Fifty Shades of Grey (Fifty Shades #1)(46)
Author: E.L. James

"No."

"Spend the night with me."

"And not touch youNo."

He groans.

"You impossible girl." He pulls back, gazing down at me. "Why do I think you’re telling me goodbye?"

"Because I’m leaving now."

"That’s not what I mean, and you know it."

"Christian, I have to think about this. I don’t know if I can have the kind of relationship you want."

He closes his eyes and presses his forehead against mine, giving us both the opportunity to slow our breathing. After a moment, he kisses my forehead, inhales deeply, his nose in my hair, and then he releases me, stepping back.

"As you wish, Miss Steele," he says, his face impassive. "I’ll escort you to the lobby."

He holds out his hand. Leaning down, I grab my purse and place my hand in his. Holy crap, this could be it. I follow him meekly down the grand stairs and into the lobby, my scalp prickling, my blood pumping. This could be the last goodbye if I decide to say no.

My heart contracts painfully in my chest. What a turnaround. What a difference a moment of clarity can make to a girl.

"Do you have your valet ticket?"

I fish into my clutch purse and hand him the ticket, which he gives to the doorman. I peek up at him as we stand waiting.

"Thank you for dinner," I murmur.

"It’s a pleasure as always, Miss Steele," he says politely, though he looks deep in thought, completely distracted.

As I peer up at him, I commit his beautiful profile to memory. The idea that I might not see him again haunts me, unwelcome and too painful to contemplate. He turns suddenly, staring down at me, his expression intense.

"You’re moving this weekend to Seattle. If you make the right decision, can I see you on Sunday?" He sounds hesitant.

"We’ll see. Maybe," I breathe. Momentarily, he looks relieved, and then he frowns.

"It’s cooler now, don’t you have a jacket?"

"No."

He shakes his head in irritation and takes off his jacket.

"Here. I don’t want you catching cold."

I blink up at him as he holds it open, and as I hold my arms out behind me, I’m reminded of the time in his office when he slipped my coat onto my shoulders – the first time I met him – and the effect he had on me then. Nothing’s changed, in fact, it’s more intense.

His jacket is warm, far too big, and it smells of him. Oh my… delicious.

My car pulls up outside. Christian’s mouth drops open.

"That’s what you drive?" He’s appalled. Taking my hand, he leads me outside. The valet jumps out and hands me my keys, and Christian coolly palms him some money.

"Is this roadworthy?" He’s glaring at me now.

"Yes."

"Will it make it to Seattle?"

"Yes. She will."

"Safely?"

"Yes," I snap, exasperated. "Okay she’s old. But she’s mine, and she’s roadworthy.

My stepdad bought it for me."

"Oh, Anastasia, I think we can do better than this."

"What do you mean?" Realization dawns. "You are not buying me a car."

He glowers at me, his jaw tense.

"We’ll see," he says tightly.

He grimaces as he opens the driver’s door and helps me in. I take my shoes off and roll down the window. He’s gazing at me, his expression unfathomable, eyes dark.

"Drive safely," he says quietly.

"Goodbye, Christian." My voice is hoarse from unbidden, unshed tears – jeez I’m not going to cry. I give him a small smile.

As I drive away, my chest constricts, my tears start to fall, and I choke back a sob.

Soon tears are streaming down my face, and I really don’t understand why I’m crying. I was holding my own. He explained everything. He was clear. He wants me, but the truth is, I need more. I need him to want me like I want and need him, and deep down I know that’s not possible. I am just overwhelmed.

I don’t even know how to categorize him. If I do this thing… will he be my boyfriend?

Will I be able to introduce him to my friendsGo out to bars, the cinema, bowling even, with himThe truth is, I don’t think I will. He won’t let me touch him and he won’t let me sleep with him. I know I’ve not had these things in my past, but I want them in my future.

And that’s not the future he envisages.

What if I do say yes, and in three months’ time he says no, he’s had enough of trying to mold me into something I’m not. How will I feelI’ll have emotionally invested three months, doing things that I’m not sure I want to do. And if he then says no, agreement over, how could I cope with that level of rejectionPerhaps it’s best to back away now with what self-esteem I have reasonably intact.

But the thought of not seeing him again is agonizing. How has he gotten under my skin so quicklyIt can’t just be the sex… can itI dash the tears from my eyes. I don’t want to examine my feelings for him. I’m frightened what I’ll uncover if I do. What am I going to do?

I park up outside our duplex. No lights on. Kate must be out. I’m relieved. I don’t want her to catch me crying again. As I undress, I wake up the mean machine and sitting in my inbox is a message from Christian.

From: Christian Grey

Subject: Tonight

Date: May 25 2011 22:01

To: Anastasia Steele

I don’t understand why you ran this evening. I sincerely hope I answered all your questions to your satisfaction. I know I have given you a great deal to contemplate, and I fervently hope that you will give my proposal your serious consideration. I really want to make this work. We will take it slow.

Trust me.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

His email makes me weep more. I am not a merger. I am not an acquisition. Reading this, I might as well be. I don’t reply. I just don’t know what to say to him. I fumble into my PJs, and wrapping his jacket around me. I climb into bed. As I lie staring into the darkness, I think of all the times he warned me to stay away.

‘Anastasia, you should steer clear of me. I’m not the man for you.’

‘I don’t do the girlfriend thing.’

‘I’m not a hearts and flowers kind of guy.’

‘I don’t make love.”This is all I know.’

And as I weep into my pillow silently, it’s this last idea I cling to. This is all I know, too.

Perhaps together we can chart a new course.

Chapter Fourteen

Christian is standing over me grasping a plaited, leather riding-crop. He’s wearing old, faded, ripped Levis and that’s all. He flicks the crop slowly into his palm as he gazes down at me. He’s smiling, triumphant. I cannot move. I am naked and shackled, spread-eagled on a large four-poster bed. Reaching forward, he trails the tip of the crop from my forehead down the length of my nose, so I can smell the leather, and over my parted, panting lips.

He pushes the tip into my mouth so I can taste the smooth, rich leather.

"Suck," he commands his voice soft. My mouth closes over the tip as I obey.

"Enough," he snaps.

I’m panting once more as he tugs the crop out of my mouth, trails it down and under my chin, on down my neck to the hollow at the base of my throat. He swirls it slowly there and then continues to drag the tip down my body, along my sternum, between my br**sts, over my torso down to my navel. I’m panting, squirming, pulling against my restraints that are biting into my wrists and my ankles. He swirls the tip around my navel then continues to trail the leather tip south, through my pubic hair to my clitoris. He flicks the crop and it hits my sweet spot with a sharp slap, and I come, gloriously, shouting my release.

Abruptly, I wake, gasping for breath, covered in sweat and feeling the aftershocks of my orgasm. Holy hell. I’m completely disorientated. What the hell just happened I’m in my bedroom alone. HowWhyI sit bolt upright, shocked… wow. It’s morning. I glance at my alarm clock – eight o’clock. I put my head in my hands. I didn’t know I could dream sex. Was it something I atePerhaps the oysters and my Internet research manifesting itself in my first wet dream. It’s bewildering. I had no idea that I could orgasm in my sleep.

Kate is skipping around the kitchen when I stagger in.

"Ana, are you okayYou look odd. Is that Christian’s jacket you’re wearing?"

"I’m fine." Damn, should have checked in the mirror. I avoid her piercing green eyes.

I’m still reeling from my morning’s event. "Yes, this is Christian’s jacket."

She frowns.

"Did you sleep?"

"Not very well."

I head for the kettle. I need tea.

"How was dinner?"

So it begins.

"We had oysters. Followed by cod, so I’d say it was fishy."