.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Was that all?”
“Yes.”