Fifty Shades of Grey (Fifty Shades #1)(44)
Author: E.L. James

"I think we should stay in public, on neutral ground."

He smiles sardonically.

"Do you think that would stop me?" he says softly, a sensual warning.

My eyes widen, and I swallow again.

"I hope so."

"Come, I have a private dining room booked. No public." He smiles at me enigmati-cally and climbs out of the booth, holding his hand out to me.

"Bring your wine," he murmurs.

Placing my hand in his, I slide out and stand up beside him. He releases me, and his hand reaches for my elbow. He leads me back through the bar and up the grand stairs to a mezzanine floor. A young man in full Heathman livery approaches us.

"Mr. Grey, this way sir."

We follow him through a plush seating area to an intimate dining room. Just one secluded table. The room is small but sumptuous. Beneath a shimmering chandelier, the table is all starched linen, crystal glasses, silver cutlery, and white rose bouquet. An old-world, sophisticated charm pervades the wood-paneled room. The waiter pulls out my chair, and I sit. He places my napkin in my lap. Christian sits opposite me. I peek up at him."Don’t bite your lip," he whispers.

I frown. Damn it. I don’t even know that I’m doing it.

"I’ve ordered already. I hope you don’t mind."

Frankly, I’m relieved, I’m not sure I can make any further decisions.

"No, that’s fine," I acquiesce.

"It’s good to know that you can be amenable. Now, where were we?"

"The nitty-gritty." I take another large sip of wine. It really is delicious. Christian Grey does wine well. I remember the last sip of wine he gave me, in my bed. I blush at the intrusive thought.

"Yes, your issues." He fishes into his inside jacket pocket and pulls out a piece of paper.

My email.

"Clause 2. Agreed. This is for the benefit of us both. I shall redraft."

I blink at him. Holy shit… we are going to go through each of these points one at a time. I just don’t feel so brave face to face. He looks so earnest. I steel myself with another sip of my wine. Christian continues.

"My sexual health. Well, all of my previous partners have had blood tests, and I have regular tests every six months for all the health risks you mention. All my recent tests are clear. I have never taken drugs. In fact, I’m vehemently anti-drugs. I have a strict no-tolerance policy with regards to drugs for all my employees, and I insist on random drug testing."

Wow… control freakery gone mad. I blink at him shocked.

"I have never had any blood transfusions. Does that answer your question?"

I nod, impassive.

"Your next point I mentioned earlier. You can walk away any time, Anastasia. I won’t stop you. If you go, however – that’s it. Just so you know."

"Okay," I answer softly. If I go, that’s it. The thought is surprisingly painful.

The waiter arrives with our first course. How can I possibly eatHoly Moses – he’s ordered oysters on a bed of ice.

"I hope you like oysters," Christian’s voice is soft.

"I’ve never had one." Ever.

"ReallyWell." He reaches for one. "All you do is tip and swallow. I think you can manage that." He gazes at me, and I know what he’s referring to. I blush scarlet. He grins at me, squirts some lemon juice onto his oyster, and then tips it into his mouth.

"Hmm, delicious. Tastes of the sea," he grins at me. "Go on," he encourages.

"So, I don’t chew it?"

"No, Anastasia, you don’t." His eyes are alight with humor. He looks so young like this. I bite my lip, and his expression changes instantly. He looks sternly at me. I reach across and pick up my first ever oyster. Okay… here goes nothing. I squirt some lemon juice on it and tip it up. It slips down my throat, all seawater, salt, the sharp tang of citrus, and fleshiness… ooh. I lick my lips, and he’s watching me intently, his eyes hooded.

"Well?"

"I’ll have another," I say dryly.

"Good girl," he says proudly.

"Did you choose these deliberatelyAren’t they known for their aphrodisiac qualities?""No, they are the first item on the menu. I don’t need an aphrodisiac near you. I think you know that, and I think you react the same way near me," he says simply. "So where were we?" He glances at my email as I reach for another oyster.

He reacts the same way. I affect him… wow.

"Obey me in all things. Yes, I want you to do that. I need you to do that. Think of it as role-play Anastasia."

"But I’m worried you’ll hurt me."

"Hurt you how?"

"Physically." And emotionally.

"Do you really think I would do thatGo beyond any limit you can’t take?"

"You’ve said you’ve hurt someone before."

"Yes, I have. It was a long time ago."

"How did you hurt them?"

"I suspended them from my playroom ceiling. In fact, that’s one of your questions.

Suspension – that’s what the karabiners are for in the playroom. Rope play. One of the ropes was tied too tightly."

I hold my hand up begging him to stop.

"I don’t need to know any more. So you won’t suspend me then?"

"Not if you really don’t want to. You can make that a hard limit."

"Okay."

"So obeying, do you think you can manage that?"

He stares at me, his gray eyes intense. The seconds tick by.

"I could try," I whisper.

"Good." He smiles. "Now term. One month instead of three is no time at all, especially if you want a weekend away from me each month. I don’t think I’ll be able to stay away from you for that length of time. I can barely manage it now," he pauses.

He can’t stay away from meWhat?

"How about, one day over one weekend per month you get to yourself – but I get a midweek night that week?"

"Okay."

"And please, let’s try it for three months. If it’s not for you then, you can walk away anytime."

"Three months?" I’m feeling railroaded. I take another large sip of wine and treat myself to another oyster. I could learn to like these.

"The ownership thing, that’s just terminology and goes back to the principle of obeying. It’s to get you into the right frame of mind, to understand where I’m coming from.

And I want you to know that as soon as you cross my threshold as my submissive, I will do what I like to you. You have to accept that and willingly. That’s why you have to trust me.

I will f**k you, any time, any way, I want – anywhere I want. I will discipline you, because you will screw up. I will train you to please me. But I know you’ve not done this before.

Initially, we’ll take it slowly, and I will help you. We’ll build up to various scenarios. I want you to trust me, but I know I have to earn your trust, and I will. The "or otherwise"

– again it’s to help you get into the mindset, it means anything goes."

He’s so passionate, mesmerizing. This is obviously his obsession, the way he is… I can’t take my eyes off him. He really, really wants this. He stops talking and gazes at me.

"Still with me?" he whispers, his voice rich, warm and seductive. He takes a sip of his wine, his penetrating stare holding mine.

The waiter comes to the door, and Christian subtly nods permitting the waiter to clear our table.

"Would you like some more wine?"

"I have to drive."

"Some water then?"

I nod.

"Still or sparkling?"

"Sparkling, please."

The waiter leaves.

"You’re very quiet," Christian whispers.

"You’re very verbose."

He smiles.

"Discipline. There’s a very fine line between pleasure and pain Anastasia. They are two sides of the same coin, one not existing without the other. I can show you how pleasurable pain can be. You don’t believe me now, but this is what I mean about trust. There will be pain, but nothing that you can’t handle. Again, it comes down to trust. Do you trust me, Ana?"

Ana!

"Yes, I do." I respond spontaneously, not thinking… because it’s true – I do trust him.

"Well then," he looks relieved. "The rest of this stuff is just details."

"Important details."

"Okay, let’s talk through those."

My head is swimming with all his words. I should have brought Kate’s mini disc player so I can listen back to this. There is so much information, so much to process. The waiter re-emerges with our entrees: black cod, asparagus, and crushed potatoes with a hol-landaise sauce. I have never felt less like food.