My beautiful brave girl.
My face is wet. My vision is blurred. But I feel my way to her and pull her into my arms, my hands in her hair. I turn her face up to mine and claim her lips. Feeling her. Consuming her. Needing her. “Oh, Ana,” I whisper in veneration as I worship her mouth. I pull her down onto the floor and she cups my face and I don’t know if the wet is from her tears or mine.
“Christian, please don’t cry. I meant it when I said I’d never leave you. I did. If I gave you any other impression, I’m so sorry. Please, please forgive me. I love you. I will always love you.”
I look down at her, trying to accept what she’s just said.
She says she loves me, that she will always love me.
But she doesn’t know me.
She doesn’t know the monster.
The monster is not worthy of her love.
“What is it?” she says. “What is this secret that makes you think I’ll run for the hills? That makes you so determined to believe I’ll go? Tell me, Christian, please?”
She has a right to know. As long as we are together, this will always be an obstacle between us. She deserves the truth. Against my better judgment, I have to tell her.
I sit up and cross my legs and she sits up, too, staring at me. Her eyes are round and fearful, reflecting my feelings exactly.
“Ana.” I pause and take a deep breath.
Tell her, Grey.
Get it out. Then you’ll know.
“I’m a sadist, Ana. I like to whip little brown-haired girls like you because you all look like the crack whore—my birth mother. I’m sure you can guess why.” The words tumble out of my mouth in a rush like they’ve been ready and waiting for days.
She remains impassive. Still. Quiet.
Please, Ana.
Finally, she speaks, and her voice is a frail whisper. “You said you weren’t a sadist.”
“No, I said I was a Dominant. If I lied to you, it was a lie of omission. I’m sorry.” I can’t look at her. I’m ashamed. I stare down at my fingers. Like she does. But she remains mute, so I’m forced to look at her. “When you asked me that question, I had envisioned a very different relationship between us,” I add.
It’s the truth.
Ana’s eyes widen, and suddenly she covers her face with her hands. She can’t bear to look at me.
“So it’s true,” she whispers, and when she removes her hands, her face is alabaster. “I can’t give you what you need.”
What? “No. No. No. Ana. No. You can. You do give me what I need. Please believe me.”
“I don’t know what to believe, Christian. This is so fucked up.” Her voice is choked with emotion.
“Ana, believe me. After I punished you and you left me, my worldview changed. I wasn’t joking when I said I would avoid ever feeling like that again. When you said you loved me, it was a revelation. No one’s ever said it to me before, and it was as if I’d laid something to rest—or maybe you’d laid it to rest, I don’t know. Dr. Flynn and I are still in deep discussion about it.”
“What does that all mean?”
“It means I don’t need it. Not now.”
“How do you know? How can you be so sure?”
“I just know. The thought of hurting you in any real way, it’s abhorrent to me.”
“I don’t understand. What about rulers and spanking and all that kinky fuckery?”
“I’m talking about the heavy shit, Anastasia. You should see what I can do with a cane or a cat.”
“I’d rather not.”
“I know. If you wanted to do that, then fine, but you don’t and I get it. I can’t do all that shit with you if you don’t want to. I told you once before, you have all the power. And now, since you came back, I don’t feel that compulsion at all.”
“When we met, that’s what you wanted, though?”
“Yes, undoubtedly.”
“How can your compulsion just go, Christian? Like I’m some kind of panacea, and you’re—for want of a better word—cured? I don’t get it.”
“I wouldn’t say ‘cured.’ You don’t believe me?”
“I just find it—unbelievable. Which is different.”
“If you’d never left me, then I probably wouldn’t feel this way. Your walking out on me was the best thing you ever did for us. It made me realize how much I want you, just you, and I mean it when I say I’ll take you any way I can have you.”
She stares at me. Impassive? Confused? I don’t know.
“You’re still here. I thought you would be out of the door by now.”
“Why? Because I might think you’re a sicko for whipping and fucking women who look like your mother? Whatever would give you that impression?” she snaps.
Fuck.
Ana has her claws out, and she’s sinking them into me.
But I deserve it. “Well, I wouldn’t have put it quite like that, but yes.”
She’s angry, maybe? Hurt, possibly? She knows my secret. My dark, dark secret. And now I await her verdict.
Love me.
Or leave me.
She closes her eyes. “Christian, I’m exhausted. Can we discuss this tomorrow? I want to go to bed.”
“You’re not going?” I can’t believe it.
“Do you want me to go?”
“No! I thought you would leave once you knew.”
Her expression is softer, but she still looks confounded.
Please don’t go, Ana.
Life will be unbearable if you go.
“Don’t leave me,” I whisper.
“Oh, for crying out loud—no!” she shouts, startling me. “I am not going to go!”
“Really?” Unbelievable. She astonishes me, even now.
“What can I do to make you understand I will not run? What can I say?” She’s exasperated.
And to my surprise an idea springs to mind. An idea so wild and out of my comfort zone that I wonder where it came from. I swallow. “There is one thing you can do.”
“What?” she snaps.
“Marry me.”
Her mouth drops open, and she gapes at me.
Marriage, Grey? Have you taken leave of your senses?
Why would she want to marry you?
She’s stunned but then her lips part and she giggles. She bites her lip—I think it’s to try and stop herself. But she fails. She flops down on the floor and her giggling turns to peals of laughter that echo through my living room.
This is not the reaction I was expecting.
Her laughter becomes hysterical. She drapes her hand across her face and I think she might be sobbing.
I don’t know what to do.
Gently I lift her arm off her face and wipe her tears with the back of my knuckles. I try for something light. “You find my proposal amusing, Miss Steele?”
She sniffles and, reaching up, caresses my cheek.
Again, not what I expected.
“Mr. Grey,” she whispers. “Christian. Your sense of timing is without doubt…” She stops, her eyes searching mine as if I’m a crazy fool. And maybe I am, but I need to know her answer.
“You’re cutting me to the quick here, Ana. Will you marry me?”
Slowly she sits up and places her hands on my knees. “Christian, I’ve met your psycho ex with a gun, been thrown out of my apartment, had you go thermonuclear Fifty on me—”
Fifty?
I open my mouth to plead my case, but she holds up her hand to stop me, so I remain mute.