I grin like a fool, feeling…cherished. When I raise my head to look at her she’s peeking at me through the towel, and she grins, too. “It’s a long time since anyone did this to me. A very long time,” I tell her. “In fact, I don’t think anyone’s ever dried my hair.”
“Surely Grace did? Dried your hair when you were young?”
I shake my head. “No. She respected my boundaries from day one, even though it was painful for her. I was very self-sufficient as a child.”
Ana stills for a moment and I wonder what she’s thinking. “Well, I’m honored,” she says.
“That you are, Miss Steele. Or maybe it is I who am honored.”
“That goes without saying, Mr. Grey.”
She tosses the damp towel onto the vanity unit in front of us and reaches for a new one. As she stands behind me our eyes meet once more in the large mirror.
“Can I try something?” she asks.
We’re doing this your way, baby.
I nod, giving her permission, and she runs the towel down my left arm, removing all the drops of water that cling to my skin. She looks up, watching me intently, and leans forward, and kisses my biceps.
My breathing stalls.
She dries my other arm and leaves a trail of feather-light kisses over my right biceps. Dodging behind me so I can no longer see what she’s doing. She wipes my back, respecting the lipstick lines.
“Whole back,” I offer, feeling brave, “with the towel.” I take a deep breath and shut my eyes.
Ana does as she’s told and briskly dries my back. When she finishes she gives me a swift kiss on my shoulder.
I exhale. That wasn’t so bad.
She puts her arms around me and dries my belly.
“Hold this,” she says, and hands me a face towel. “Remember in Georgia? You made me touch myself using your hands,” she explains. She wraps her arms around me and stares at me in the mirror. With the towel draped over her head, she looks like a biblical character.
The Virgin.
She’s soft enough and sweet enough, but a virgin no more.
Grasping my hand that holds the face towel, she guides it across my chest, drying a spot. As soon as the towel touches me, I freeze. My mind empties and I will my body to endure this touch. I stand tense before her, unmoving. We’re doing this her way. I start to pant with a strange mixture of fear, love, and fascination, and my eyes follow her fingers as she gently guides my hand, and wipes my chest dry.
“I think you’re dry now,” she says, and drops her hand.
In the mirror’s reflection we fix our eyes on each other.
I want her. I need her. I tell her.
“I need you, too,” she says, her eyes darkening.
“Let me love you.”
“Yes,” she replies, and I scoop her up in my arms, my lips on hers, and carry her into the bedroom. I lay her down on the bed, and with infinite care and tenderness I show her how much I honor her, cherish her, and treasure her.
And love her.
I AM A NEW being. A new Christian Grey. I am in love with Anastasia Steele, and what’s more, she loves me. Of course, the girl needs to have her head examined, but right now I’m grateful, spent, and happy.
I lie beside her, imagining a world of possibility. Ana’s skin is soft and warm. I cannot stop touching her while we gaze at each other in the calm after the storm.
“So, you can be gentle.” Her eyes are alight with amusement.
Only with you.
“Hmm. So it would seem, Miss Steele.”
She grins, showing perfect white teeth. “You weren’t particularly the first time we, um, did this.”
“No?” I take a strand of her hair and wind it around my index finger. “When I robbed you of your virtue.”
“I don’t think you robbed me. I think my virtue was offered up pretty freely and willingly. I wanted you, too, and if I remember correctly, I rather enjoyed myself.” Her smile is shy but warm.
“So did I, if I recall, Miss Steele. We aim to please. And it means you’re mine, completely.”
“Yes, I am. I wanted to ask you something.”
“Go ahead.”
“Your biological father, do you know who he was?”
Her question is completely unexpected. I shake my head. She surprises me again. I never know what’s going on in that smart brain of hers. “I have no idea. Wasn’t the savage who was her pimp, which is good.”
“How do you know?”
“Something my dad—something Carrick said to me.”
Her look is expectant, urging me on. “So hungry for information, Anastasia.” I sigh and shake my head. I don’t like thinking about this time in my life. It’s difficult to separate the memories from the nightmares. But she’s persistent. “The pimp discovered the crack whore’s body and phoned it in to the authorities. Took him four days to make the discovery, though. He shut the door when he left. Left me with her. Her body.”
Mommy is asleep on the floor.
She has been asleep for a long time.
She doesn’t wake up.
I call her. I shake her.
She doesn’t wake up.
I shudder and continue. “Police interviewed him later. He denied flat-out I had anything to do with him, and Carrick said he looked nothing like me.”
Thank God.
“Do you remember what he looked like?”
“Anastasia, this isn’t a part of my life I revisit very often. Yes, I remember what he looked like. I’ll never forget him.” Bile rises in my throat. “Can we talk about something else?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“It’s old news, Ana. Not something I want to think about.”
She looks guilty and, knowing she’s gone too far with these questions, changes the subject. “So, what’s this surprise, then?”
Ah. She remembered. Now, this I can deal with. “Can you face going out for some fresh air? I want to show you something.”
“Of course.”
Great! I swat her behind. “Get dressed. Jeans will be good. I hope Taylor’s packed some for you.”
I leap out of bed, excited to take Ana sailing, and she watches me pull on my underwear.
“Up,” I nag, and she grins.
“Just admiring the view,” she says.
“Dry your hair,” I tell her.
“Domineering as ever,” she observes, and I bend down to kiss her.
“That’s never going to change, baby. I don’t want you sick.”
She rolls her eyes.
“My palms still twitch, you know, Miss Steele.”
“I am glad to hear it, Mr. Grey. I was beginning to think you were losing your edge.”
Oh. Mixed signals from Miss Steele.
Don’t tempt me, Ana. “I could easily demonstrate that is not the case, should you so wish.” I grab a sweater from my bag, fetch my phone, and pack the rest of my belongings.
Once I’m done, I find Ana dressed and drying her hair.
“Pack your things. If it’s safe, we’ll go home tonight; if not, we can stay again.”
ANA AND I STEP into the elevator. An elderly couple moves aside for us. Ana looks up at me and smirks. I squeeze her hand and grin, remembering that kiss.
Oh, fuck the paperwork.
“I’ll never let you forget that,” she says so only I can hear. “Our first kiss.”
I’m tempted to do a repeat performance and scandalize the elderly couple, but I settle for a discreet peck on her cheek that makes her giggle.
We check out at reception and walk hand in hand through the foyer to the valet.