TUESDAY, JUNE 14, 2011
Suddenly I’m awake; my heart is pounding and a deep unease tightens my gut. I’m lying naked beside Ana, and she’s fast asleep. Lord, I envy her ability to sleep. My bedside light is still on, the clock reads 1:45, and I cannot shake my disquiet.
Leila?
I dart into my closet and drag on pants and a T-shirt. Back in the bedroom I check under the bed. The balcony door is locked. I hurry down the corridor to Taylor’s office. The door is open, so I knock and look in. Ryan stands, surprised to see me. “Good evening, sir.”
“Hi, Ryan. Everything okay?”
“Yes, sir. All’s quiet.”
“Nothing on the—” I point to the CCTV monitors.
“Nothing, sir. The place is secure. Reynolds just did a walk-through.”
“Good. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome, Mr. Grey.”
I shut his door and go into the kitchen for a glass of water. Looking out across the living room toward the windows and the darkness beyond, I take a sip.
Where are you, Leila?
I see her in my mind’s eye, head bowed. Willing. Waiting. Wanting. Kneeling in my playroom, asleep in her room, kneeling by my side as I work in my study. And now for all I know she’s wandering the streets of Seattle, cold and lonely and acting crazy.
Maybe I’m uneasy because Ana’s agreed to move in.
I can protect her. But she doesn’t want that.
I shake my head. Anastasia is challenging.
She’s very challenging.
Welcome to falling in love. Flynn’s words haunt me. So this is what it’s like. Confusing, exhilarating, exhausting.
I walk over to my grand piano and lower the top board to cover the strings as quietly as I can. I don’t want to wake her. I sit down and stare at the keys. I haven’t played for a few days. I place my fingers on the keys and start to play. As Chopin’s nocturne in B-flat minor quietly fills the room, I’m alone with the melancholy music and it soothes my soul.
A movement in my peripheral vision distracts me. Ana is standing in the shadows. Her eyes glint from the light in the hallway, and I continue to play. She walks toward me, dressed in the pale pink satin robe. She’s stunning: a diva who’s stepped off the silver screen.
When she reaches me, I take my hands off the keys. I want to touch her.
“Why did you stop? That was lovely,” she says.
“Do you have any idea how desirable you look at this moment?”
“Come to bed,” she says.
I offer her my hand, and when she takes it I pull her into my lap and embrace her, kissing her exposed neck and tracing my lips to the pulse point at her throat. She trembles in my arms.
“Why do we fight?” I ask, as my teeth tease her earlobe.
“Because we’re getting to know each other, and you’re stubborn and cantankerous and moody and difficult.” She tilts her head to give me better access to her neck. I smile against her skin as I run my nose down her throat.
Challenging.
“I’m all those things, Miss Steele. It’s a wonder you put up with me.” I graze her earlobe with my teeth.
“Mmm…” She lets me know it feels good.
“Is it always like this?” I whisper against her skin. I cannot get enough of her?
“I have no idea,” she says, her voice little more than a sigh.
“Me neither.” I untie the sash on her robe and it falls open, revealing the gown beneath. It clings to her body, showing every curve, every dip, every hollow. My hand skims from her face to her breast and her nipples harden, crowning against the satin when I circle them with my fingers. I move my hand to her waist, then to her hip.
“You feel so fine under this material, and I can see everything—even this.” I tug gently on her pubic hair, visible as a slight mound beneath the fabric.
She gasps and I cradle her neck and coil my hand in her hair, drawing her head back. I kiss her, coaxing open her mouth and testing her tongue with mine.
She moans once more and her fingers curl around my face, stroking my stubble as her body rises beneath my touch.
Gently I lift up her nightgown, enjoying the feel of rich, soft satin as it inches up her beautiful body, revealing her long lovely legs. My hands find her ass. She’s naked. I cup her in my hand, then move and run my thumbnail down the length of her inner thigh.
I want her. Here. On my piano.
Abruptly I stand, surprising Ana, and I lift her onto the piano so she’s sitting on the front of the top board, her feet on the keys. Two discordant chords ring through the room as she gazes at me. Standing between her legs, I take her hands. “Lie back.” I ease her down onto the piano. The satin spills like fluid over the edge of the gleaming black wood and onto the keys.
Once she’s on her back I let go, strip off my T-shirt, and push her legs apart. Ana’s feet play a staccato melody on the low and high keys. I kiss the inside of her right knee and trail kisses and soft nips up her leg to her thigh. Her nightgown inches up, revealing more and more of my beautiful girl. She groans. She knows what I have in mind. Her feet flex, and the dissonant sounds from the keys resonate through the room, an uneven accompaniment to her accelerated breathing.
I reach my goal: her clitoris. And I kiss her once, relishing the jolt that shoots through her body. Then I blow on her pubic hair to make a small space for my tongue. I push her knees wider and hold her in place. She’s mine. Exposed. At my mercy. And I love it. Slowly, I start circling my tongue around her sensitive sweet spot. She cries out and I continue over and over and over, while she’s writhing beneath me, tilting her pelvis up for more.
I don’t stop.
I consume her.
Until my face is soaked.
From me.
From her.
Her legs start to tremble.
“Oh, Christian, please.”
“Oh no, baby, not yet.” Pausing, I take a deep breath. She’s laid out before me in satin, her hair spilling over the polished ebony; she’s gorgeous, lit only from the reading light.
“No,” she whimpers. She doesn’t want me to stop.
“This is my revenge, Ana. Argue with me and I am going to take it out on your body somehow.” I kiss her belly, feeling her muscles tighten beneath my lips.
Oh, baby, you are so ready.
My hands travel up her thighs, stroking, kneading, teasing.
With my tongue I circuit her navel while my thumbs reach the junction of her thighs.
“Ah!” she lets out a gargled cry as I push one thumb inside her while the other teases her clitoris, around and around and around.
She arches off the piano.
“Christian!” she cries.
Enough, Grey.
I lift her feet off the keys and push them so she slides effortlessly over the top board. I undo my fly, grab a condom, and let my pants fall to the floor. I climb up and kneel between her legs as I put on the condom. She watches me, her expression intense and filled with longing. I crawl up her body until we are face to face. My love and desire are reflected in her dark, dark eyes.
“I want you so badly,” I whisper, and slowly claim her.
And ease back.
And ease in.
She clutches my biceps and tips her head, her mouth open wide.
She’s so close.
I build up speed and her legs flex beneath me and she lets out a strangled cry as she comes and I let go. Losing myself in the woman I love.
I STROKE HER HAIR as she rests her head on my chest.
“Do you drink tea or coffee in the evening?” Ana asks.
“What a strange question.”
“I thought I could bring you tea in your study, and then I realized I didn’t know what you would like.”
“Oh, I see. Water or wine in the evening, Ana. Though maybe I should try tea.” I move my hand from her hair to her back, stroking, touching, caressing her.
“We really know very little about each other,” she whispers.
“I know.” She doesn’t know me. And when she does…
She leans up, frowning. “What is it?”
I wish I could tell you. But if I do, you’ll leave.
I cup her beautiful, sweet face. “I love you, Ana Steele.”
“I love you, too, Christian Grey. Nothing you tell me will drive me away.”
We’ll see, Ana. We’ll see.
I move her to my side, sit up and vault off the piano, and lift her down.
“Bed,” I whisper.
Grandpa Trev-yan and I are picking apples.
See these red apples on this green apple tree.
I nod.
We put these here. You and me. Remember?
We fooled this old apple tree.
It thought it would make bitter green apples.
But it makes these sweet red apples.
Remember.
I nod.
He holds the apple to his nose and sniffs.
Smell it.
It smells of good. It smells of full.
He rubs the apple against his shirt and gives it to me.
Taste it. I take a bite.
It is crunchy and yummy and apple pie.
I smile. My tummy is happy.
These apples are called fu-gee.
Here, you want to try the green one?
I don’t know.
Grandpa takes a bite and his shoulders shake.
He makes a yuk face. That’s nasty.
He offers it to me. He smiles. I smile and take a bite.
A shiver goes from my head to my toes.
NASTY.
I make a yuk face, too. He laughs. I laugh.
We pick the red apples and put them in the bucket.
We fooled the tree.
It’s not nasty. It’s sweet.
Not nasty. Sweet.
The smell is evocative. My grandfather’s orchard. I open my eyes and I’m wrapped around Ana like swaddling. Her fingers are in my hair and she’s smiling shyly at me.
“Good morning, beautiful,” I murmur.
“Good morning, beautiful, yourself.”
My body has another greeting in mind. I give her a swift kiss before disentangling my legs from hers. Balanced on one elbow, I look down at her. “Sleep okay?”
“Yes, despite the interruption to my sleep last night.”
“Hmm. You can interrupt me like that anytime.” I kiss her again.
“How about you? Did you sleep well?”
“I always sleep well with you, Anastasia.”
“No more nightmares?”
“No.”
Only dreams. Pleasant dreams.
“What are your nightmares about?”
Her question catches me off-guard, and suddenly I’m thinking of my four-year-old self—helpless, lost, lonely, hurting, and filled with rage. “They’re flashbacks of my early childhood, or so Dr. Flynn says. Some vivid, some less so.”
I was a neglected, abused child.
My mother didn’t love me.
She didn’t protect me.
She killed herself and abandoned me.
The crack whore dead on the floor.
The burn.
Not the burn.
No. Don’t go there, Grey.
“Do you wake up crying and screaming?” Ana’s question brings me back, and I’m running my finger along her collarbone, keeping contact with her. My dreamcatcher.
“No, Anastasia. I’ve never cried. As far as I can remember.”
Even that evil fucking bastard couldn’t make me cry.
“Do you have any happy memories of your childhood?”
“I recall the crack whore baking. I remember the smell. A birthday cake, I think. For me.”
Mommy is in the kitchen.
It smells of nice.
Nice and warm and chocolate.
She sings.
Mommy’s Happy song.
She smiles. “This is for you, Maggot.”
For me!
“And then there’s Mia’s arrival with my mom and dad. My mom was worried about my reaction, but I adored baby Mia immediately. My first word was ‘Mia.’ I remember my first piano lesson. Miss Kathie, my tutor, was awesome. She kept horses, too.”
“You said your mom saved you. How?”
Grace? Isn’t it obvious?
“She adopted me. I thought she was an angel when I first met her. She was dressed in white and so gentle and calm as she examined me. I’ll never forget that. If she’d said no, or if Carrick had said no…”
Fuck. I’d be dead by now.
I glance at my alarm clock: 6:15. “This is all a little deep for so early in the morning.”
“I have made a vow to get to know you better,” Ana says, looking both earnest and mischievous at once.
“Did you, now, Miss Steele? I thought you wanted to know if I preferred coffee or tea. Anyway, I can think of one way you can get to know me.” I nudge her with my erection.
“I think I know you quite well enough that way.”
I grin. “I don’t think I’ll ever get to know you well enough that way. There are definite advantages to waking up beside you.” I nuzzle her ear.
“Don’t you have to get up?”
“Not this morning. Only one place I want to be up right now, Miss Steele.”
“Christian!”
I roll on top of her and grab her hands so they are above her head, and kiss her throat. “Oh, Miss Steele.” Holding both her hands in one of mine, I skim my other hand down her body and at a leisurely pace hitch up her satin nightgown, until my arousal is cradled against her sex. “Oh, what I’d like to do to you,” I whisper.
She smiles and tilts her pelvis up to meet me.
Naughty girl.
First, we need a condom.
I reach over to my bedside table.
ANA JOINS ME AT the breakfast bar. She’s wearing a light blue dress and high-heeled pumps. Again, she looks stunning. I watch her devour her breakfast. I’m relaxed. Happy, even. She’s said she’ll move in with me and I started my day with a bang. I smirk and wonder if Ana would find that funny. She turns to me. “When am I going to meet your trainer, Claude, and put him through his paces?”
“Depends if you want to go to New York this weekend or not—unless you’d like to see him early one morning this week. I’ll ask Andrea to check on his schedule and get back to you.”
“Andrea?”
“My PA.”
She’s back today. What a relief.
“One of your many blondes?”
“She’s not mine. She works for me. You’re mine.”
“I work for you.”
Oh yes! “So you do.”
“Maybe Claude can teach me to kickbox,” Ana says, but she’s grinning like a fool, too.
Clearly she wants to improve her odds against me. Now, this could be interesting. “Bring it on, Miss Steele.”
Ana takes a bite of her pancake and glances behind her. “You put the lid of the piano back up.”
“I closed it last night so as not to disturb you. Guess it didn’t work, but I’m glad it didn’t.”
Ana blushes.
Yes. There’s a lot to be said for piano sex. And sex first thing in the morning. It’s great for my mood.
Mrs. Jones interrupts our moment. She leans over and places a paper bag with Ana’s lunch inside in front of her. “For later, Ana. Tuna, okay?”
“Oh yes. Thank you, Mrs. Jones.” Ana gives her a broad smile, which Gail reciprocates, and then Gail leaves the room to give us some privacy. This is new to Gail, too. It’s unusual for me to have anyone here during the week. The only other time has been with Ana.
“Can I ask you something?” Ana interrupts my thoughts.
“Of course.”
“And you won’t be angry?”
“Is it about Elena?”
“No.”
“Then I won’t be angry.”
“But I now have a supplementary question.”
“Oh?”
“Which is about her.”
My sense of humor evaporates. “What?”
“Why do you get so mad when I ask you about her?”
“Honestly?” I ask.
“I thought you were always honest with me.”
“I endeavor to be.”
“That sounds like a very evasive answer.”
“I am always honest with you, Ana. I don’t want to play games. Well, not those sorts of games,” I add.
“What sort of games do you want to play?” Ana blinks, pretending to be clueless.
“Miss Steele, you are so easily distracted.”
She laughs, and the sight and sound of her doing so restore my good humor. “Mr. Grey, you are distracting on so many levels.”
“My favorite sound in the whole world is your giggle, Anastasia. Now—what was your original question?”
“Oh yes. You only saw your subs on the weekends?”
“Yes, that’s correct.” Where is she going with this?
“So no sex during the week.” She glances at the living room entrance; she’s checking that no one can hear.
I laugh. “Oh, that’s where we’re going with this. Why do you think I work out every weekday?”
Today is different. Sex on a workday. Before breakfast. The last time that happened was on a desk in my study with you, Anastasia.
“You look very pleased with yourself, Miss Steele.”
“I am, Mr. Grey.”
“You should be. Now eat your breakfast.”
WE RIDE DOWN IN the elevator with Taylor and Sawyer, and our collective good mood continues in the car. Taylor and Sawyer are up front when we set off for SIP.
Yes, I could definitely get used to this.
Ana is buoyant. She steals glances at me, or is it me who’s stealing glances at her?
“Didn’t you say your roommate’s brother was arriving today?” I ask her.
“Oh, Ethan,” she exclaims. “I forgot. Oh, Christian, thank you for reminding me. I’ll have to go back to the apartment.”
“What time?”
“I’m not sure what time he’s arriving.”
“I don’t want you going anywhere on your own.”
She gives me a pained look. “I know,” she says. “Will Sawyer be spying, um, patrolling today?”
“Yes.” I stress the word.
Leila’s still out there.
“If I were driving the Saab it would be easier,” she mutters, sounding sullen.
“Sawyer will have a car, and he can drive you to your apartment, depending on what time.” I glance at Taylor in the rearview mirror. He nods.
Ana sighs. “Okay. I think Ethan will probably contact me during the day. I’ll let you know what the plans are then.”
This arrangement leaves a great deal to chance.
But I don’t want an argument.
I’m having too good a day.
“Okay. Nowhere on your own. Do you understand?” I waggle a finger at her.
“Yes, dear,” she says, each word dripping with sarcasm.
Oh, what I’d give to spank her right now.
“And maybe you should just use your BlackBerry—I’ll e-mail you on it. That should prevent my IT guy having a thoroughly interesting morning, okay?”
“Yes, Christian.” She rolls her eyes.
“Why, Miss Steele, I do believe you’re making my palm twitch.”
“Ah, Mr. Grey, your perpetually twitching palm. What are we going to do with that?”
I laugh. She’s funny.
My phone vibrates.
Shit. It’s Elena.
“What is it?”
“Christian. Hi. It’s me. I’m sorry to disturb you. I wanted to make sure you didn’t call your guy. That note was from Isaac.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Yes. This is so embarrassing. It was for a scene.”
“For a scene.”
“Yes. And he didn’t mean five thousand in cash.”
I laugh. “When did he tell you this?”
“This morning. I called him first thing. I told him I’d been to see you. Oh, Christian, I’m sorry.”
“No, don’t worry. You don’t have to apologize. I’m glad there’s a logical explanation. It did seem a ridiculously low amount of money.”
“I’m mortified.”
“I have no doubt you’ve something evil and creative planned for your revenge. Poor Isaac.”
“Actually, he’s furious with me. So I may have to make it up to him.”
“Good.”
“Anyway. Thank you for listening yesterday. Talk soon.”
“Good-bye.” I hang up and turn to Ana, who’s watching me.
“Who was that?” she asks.
“You really want to know?”
She shakes her head and stares out the window, the corners of her mouth turning down. “Hey.” I take her hand and kiss each knuckle, then take her little finger, slip it into my mouth, and suck it. Hard. Then bite down gently.
She wriggles beside me and gives a nervous look to Taylor and Sawyer in the front seat. I have her attention.
“Don’t sweat it, Anastasia. She’s in the past.” I plant a kiss in the center of her palm and release her hand. She opens the door and I watch her stride into SIP.
“Mr. Grey, I’d like to do a sweep of Miss Steele’s apartment if she’s returning there today,” Taylor says, and I agree it’s a good idea.
ANDREA GIVES ME A broad smile when I step out of the elevator at Grey House. A mousy-looking young woman stands beside her.
“Good morning, Mr. Grey. This is Sarah Hunter. She’ll be interning with us.”
Sarah looks me squarely in the eye and holds out her hand. “Good morning, Mr. Grey. Pleased to meet you.”
“Hello, Sarah. Welcome.” We exchange firm handshakes.
Her grip is surprising.
Not so mousy, then.
I extract my hand.
“Could I see you in my office, Andrea?”
“Of course. Would you like Sarah to make you a coffee?”
“Yes. Black. Please.”
Sarah sashays off toward the kitchen with an enthusiasm that I hope I won’t find irritating, and I hold the door to my office open for Andrea. Once she’s inside, I close the door.
“Andrea—”
“Mr. Grey—”
We both stop talking.
“Go,” I say.
“Mr. Grey, I just wanted to say thank you for the suite. It was gorgeous. You really didn’t—”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were getting married?” I sit down at my desk.
Andrea blushes. This I do not see often, and she seems at a loss for what to say.
“Andrea?”
“Well. Um. There’s a non-fraternization clause in my contract.”
“You married someone who works here!”
How the hell did she keep that to herself?
“Yes, sir.”
“Who’s the lucky guy?”
“Damon Parker; he works in engineering.”
“The Australian.”
“He needs a green card. He’s on an H1 visa at the moment.”
“I see.” A marriage of convenience. For some strange reason, I’m disappointed for and in her. She sees the censure on my face and hurries on.
“That’s not the reason I married him. I love him,” she says in a most uncharacteristic way, and she blushes. The stain on her cheeks restores my faith in her.
“Well, congratulations. Here you go.” I hand her the “happily ever after” card I signed yesterday and hope she doesn’t open it in front of me. “How’s married life so far?” I ask, to prevent her from doing just that.
“I recommend it, sir.” She’s glowing. I recognize that look. It’s how I feel myself. And now I’m at a loss as to what to say.
Andrea shifts back into work mode. “Shall we go through your schedule?” she asks.
“Please.”
MARRIAGE. I CONTEMPLATE THE institution when Andrea leaves. It obviously agrees with her. It’s what most women want. Isn’t it? I wonder what Ana would do if I asked her to marry me. I shake my head, feeling ambushed by the thought.
Don’t be ridiculous, Grey.
In my mind I replay this morning. I could wake up every day beside Anastasia Steele and I could close my eyes beside her every night.
You’re smitten, Grey.
You’ve got it bad.
Enjoy this while it lasts.
I e-mail her.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Sunrise
Date: June 14 2011 09:23
To: Anastasia Steele
I love waking up with you in the morning.
Christian Grey
Completely & Utterly Smitten CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
I grin when I press send.
I hope she’ll read this on her BlackBerry.
Sarah brings me my coffee and I open the latest draft of the SIP agreement and start to read.
My phone buzzes. It’s a text from Elena.