Fifty Shades of Grey (Fifty Shades #1)(89)
Author: E.L. James

His breathing is mounting, his ardor … Holy cow – his erection… we’re in a field. But I don’t care. My hands twist in his hair, anchoring him to me. I want him, here, now, on the ground. He breaks away and gazes down at me, his eyes now dark and luminous in the early morning light, full of raw, arrogant sensuality. Wow. He takes my breath away.

"Breakfast," he whispers, making it sound deliciously erotic.

How can he make bacon and eggs sound like forbidden fruitIt’s an extraordinary skill. He turns, clasping my hand, and we head back toward the car.

"What about the glider?"

"Someone will take care of that?", he says dismissively. "We’ll eat now." His tone is unequivocal.

Food! He’s talking food, when really all I want is him.

"Come." He smiles.

I have never seen him like this, and it’s a joy to behold. I find myself walking beside him, hand in hand, with a stupid, goofy grin plastered on my face. It reminds me of when I was ten and spending the day in Disneyland with Ray. It was a perfect day, and this is sure shaping out to be the same.

Back in the car, as we head back along I-95 towards Savannah, my phone alarm goes off. Oh yes… my pill.

"What’s that?" Christian asks, curious, glancing at me.

I fumble in my purse for the packet.

"Alarm for my pill," I mutter as my cheeks flush.

His lips quirk up.

"Good, well done. I hate condoms."

I flush some more. He’s as patronizing as ever.

"I like that you introduced me to Mark as your girlfriend," I murmur.

"Isn’t that what you are?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Am II thought you wanted a submissive."

"So did I, Anastasia, and I do. But I’ve told you, I want more, too."

Oh my. He’s coming round, and hope surges through me, leaving me breathless.

"I’m very happy that you want more," I whisper.

"We aim to please, Miss Steele." He smirks as we pull into the International House of Pancakes.

"IHOP." I grin back at him. I don’t believe it. Who would have thought… Christian Grey at IHOP.

It’s 8:30 a.m. but quiet in the restaurant. It smells of sweet batter, fried food, and disinfec-tant. Hmm… not such an enticing aroma. Christian leads me to a booth.

"I would never have pictured you here," I say as we slide into a booth.

"My dad used to bring us to one of these whenever my mom went away at a medical conference. It was our secret." He smiles at me, gray eyes dancing, then picks up a menu, running a hand through his wayward hair as he stares down at it.

Oh, I want to run my hands through that hair. I pick up a menu and examine it. I realize I’m starving.

"I know what I want," he breathes, his voice low and husky.

I glance up at him, and he’s staring at me in that way that tightens all the muscles in my belly and takes my breath away, his eyes dark and smoldering. Holy shit. I gaze at him, my blood singing in my veins answering his call.

"I want what you want," I whisper.

He inhales sharply.

"Here?" he asks suggestively, raising an eyebrow at me, smiling wickedly, his teeth trapping the tip of his tongue.

Oh my… sex in IHOP. His expression changes, growing darker.

"Don’t bite your lip," he orders. "Not here, not now." His eyes harden momentarily, and for a moment, he looks so deliciously dangerous. "If I can’t have you here, don’t tempt me.""Hi, My name’s Leandra, What can I get for you… er… folks… er… today, this mornin… ?" Her voice trails off, stumbling over her words as she gets an eye full of Mr.

Beautiful opposite me. She flushes scarlet, and a small ounce of sympathy for her bubbles unwelcome into my consciousness because he still does that to me. Her presence allows me to escape briefly from his sensual glare.

"Anastasia?" he prompts me, ignoring her, and I don’t think anyone could squeeze as much carnality into my name as he does at that moment.

I swallow, praying that I don’t go the same color as poor Leandra.

"I told you, I want what you want." I keep my voice soft, low, and he looks at me hun-grily. Jeez, my inner goddess swoons. Am I up to this game?

Leandra looks from me to him and back again. She’s practically the same color as her shiny red hair.

"Shall I give you folks another minute to decide?"

"No. We know what we want." Christian’s mouth twitches with a small, sexy smile.

"We’ll have two portions of the original buttermilk pancakes with maple syrup and bacon on the side, two glasses of orange juice, one black coffee with skim milk, and one English breakfast tea, if you have it," says Christian, not taking his eyes off me.

"Thank you sir. Will that be all?" Leandra whispers, looking anywhere but at the two of us. We both turn to stare at her, and she flushes crimson again and scuttles away.

"You know it’s really not fair." I glance down at the Formica tabletop, tracing a pattern in it with my index finger, trying to sound nonchalant.

"What’s not fair?"

"How you disarm people. Women. Me."

"Do I disarm you?"

I snort.

"All the time."

"It’s just looks, Anastasia," he says mildly.

"No, Christian, it’s much more than that."

His brow creases.

"You disarm me totally, Miss Steele. Your innocence. It cuts through all the crap."

"Is that why you’ve changed your mind?"

"Changed my mind?"

"Yes – about … err… us?"

He strokes his chin thoughtfully with his long, skilled fingers.

"I don’t think I’ve changed my mind per se. We just need to re-define our parameters, re-draw our battle lines, if you will. We can make this work, I’m sure. I want you submissive in my playroom. I will punish you if you digress from the rules. Other than that…

well, I think it’s all up for discussion. Those are my requirements, Miss Steele. What say you to that?"

"So I get to sleep with youIn your bed?"

"Is that what you want?"

"Yes."

"I agree then. Besides, I sleep very well when you’re in my bed. I had no idea." His brow creases as his voice fades.

"I was frightened you’d leave me if I didn’t agree to all of it," I whisper.

"I’m not going anywhere, Anastasia. Besides… " He trails off, and after some thought, he adds. "We’re following your advice, your definition: compromise. You emailed it to me. And so far, it’s working for me."

"I love that you want more," I murmur shyly.

"I know."

"How do you know?"

"Trust me. I just do." He smirks at me. He’s hiding something. What?

At that moment, Leandra arrives with breakfast and our conversation ceases. My stomach rumbles, reminding me how ravenous I am. Christian watches with annoying approval as I devour everything on my plate.

"Can I treat you?" I ask Christian.

"Treat me how?"

"Pay for this meal."

Christian snorts.

"I don’t think so." he scoffs.

"Please. I want to."

He frowns at me.

"Are you trying to completely emasculate me?"

"This is probably the only place that I’ll be able to afford to pay."

"Anastasia, I appreciate the thought. I do. But no."

I purse my lips.

"Don’t scowl," he threatens, his eyes glinting ominously.

Of course he doesn’t ask me for my mother’s address. He knows it already, stalker that he is. When he pulls up outside the house, I don’t comment. What’s the point?

"Do you want to come in?" I ask shyly.

"I need to work, Anastasia, but I’ll be back this evening. What time?"

I ignore the unwelcome stab of disappointment. Why do I want to spend every single minute with this controlling sex godOh yes, I’ve fallen in love with him, and he can fly.

"Thank you… for the more."

"My pleasure, Anastasia." He kisses me, and I inhale his sexy Christian smell.

"I’ll see you later."

"Try and stop me," he whispers.

I wave goodbye as he drives off into the Georgia sunshine. I’m still wearing his sweatshirt and his underwear, and I’m too warm.

In the kitchen, my mom is in a complete flap. It’s not every day she has to entertain a multi-zillionaire, and it’s stressing her out.

"How are you, darling?" she asks, and I flush because she must know what I was doing last night.