ANDREA PARKER

Realtor can see you this evening.

8:30 p.m.

Is that okay?

Her name is Olga Kelly.

Great!

Thanks.

Please text me the address.

I WONDER WHAT ANA will make of the house. Andrea sends me the address and the access code to the front gates. I memorize the code and find the house on Google Maps. While I’m working out a route from Flynn’s place to the house, my phone rings. It’s Ros. I stare out of the balcony window as she gives me some good news.

“Fred has come back to me. Kavanagh is a go,” she says.

“Ros, that’s great.”

“He has a few technical issues that he wants his people to discuss with our people. He’d like a meeting tomorrow morning. Breakfast. I’ve told Andrea.”

“Tell Barney and we’ll go from there,” I respond, and I turn away from the view of Seattle and the Sound to find Ana watching me.

“Will do. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Good-bye.” I hang up and stride over to meet my girl, who looks sweet and shy as she stands on the threshold of the living room. “Good evening, Miss Steele.” I kiss her and hold her close. “Congratulations on your promotion.”

“You’ve showered.”

“I’ve just had a workout with Claude.”

“Oh.”

“Managed to knock him on his ass twice.” It’s a memory to be savored.

“That doesn’t happen often?”

“No. Very satisfying when it does. Hungry?”

She shakes her head and seems worried.

“What?” I ask.

“I’m nervous. About Dr. Flynn.”

“Me, too. How was your day?” I release her.

“Great. Busy. I couldn’t believe it when Elizabeth, our HR person, asked me to fill in. I had to go to the senior editors’ lunch meeting and I managed to get two of the manuscripts I was championing considered.”

She doesn’t stop. She’s excited. Her eyes are shining; she’s passionate about what she’s been doing. It’s a pleasure to behold.

“Oh—there’s one more thing I should tell you. I was supposed to have lunch with Mia.”

“You never mentioned that.”

“I know, I forgot. I couldn’t make it because of the meeting, and Ethan took her out to lunch instead.”

The beach bum, with my sister. I’m not sure how I feel about that. “I see. Stop biting your lip.”

“I’m going to freshen up,” she says quickly, before I can ask her any more about Kavanagh and my baby sister.

I’ve never really thought about my sister dating. There was that guy at the ball, but she didn’t seem particularly interested in him.

“I USUALLY RUN HERE from home,” I mention, as I park the Saab. “This is a great car.”

“I think so, too. Christian…I—”

My gut tightens.

“What is it, Ana?”

“Here.” From her purse she hands me a small dark box wrapped in a ribbon. “This is for you for your birthday. I wanted to give it to you now—but only if you promise not to open it until Saturday, okay?”

I swallow to contain my relief. “Okay.”

She takes a deep, nervous breath. Why is she anxious about this? I shake it. It sounds small and plastic. What the hell has she given me?

I look up at her.

Whatever it is, I’m sure I’m going to love it. I give her a broad smile.

My birthday is on Saturday. She will be here on that day—or so this gift implies. Doesn’t it?

“You can’t open it until Saturday,” she says, waving a finger at me.

“I get it. Why are you giving this to me now?” I place it in my inside pocket.

“Because I can, Mr. Grey.”

“Why, Miss Steele, you stole my line.”

“I did. Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

FLYNN STANDS AS WE enter his office. “Christian.”

“John.” We shake hands. “You remember Anastasia?”

“How could I forget? Anastasia, welcome.”

“Ana, please,” she says, as they shake hands. He directs us toward his sofas.

I wait for Ana to sit down, admiring the fit of the navy dress she’s changed into, and I take the other sofa but sit close to her. Flynn takes his usual chair. I place my hand on Ana’s and give her hand a squeeze.

“Christian has requested that you accompany him to one of our sessions,” Flynn says. “Just so you know, we treat these sessions with absolute confidentiality—”

He stops when Ana interrupts. “Oh—um, I’ve signed an NDA,” she says quickly.

Shit.

I release her hand.

“A nondisclosure agreement?” Flynn gives me a puzzled look.

I shrug but say nothing.

“You start all your relationships with women with an NDA?” he asks me.

“The contractual ones, I do.”

Flynn stifles a smile. “You’ve had other types of relationships with women?”

Shit.

“No,” I respond, amused by his reaction. He knows this.

“As I thought.” Flynn turns his attention back to Ana. “Well, I guess we don’t have to worry about confidentiality, but may I suggest that the two of you discuss this at some point? As I understand, you’re no longer entering into that kind of contractual relationship.”

“Different kind of contract, hopefully,” I say, with a look at Ana.

She blushes.

“Ana. You’ll have to forgive me, but I probably know a lot more about you than you think. Christian has been very forthcoming.”

She glances at me.

“An NDA? That must have shocked you,” Flynn continues.

“Oh, I think the shock of that has paled into insignificance, given Christian’s most recent revelations,” she says, and her voice is low and husky.

I shift in my seat.

“I’m sure. So, Christian, what would you like to discuss?”

I shrug. “Anastasia wanted to see you. Perhaps you should ask her.”

But Ana is staring at a box of tissues on the coffee table in front of her.

“Would you be more comfortable if Christian left us for a while?” Flynn asks her.

What?

Ana’s eyes dart to me. “Yes,” she says.

Fuck.

But?

Shit.

I stand up. “I’ll be in the waiting room.”

“Thank you, Christian,” Flynn says. I give Ana a long look, trying to tell her I’m ready for this commitment that I want to make to her. Then I stalk out of the room, closing the door behind me.

Flynn’s receptionist Janet looks up, but I ignore her and wander into the waiting room, where I flop into one of the leather armchairs.

What will they discuss?

You, Grey. You.

Closing my eyes, I lean back and try to relax.

Blood thrums through my ears, a thump, thump, thump that’s impossible to ignore.

Find your happy place, Grey.

I’m in the orchard with Elliot. We’re kids. We’re running through the trees. Laughing. Picking apples. Eating apples. Grandpa is watching us. Laughing too.

We’re in a kayak with Mom. Dad and Mia are ahead of us. We’re racing Dad.

Elliot and I are paddling with all our twelve-year-old fury. Mom is laughing. Mia splashes us with her paddle.

“Fuck! Elliot!” We’re on a Hobie Cat. He has the tiller and we’re flying the hull, tearing downwind across Lake Washington. Elliot whoops with joy as we trapeze over the side of the hull. We’re wet. Exhilarated. And fighting the wind.

I’m making love to Ana. Breathing in her scent. Kissing her throat, her breast.

My body responds.

Fuck. No. I open my eyes and stare at the utilitarian brass chandelier on the white ceiling, and shift in my seat.

What are they talking about?

I get up and start pacing. But I sit down again and leaf through one of the National Geographic magazines, the only publication that Flynn offers in his waiting room.

I can’t concentrate on any of the articles.

Nice photographs, though.

I can’t bear this. I pace once more. Then sit down and check the address of the house that we’re going to visit. And if Ana doesn’t like what she hears from Flynn and doesn’t want to see me again? I’ll just have to get Andrea to cancel.

I get up, and before I know what I’m doing I’m outside, walking away from the conversation. The conversation about me.

I WALK THREE TIMES around the block and return to Flynn’s office. Janet says nothing as I stride past her, knock on the door, and enter.

Flynn gives me a benevolent smile. “Welcome back, Christian,” he says.

“I think time is up, John.”

“Nearly, Christian. Join us.”

I sit down beside Ana and place my hand on her knee. She gives nothing away, and that’s frustrating, but she doesn’t pull her knee out of my reach.

“Did you have any other questions, Ana?”

She shakes her head.

“Christian?”

“Not today, John.”

“It may be beneficial if you both come again. I’m sure Ana will have more questions.”

If that’s what she wants. If that’s what it takes. I clasp her hand and her eyes meet mine.

“Okay?” I ask gently.

She nods and gives me a reassuring smile. I hope the squeeze I give her hand lets her know how relieved I am. I turn to Flynn.

“How is she?” I ask him, and he knows I’m referring to Leila.

“She’ll get there,” he says.

“Good. Keep me updated as to her progress.”

“I will.”

I turn to Ana. “Should we go and celebrate your promotion?”

Her shy nod is a relief.

WITH MY HAND ON the small of her back, I escort Ana out of the office. I’m anxious to hear what was discussed. I need to know if he put her off.

“How was that?” I ask, aiming for nonchalance, as we walk out onto the street.

“It was good.”

And? I’m dying here, Ana.

She looks at me and I have no idea what she’s thinking. It’s unnerving, and annoying. I scowl.

“Mr. Grey. Please don’t look at me that way. Under doctor’s orders I am going to give you the benefit of the doubt.”

“What does that mean?”

“You’ll see.”

Will she marry me or not? Her winsome smile doesn’t give me any clues.

Hell. She’s not going to tell me. She’s leaving me hanging. “Get in the car,” I snap, and I open her door.

Her phone rings and she gives me a wary look before answering. “Hi,” she says enthusiastically.

Who is it?

“José,” she mouths at me, answering my unspoken question. “Sorry I haven’t called you. Is it about tomorrow?” she says to him, but without looking away from me. “Well, I’m actually staying with Christian right now, and if you want to, he says you can stay at his place.”

Oh yes. He’s delivering the stunning photographs of Ana, his love letters to her.

Embrace her friends, Grey.

She frowns and turns away, crossing the sidewalk to lean against the building.

Is she okay? I watch her carefully. Waiting.

“Yes. Serious,” she answers, her expression stern.

What’s serious?

“Yes,” she responds, and then she scoffs, indignant, “Of course I am…You could pick me up from work…I’ll text you the address…Six?” She grins. “Cool. I’ll see you then.” She hangs up and walks back toward the car.

“How’s your friend?” I ask.

“He’s well. He’ll pick me up from work, and I think we’ll go for a drink. Would you like to join us?”

“You don’t think he’ll try anything?”

“No!”

“Okay.” I hold my hands up. “You hang out with your friend, and I’ll see you later in the evening. See? I can be reasonable.”

She purses her lips—amused, I think. “Can I drive?”

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

“Why, exactly?”

“Because I don’t like to be driven.”

“You managed this morning, and you seem to tolerate Taylor driving you.”

“I trust Taylor’s driving implicitly.”

“And not mine?” she exclaims, and puts her hands on her hips. “Honestly, your control-freakishness knows no bounds. I’ve been driving since I was fifteen.”

I shrug. I want to drive.

“Is this my car?”

“Of course it’s your car.”

“Then give me the keys, please. I’ve driven it twice, and only to and from work. Now you’re having all the fun.” She folds her arms, standing firm, stubborn as ever.

“But you don’t know where we’re going.”

“I’m sure you can enlighten me, Mr. Grey. You’ve done a great job of it so far.” And just like that she defuses the moment. She’s the most disarming person I’ve ever met. She won’t answer me. She’s left me hanging, and I want to live the rest of my life with her.

“Great job, eh?” I ask through my smile.

She flushes. “Mostly, yes.” And her eyes are alight with amusement.

“Well, in that case.” I hand her the keys and open the driver’s door for her.

I take a deep breath as she pulls into the traffic. “Where are we going?” she asks, and I have to remind myself that she hasn’t lived in Seattle long enough to know her way around.

“Continue along this street.”

“You’re not going to be more specific?” she asks.

I give her a slight smile.

Tit for tat, baby.

She narrows her eyes.

“At the light, turn right,” I say.

She stops rather too suddenly, throwing us both forward, then indicates and moves on.

“Steady. Ana!”

Her mouth sets in a grim line.

“Left here.” Ana puts her foot down and we speed up the street. “Hell! Gently, Ana.” I grab the dashboard. “Slow down!” She’s doing thirty-eight through the neighborhood!

“I am slowing down!” she shouts as she brakes.

I sigh and get to the heart of what I want to talk about, trying and failing to sound casual. “What did Flynn say?”

“I told you. He says I should give you the benefit of the doubt.” Ana signals to pull over.

“What are you doing?”

“Letting you drive.”

“Why?”

“So I can look at you.”

I laugh. “No, no. You wanted to drive. So you drive, and I’ll look at you.”

She turns to say something to me.

“Keep your eyes on the road!” I shout.

She screeches to a halt just before a traffic light, releases her seatbelt, and storms out of the car, slamming the door.

What the hell?

She stands on the sidewalk with arms crossed in what’s both a defensive and combative pose, glaring at me. I scramble out after her. “What are you doing?” I ask, completely thrown.

“No. What are you doing?”

“You can’t park here.” I point to the abandoned Saab.

“I know that.”

“So why have you?”

“Because I’ve had it with you barking orders. Either you drive or you shut up about my driving!”

“Anastasia, get back in the car before we get a ticket.”

“No.”

I run my hands through my hair. What’s got into her?

I look down at her. I’m at a loss. Her expression changes, softening. Damn it, is she laughing at me? “What?” I ask.

“You.”

“Oh, Anastasia! You are the most frustrating female on the planet.” I throw my hands in the air. “Fine. I’ll drive.”

She grabs my jacket and tugs me against her body. “No. You are the most frustrating man on the planet, Mr. Grey.”

She looks up at me with guileless blue eyes that pull me under and I’m drowning and I’m lost. Lost in a different way. I put my arms around her, holding her close. “Maybe we’re meant for each other, then.” She smells amazing. I should bottle this.

Soothing. Sexy. Ana.

She hugs me hard and rests her cheek against my chest.

“Oh. Ana, Ana, Ana.” I kiss her hair and hold her.

It’s weird, embracing in the street.

Another first. No. A second. I held her on the street near Esclava.

She moves and I release her, and without saying a word, I open the passenger door and she gets in the car.

At the wheel, I start the car and pull into the traffic. There’s a Van Morrison song playing over the sound system and I hum along as we head toward the on-ramp for I-5. “You know, if we had gotten a ticket, the title of this car is in your name,” I tell her.

“Well, good thing I’ve been promoted. I can afford the fine.”

And I hide my amusement as we head north on I-5.

“Where are we going?” she asks.

“It’s a surprise. What else did Flynn say?”

“He talked about FFFSTB or something.”

“SFBT. The latest therapy option.”

“You’ve tried others?”

“Baby, I’ve been subjected to them all. Cognitivism, Freud, functionalism, Gestalt, behaviorism. You name it, over the years I’ve done it.”

“Do you think this latest approach will help?”

“What did Flynn say?”

“He said not to dwell on your past. Focus on the future—on where you want to be.”

I nod, but I don’t understand why she hasn’t accepted my proposal.

That’s where I want to be.

Married.

Perhaps he said something to discourage her. “What else?” I ask, trying to get an inkling of what he might have said to dissuade her.

“He talked about your fear of being touched, although he called it something else. And about your nightmares and your self-abhorrence.” I turn to meet her gaze.

“Eyes on the road, Mr. Grey,” she scolds.

“You were talking forever, Anastasia. What else did he say?”

“He doesn’t think you’re a sadist.”

“Really?” Flynn and I have differing views on this. He cannot step into my shoes. He doesn’t really understand.

Ana continues. “He says that that term’s not recognized in psychiatry. Not since the nineties.”

“Flynn and I have differing opinions on this.”

“He said you always think the worst of yourself. I know that’s true. He also mentioned sexual sadism—but he said that was a lifestyle choice, not a psychiatric condition. Maybe that’s what you’re thinking about.”

Ana, you have no idea.

You will never know the depths of my depravity.

“So, one talk with the good doctor and you’re an expert.”

She sighs. “Look, if you don’t want to hear what he said, don’t ask me,” she says.

Fair point, Miss Steele.

Grey. Stop hounding the girl.

She turns her attention to the passing cars.

Damn.

“I want to know what you discussed,” I say in a tone that I hope sounds conciliatory. I leave I-5 and head west on Northwest Eighty-fifth Street.

“He called me your lover.”

“Did he, now? Well, he’s nothing if not fastidious about his terms. I think that’s an accurate description. Don’t you?”

“Did you think of your subs as lovers?”

Lovers? Leila? Susannah? Madison? Each of my submissives comes to mind.

“No. They were sexual partners. You’re my only lover. And I want you to be more.”

“I know. I just need some time, Christian. To get my head around these last few days.”

I look over at her.

Why didn’t she say that earlier?

I can live with that.

Of course I can give her some time.

I’d wait until time stands still, for her.

I RELAX AND ENJOY the drive. We’re in the suburbs of Seattle, but heading west toward the Sound. I think I’ve timed this appointment just right and we’ll catch the sunset over Puget Sound.

“Where are we going?” she asks.

“Surprise.”

She gives me a curious smile and turns to take in our surroundings through the window.

Ten minutes later I spy the corroded white metal gates that I recognize from the photograph I’ve seen online. I pull in at the bottom of an impressive driveway and punch the security code into the keypad. With a creaky groan, the heavy gates swing open.

I glance at Ana.

Will she like this place?

“What is it?” she asks.

“An idea.” I steer the Saab through the gates.

The driveway is longer than I thought. To one side there’s an overgrown meadow. It’s big enough to install a tennis court or basketball court—or both.

“Hey bro, let’s shoot some hoops.”

“Elliot, I’m reading.”

“Reading is not going to get you laid.”

“Fuck off.”

“Hoops. Come on, man,” he whines.

Reluctantly, I abandon my tattered copy of Oliver Twist and follow him out to the yard.

ANA LOOKS STUNNED AS we arrive at the grand entrance portico and I park beside a BMW sedan. The house is sprawling and actually quite imposing from the outside.

I cut the engine, and Ana’s baffled.

“Will you keep an open mind?” I ask.

She arches a brow. “Christian, I’ve needed an open mind since the day I met you.”

And I can’t disagree. She’s right. As ever.

The realtor is waiting inside the large vestibule. “Mr. Grey.” She greets me warmly and we shake hands.

“Miss Kelly.”

“Olga Kelly,” she announces to Ana.

“Ana Steele,” she responds.

The realtor steps aside. The house smells a little musty from what must be months of disuse. But I’m not here to look at the interior. “Come.” I direct Ana and take her hand. Having studied the floor plans at length I know where I want to go and how to get there. I lead her from the vestibule through an archway into an inner hallway, past a grand staircase, and into what was once the main living room.

There are several open French doors on the far side, which is great because the place needs airing. Tightening my hold on Ana’s hand, I take her through the nearest door, onto the terrace outside.

The view is every bit as arresting and dramatic as the photographs suggested: the Sound in all its glory at dusk. Already there are lights twinkling from the distant shores of Bainbridge Island, where we sailed last weekend, and beyond that, the Olympic Peninsula.

There is so much sky and the sunset is astounding.

Ana and I stand hand in hand and stare, enjoying the spectacular view. Her face is radiant. She loves it.

She turns to look at me. “You brought me here to admire the view?”

I nod.

“It’s staggering, Christian. Thank you,” she says, and stares once more at the opal sky.

“How would you like to look at it for the rest of your life?” My heart starts hammering.

This is one hell of a pitch, Grey.

Her face whips to mine. She’s startled.

“I’ve always wanted to live on the coast,” I explain. “I sail up and down the Sound, coveting these houses. This place hasn’t been on the market long. I want to buy it, demolish it, and build a new house—for us.”

Her eyes grow impossibly large.

“It’s just an idea,” I whisper.

She looks over her shoulder into the old living room. “Why do you want to demolish it?” she asks.

“I’d like to make a more sustainable home, using the latest ecological techniques. Elliot could build it.”

“Can we look around the house?”

“Sure.” I shrug. Why does she want to look around?

I follow Ana and the realtor as she gives us the tour. Olga Kelly is in her element as she takes us through the numerous rooms, describing the features of each. Why Ana wants to see the whole house is a mystery to me.

As we file up the sweeping staircase, she turns to me. “Couldn’t you make the existing house more ecological and self-sustaining?”

This house?

“I’d have to ask Elliot. He’s the expert in all this.”

Ana likes this house.

Keeping the house wasn’t what I had in mind.

The realtor takes us into the master suite. It has full-height windows opening onto a balcony that looks out at the spectacular view. We both pause for a moment and stare at the darkening sky, and the last traces of the sun that can still be seen. It’s a glorious vista.

We wander through the rest of the bedrooms; there are many, and the last overlooks the front of the house. The realtor suggests that the meadow might be a suitable place for a paddock and stables.

“The paddock would be where the meadow is now?” Ana asks, looking dubious.

“Yes,” the realtor replies.

Back downstairs, we make our way through to the terrace once more and I rethink my plans. The house wasn’t what I imagined living in, but it looks well built and solid enough and with a comprehensive update, it could serve our needs. I glance at Ana.

Who am I kidding?

Wherever Ana is, that’s my home.

If this is what she wants…

Outside on the terrace, I hold her. “Lot to take in?” I ask.

She nods.

“I wanted to check that you liked it before I bought it.”

“The view?”

I nod.

“I love the view, and I like the house that’s here.”

“You do?”

“Christian, you had me at the meadow,” she says with a shy smile.

This means she’s not leaving.

Surely.

I cup her face, my fingers in her hair, and pour all my gratitude into one kiss.

“THANKS FOR LETTING US look around,” I say to Miss Kelly. “I’ll be in touch.”

“Thank you, Mr. Grey. Ana,” she says, eagerly shaking hands with each of us.

Ana likes it!

My relief is palpable as we climb into the Saab. Olga has switched on the external lights and the driveway is edged with winking lamps. The house is growing on me. It has a sprawling, grand quality to it. I’m sure Elliot can work his magic on the place and make it more ecologically sustainable.

“So, you’re going to buy it?” Ana asks when we’re on our way back to Seattle.

“Yes.”

“You’ll put Escala on the market?”

“Why would I do that?”

“To pay for—” She stops.

“Trust me, I can afford it.”

“Do you like being rich?”

I want to scoff. “Yes. Show me someone who doesn’t.”

She chews her finger.

“Anastasia, you’re going to have to learn to be rich, too, if you say yes.”

“Wealth isn’t something I’ve ever aspired to, Christian.”

“I know. I love that about you. But then again, you’ve never been hungry.”

In the periphery of my vision, I see her turn and look at me, but I can’t make out her expression in the darkness.

“Where are we going?” she asks, and I know she’s changing the subject.

“To celebrate.”

“Celebrate what, the house?”

“Have you forgotten already? Your acting-editor role.”

“Oh yes.”

“Where?”

“Up high at my club.” They’ll still be serving food at this hour, and I’m hungry.

“Your club?”

“Yes. One of them.”

“How many do you belong to?”

“Three.”

Please don’t ask me about them.

“Private gentleman’s clubs? No women allowed?” she teases, and I know she’s laughing at me.

“Women allowed. At all of them.” Especially one. A Dominant’s haven. Though I haven’t been for a while.

She gives me an inquisitive look.

“What?” I ask.

“Nothing,” she says.

I LEAVE THE CAR with the valet and we travel up to The Mile High Club at the top of Columbia Tower. Our table isn’t ready immediately, so we sit at the bar.

“Cristal, ma’am?” I hand Ana a glass of chilled champagne.

“Why, thank you, Sir.” She stresses the last word and bats her eyelashes at me. She moves her legs, drawing my attention to them. Her dress is hiked up, exposing a little more of her thigh.

“Are you flirting with me, Miss Steele?”

“Yes, Mr. Grey, I am. What are you going to do about it?”

Oh, Ana. I love when you throw down the gauntlet.

“I’m sure I can think of something,” I murmur. Carmine, the maître d’, gives me a wave. “Come—our table’s ready.”

I step back and hold out my hand while she gracefully slips off the barstool, and I follow. Her ass looks great in this dress.

Ah. A wicked idea pops into my mind.

Before she sits down at our table, I touch her elbow. “Go and take your panties off,” I whisper in her ear. “Go.” Now.

She inhales quickly, and I remember the last time she went pantyless and how she turned the tables on me then; maybe she will again. She gives me a haughty look, but without saying a word hands me her glass of champagne and saunters to the ladies’ restroom.

While I wait at the table I scan the menu. It reminds me of our dinner in the private room at The Heathman. I summon the waiter and hope that Ana won’t give me a hard time because I’m ordering her meal.

“Can I help you, Mr. Grey?”

“Please. A dozen Kumamotos, to start. And then two orders of the sea bass with hollandaise sauce and sautéed potatoes. And a side of asparagus.”

“Very good, sir. Would you like anything from the wine list?”

“Not right now. We’ll stick to the champagne.”

The waiter scuttles off and Ana appears, a secret smile playing on her lips.

Oh, Ana. She wants to play…but I’m not going to touch her. Yet.

I want to drive her crazy.

Standing, I motion to the seat. “Sit beside me.” She slides in and I join her, mindful not to sit too close. “I’ve ordered for you. I hope you don’t mind.” Careful not to touch her fingers with mine, I give her back her glass of champagne.

She fidgets beside me but takes a sip of the Cristal.

The waiter returns with the oysters on ice. “I think you liked oysters last time you tried them.”

“Only time I’ve tried them.” Her breathing stalls. She’s…eager.

“Oh, Miss Steele—when will you learn?” I tease, taking an oyster from the dish. I lift my hand from my thigh and she leans back in anticipation of my touch, but I reach for some lemon.

“Learn what?” she whispers, as I squeeze lemon juice over the shellfish.

“Eat.” I hold the shell up to her mouth. She parts her lips and I rest the shell on her bottom lip. “Tip your head back slowly.”

With a smoldering look, she does as she’s told and I tip the oyster into her mouth. She closes her eyes in appreciation, and I help myself to one.

“Another?” I ask.

She nods, and this time I add a little mignonette sauce, and still I don’t touch her. She swallows and licks her lips.

“Good?”

She nods.

I eat another, then feed her one more.

“Hmm…” she says, and the sound resonates the length of my cock.

“Still like oysters?” I ask, as she swallows the final one.

She nods again.

“Good.”

I place my hands on my thighs, flexing my fingers, and I’m gratified when she shifts beside me. But as much as I want to, I refrain from touching her. The waiter tops off our champagne and clears our plates. Ana squeezes her thighs together and rubs her hands over them. And I think I hear a frustrated sigh.

Oh, baby. Craving my touch?

The waiter returns with our entrées.

Ana eyes me with suspicious recognition as the food is placed on the table. “A favorite of yours, Mr. Grey?”

“Most definitely, Miss Steele. Though I believe it was cod at The Heathman.”

“I seem to remember we were in a private dining room then, discussing contracts.”

“Happy days. This time I hope to get to fuck you.” I reach for my knife and she fidgets beside me. I take a bite of sea bass.

“Don’t count on it,” she mutters, and I know without looking that she’s pouting.

Oh, playing hard to get, Miss Steele?

“Speaking of contracts,” she continues. “The NDA.”

“Tear it up.”

“What? Really?”

“Yes.”

“You’re sure I’m not going to run to The Seattle Times with an exposé?”

I laugh, knowing how shy she is. “No. I trust you. I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt.”

“Ditto,” she says.

“I’m very glad you’re wearing a dress.”

“Why haven’t you touched me, then?”

“Missing my touch?” I tease.

“Yes,” she exclaims.

“Eat.”

“You’re not going to touch me, are you?”

“No.” I hide my amusement.

She looks outraged.

“Just imagine how you’ll feel when we’re home,” I add. “I can’t wait to get you home.”

“It will be your fault if I combust here on the seventy-sixth floor.” She sounds pissed.

“Oh, Anastasia. We’d find a way to put the fire out.”

She narrows her eyes and takes a bite of her supper. The sea bass is delicious, and I’m hungry. She wriggles in her seat and her dress rides up a little, exposing more of her skin. She takes another bite, then puts down her knife, and runs her hand up the inside of her thigh, her fingertips drumming as she does.

She’s toying with me. “I know what you’re doing.”

“I know that you know, Mr. Grey. That’s the point.” She takes an asparagus stalk between her fingers and, with a sideways glance at me, dips the spear into the hollandaise sauce and swirls it around and around.

“You’re not turning the tables on me, Miss Steele.” I take the asparagus from her. “Open your mouth.”

She opens her mouth and runs her tongue across her bottom lip.

Tempting, Miss Steele. Very tempting.

“Wider,” I command, and she bites her bottom lip but complies, easing the stalk into her mouth and sucking.

Fuck.

It might as well be my cock.

She moans quietly and takes a bite and reaches for me.

I stop her with my other hand. “Oh no you don’t, Miss Steele.” I brush my lips across her knuckles. “Don’t touch,” I scold, and place her hand on her knee.

“You don’t play fair.”

“I know.” I raise my champagne glass. “Congratulations on your promotion, Miss Steele.” We clink glasses.

“Yes, kind of unexpected,” she says, looking a little discouraged. Does she doubt herself? I hope not.

“Eat.” I change the subject. “I am not taking you home until you’ve finished your meal, and then we can really celebrate.”

“I’m not hungry. Not for food.”

Ana. Ana. So easily distracted.

“Eat, or I’ll put you across my knee, right here, and we’ll entertain the other diners.”

She shifts in her seat, making me think a spanking might be welcome, but her pursed lips tell a different story. Picking up an asparagus stalk, I dip the head into the hollandaise. “Eat this,” I tempt her.

She does, keeping her eyes on me.

“You really don’t eat enough. You’ve lost weight since I’ve known you.”

“I just want to go home and make love.”

I grin. “So do I, and we will. Eat up.”

She sighs as if in defeat and starts tucking into her food. I follow her example. “Have you heard from your friend?” I ask.

“Which one?”

“The guy staying in your apartment.”

“Oh, Ethan. Not since he took Mia out for lunch.”

“I’m doing some work with his and Kate’s father.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. Kavanagh seems like a solid guy.”

“He’s always been good to me,” she answers, and my earlier thoughts about a hostile takeover of Kavanagh’s business recede.

She finishes her supper and places her knife and fork on her plate.

“Good girl.”

“What now?” she asks, her expression needy.

“Now? We leave. I believe you have certain expectations, Miss Steele. Which I intend to fulfill to the best of my ability.”

“The best of your a-a-bility?” she stutters.

I grin and stand up.

“Don’t we have to pay?”

“I’m a member here. They’ll bill me. Come, Anastasia, after you.” I step aside, and Ana gets up from the table and pauses beside me to smooth her dress down over her thighs.

“I can’t wait to get you home.” I follow her out of the restaurant and stop to talk to the maître d’.

“Thanks, Carmine. Superb as always.”

“You’re welcome. Mr. Grey.”

“And can you call down to have the car brought to the front?”

“No problem. Good night.”

As we get into the elevator I take Ana’s elbow and steer her toward the far corner. I stand behind her and watch as other couples get in.

Hell.

Linc, Elena’s ex, joins us, wearing a shit brown suit.

What an asshole.

“Grey,” he acknowledges me. I nod, and I’m relieved when he turns around. The fact that he’s here, only inches away, makes what I’m about to do even more exciting.

The doors close and I kneel quickly, pretending to do up my shoelace. I place my hand around Ana’s ankle, and as I stand, I skim my hand up her calf, past her knee, and her thigh, to her ass. Her naked ass.

She tenses and I slide my left arm around her waist and pull her to me while my fingers skate down her ass, to her sex. The elevator stops at another floor and we shuffle back as one to let more people on board. But I’m not interested in them. Slowly I brush her clitoris, once, twice, thrice, and then move my fingers back to her heat. “Always so ready, Miss Steele,” I whisper as I inch my middle finger inside her. I hear her faint gasp. “Keep still and quiet,” I warn, so only she can hear me. Slowly I move my finger in and out, on and on, as my excitement grows. She grabs the arm I have around her waist and she squeezes. Holding on. Her breathing accelerates, and I know she’s trying to keep quiet as I silently torment her with my fingers.

The sway of the elevator as it stops to pick up more passengers adds to the rhythm. She sags against me, then pushes her ass against my hand, wanting more. Faster.

Oh, my greedy, greedy girl.

“Hush,” I breathe, and nuzzle her hair. I ease a second finger inside her and continue to pump them in and out. She tips her head back against my chest, exposing her throat. I want to kiss her, but that would draw too much attention to what we’re doing. Her grip on me tightens.

Damn. I’m bursting. My jeans are too fucking tight. I want her, but now really is not the place.

Her fingers dig into me.

“Don’t come. I want that later,” I whisper, and I splay my hand on her belly and press down, knowing that this will emphasize everything she’s feeling. Her head is lolling against my chest and she’s biting down on her bottom lip.

The elevator stops.

There’s a loud ping and the doors open on the first floor.

Slowly I withdraw my hand as the passengers exit, and I kiss the back of her head.

Well done, Ana.

She did not give us away.

I hold her for a moment longer.

Linc turns and nods as he leaves with a woman who I assume is his present wife. When I’m sure Ana is able to stand, I release her. She gazes up at me, her eyes dark and smoky with lust.

“Ready?” I ask, then slip both of my fingers briefly into my mouth. “Mighty fine, Miss Steele.” I give her a wicked grin.

“I can’t believe you just did that,” she whispers, breathless and arousing.

“You’d be surprised what I can do, Miss Steele.” Reaching out, I neaten her hair, pushing it behind her ear. “I want to get you home, but maybe we’ll only make it as far as the car.” I give her a quick smile, check that my jacket is covering the front of my jeans, then take her hand and lead her out of the elevator. “Come,” I bid her.

“Yes, I want to.”

“Miss Steele!”

“I’ve never had sex in a car,” she says, as her heels echo on the marble floor. I stop and tip her head up so that we are eye to eye.

“I’m very pleased to hear that. I have to say I’d be very surprised, not to say mad, if you had.”

“That’s not what I meant,” she huffs.

“What did you mean?”

“Christian, it was just an expression.”

“The famous expression, ‘I’ve never had sex in a car.’ Yes, it just trips off the tongue.” And I’m teasing her, she’s so easy to provoke.

“Christian, I wasn’t thinking. For heaven’s sake, you’ve just…um, done that to me in an elevator full of people. My wits are scattered.”

“What did I do to you?”

She purses her lips. “You turned me on, big-time. Now take me home and fuck me.”

I laugh, taken aback. I had no idea she could be quite so crude. “You’re a born romantic, Miss Steele.” I take her hand and we head to the valet, who has the Saab parked up and ready. I give him a large tip and open the passenger door for Ana.

“So you want sex in a car?” I ask, as I switch on the ignition.

“Quite frankly, I would have been happy with the lobby floor.”

“Trust me, Ana, so would I. But I don’t enjoy being arrested at this time of night, and I didn’t want to fuck you in a restroom. Well, not today.”

“You mean there was a possibility?”

“Oh yes.”

“Let’s go back.”

I turn to look at her earnest expression. She’s so unexpected sometimes. I start to laugh, and soon we are both laughing. It’s cathartic after the build-up of sexual tension. I place a hand on her knee, caressing her and she stops laughing and looks at me with large, dark eyes.

I could fall into them and never come back. She’s so beautiful.

“Patience, Anastasia,” I whisper and we move off, heading up Fifth Avenue.

She’s silent but restless as we drive back but she gives me the occasional come-hither look through her dark lashes.

I know that look.

Yes. Ana. I want you, too.

In every way…Please say yes.

The Saab glides into a parking space in Escala’s garage. I switch off the engine, thinking about her wish for sex in a car. I have to admit it’s not something I’ve done, either. She’s biting her lip, her expression…wanton.

Groin-tighteningly wanton.

Gently, I release her lip with my fingers. I love that she wants me as much as I want her. “We will fuck in the car at a time and place of my choosing,” I whisper. “Right now, I want to take you on every available surface of my apartment.”

“Yes,” she says, even though it’s not a question. I lean toward her and she closes her eyes and puckers her lips, offering me a kiss. Her cheeks are slightly flushed.

I take a quick look around the car.

We could.

No.

She opens her eyes, waiting impatiently.

“If I kiss you now, we won’t make it into the apartment. Come.” Resisting the urge to jump her, I climb out of the car, and together we wait for the elevator.

I hold her hand, stroking her knuckles with my thumb. Setting up a rhythm that I hope to repeat with my dick in a few minutes.

“So, what happened to instant gratification?” she asks.

“It’s not appropriate in every situation, Anastasia.”

“Since when?”

“Since this evening.”

“Why are you torturing me so?”

“Tit for tat, Miss Steele.”

“How am I torturing you?”

“I think you know.”

And I watch as realization dawns on her face.

Yes, baby.

I love you. And I want you to be my wife.

But you won’t tell me your answer.

“I’m into delayed gratification, too,” she whispers, and gives me a shy smile.

She is torturing me!

I tug her hand and pull her into my arms, and my fingers wrap around her nape and I angle her head so I can look into her eyes. “What can I do to make you say yes?” I beg her.

“Give me some time, please,” she says. I groan and my lips are on hers, my tongue seeking hers. The elevator doors open and we shuffle in, maintaining our embrace. And she’s lit from within. Her hands are on me. Everywhere. In my hair. Around my face. On my ass. And she’s kissing me back with such passion.

I burn for her.

Pushing her against the wall, reveling in the fervor of her kiss, I pin her with my hips and my erection. I have one hand in her hair and one on her chin.

“You own me,” I whisper against her mouth. “My fate is in your hands, Ana.”

She pushes my jacket off my shoulders and the elevator stops and opens and we are in the foyer. I notice that the usual flowers are missing from the foyer table.

Fucking A.

Foyer table, surface number one!

I press Ana against the wall and she finishes the job and pushes my jacket off me onto the floor. My hand runs up her thigh, taking the hem of her dress with it while we kiss. I boost her skirt higher.

“First surface here,” I murmur, and lift her suddenly. “Wrap your legs around me.”

She does as she’s told and I lay her down on the hall table. From my jeans pocket I fish out a condom and hand it to Ana and undo my fly.

Her fingers impatiently open the packet.

Her enthusiasm is arousing.

“Do you know how much you turn me on?”

“What? No. I…” She’s breathless.

“Well, you do. All the time.” I grab the packet from her hands and roll on the condom while staring at her. Her hair is cascading over the edge of the table and she’s staring up at me, her eyes brimming with want.

I move between her legs and lift her ass off the table, spreading her legs farther apart. “Keep your eyes open. I want to see you.” I take both her hands and slowly sink into her.

It takes all my willpower to keep my eyes open on hers. She’s exquisite.

Every fucking inch of her.

She closes her eyes and I thrust hard into her. “Open,” I urge, and I tighten my hold on her hands.

She cries out but opens her eyes. They are wild and blue and beautiful. Slowly I pull out of her, then sink into her again. She watches me.

Her eyes on me.

God, I love her.

I move faster. Loving her. The only way I really know how.

Her mouth opens, slack, wide, beautiful. And her legs tense around me.

This is going to be quick.

And she comes around me, taking me with her.

She calls out through her climax.

“Yes, Ana!” I cry. And come and come and come.

I collapse on her, release her hands, and rest my head on her chest. I close my eyes. She cradles my head, running her fingers through my hair as I catch my breath. I look up at her. “I’m not finished with you yet,” I whisper, and I kiss her and disengage myself.

Hastily, I do up my fly and lift her off the table.

We stand in the foyer holding each other. We’re under the careful watch of the women in my Madonna and Child paintings that line the walls.

I think they approve of my girl.

“Bed,” I whisper.

“Please,” she says. And I take her to bed and make love to her once more.

SHE COMES, RIDING ME hard, and I hold her upright as I watch her spiral out of control.

Fuck, it’s erotic.

She’s naked, her breasts bouncing, and I let go, climaxing inside her, my head back, my fingers digging into her hips. She flops down on my chest, panting hard.

As I recover my breath, I run my fingers down her back, dewy with her sweat.

“Satisfied, Miss Steele?”

She mumbles her agreement. Then she looks up at me; her expression is a little dazed, but she angles her head.

Shit. She’s going to kiss my chest.

I take a deep breath and she plants a soft, warm kiss on my chest.

It’s okay. The darkness is quiet. Or gone. I don’t know.

I relax and roll us onto our sides.

“Is sex like this for everyone? I’m surprised anyone ever goes out,” she says, with a sated smile.

She makes me feel ten feet tall. “I can’t speak for everyone, but it’s pretty damned special with you, Anastasia.” My lips touch hers.

“That’s because you’re pretty damned special, Mr. Grey.” She caresses my face.

“It’s late. Go to sleep.” I kiss her and pull her to me so that we’re spooning, her back to my front, and I tug up the comforter.

“You don’t like compliments.” Her voice is drifting. She’s tired.

No. I’m not used to them.

“Go to sleep, Anastasia.”

“I loved the house,” she mutters.

That means she might say yes. I grin into her hair and nuzzle her. “I love you. Go to sleep.”

And I close my eyes as her scent fills my nostrils.

A house. A wife. What more do I need? Please say yes, Ana.