Chapter 18
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KATE WAKES ME THE next day.
"Ana, I've been calling you. You must have been out cold."
My eyes reluctantly open. She's not just up—she's been for a run. I glance at my alarm. It's eight in the morning. Holy Moses, I've slept for a solid nine hours.
"What is it?" I mumble sleepily.
"There's a man here with a delivery for you. You have to sign for it."
"What?"
"Come on. It's big. It looks interesting." She hops from foot to foot excitedly and bounds back into the living room. I clamber out of bed and grab my robe hanging on the back of my door. A smart young man with a ponytail is standing in our living room clasping a large box.
"Hi," I mumble.
"I'll make you some tea." Kate scuttles off to the kitchen.
"Miss Steele?"
And I immediately know who the parcel is from.
"Yes," I answer cautiously.
"I have a package for you here, but I have to set it up and show you how to use it."
"Really? At this time?"
"Only following orders, ma'am." He smiles in a charming but professional he's-not-taking-any-crap way.
Did he just call me ma'am? Have I aged ten years overnight? If I have, it's that contract. My mouth puckers in disgust.
"Okay, what is it?"
"It's a MacBook Pro."
"Of course it is." I roll my eyes.
"These aren't available in the shops yet, ma'am; the very latest from Apple."
How come that does not surprise me? I sigh heavily.
"Just set it up on the dining table over there."
I wander into the kitchen to join Kate.
"What is it?" she says inquisitively, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. She's slept well, too.
"It's a laptop from Christian."
"Why's he sent you a laptop? You know you can use mine." She frowns.
Not for what he has in mind.
"Oh, it's only on loan. He wanted me to try it out." My excuse sounds feeble. But Kate nods her assent. Oh my … I have hoodwinked Katherine Kavanagh. A first. She hands me my tea.
The Mac laptop is sleek and silver and rather beautiful. It has a very large screen. Christian Grey likes scale—I think of his living area, in fact, his whole apartment.
"It's got the latest OS and a full suite of programs, plus a one-point-five terabyte hard drive so you'll have plenty of room, thirty-two gigs of RAM—what are you planning to use it for?"
"Uh … e-mail."
"E-mail!" he chokes, raising his eyebrows with a slightly sick look on his face.
"And maybe Internet research?" I shrug apologetically. He sighs.
"Well, this has full wireless N, and I've set it up with your Me account details. This baby is all ready to go, practically anywhere on the planet." He looks longingly at it.
"Me account?"
"Your new e-mail address."
I have an e-mail address?
He points to an icon on the screen and continues to talk at me, but it's like white noise. I haven't got a clue what he's saying, and in all honestly, I'm not interested. Just tell me how to switch it on and off—I'll figure out the rest. After all, I've been using Kate's for four years. Kate whistles, impressed when she sees it.
"This is next-generation tech." She raises her eyebrows at me. "Most women get flowers or maybe jewelry," she says suggestively, trying to suppress a smile.
I scowl at her but can't keep a straight face. We both burst into a fit of giggles, and computer man gapes at us, bemused. He finishes up and asks me to sign the delivery note.
As Kate shows him out, I sit with my cup of tea and open the e-mail program, and waiting for me is an e-mail from Christian. My heart leaps into my mouth. I have an e-mail from Christian Grey. Nervously, I open it.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Your New Computer
Date: May 22 2011 23:15
To: Anastasia Steele
Dear Miss Steele,
I trust you slept well. I hope that you put this laptop to good use, as discussed.
I look forward to dinner Wednesday.
Happy to answer any questions before then, via e-mail, should you so desire.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
I hit "reply."
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Your New Computer (on loan)
Date: May 23 2011 08:20
To: Christian Grey
I slept very well, thank you—for some strange reason—Sir. I understood that this computer was on loan, ergo not mine.
Ana
Almost instantaneously there is a response.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Your New Computer (on loan)
Date: May 23 2011 08:22
To: Anastasia Steele
The computer is on loan. Indefinitely, Miss Steele.
I note from your tone that you have read the documentation I gave you.
Do you have any questions so far?
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
I can't help but grin.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Inquiring Minds
Date: May 23 2011 08:25
To: Christian Grey
I have many questions, but not suitable for e-mail, and some of us have to work for a living.
I do not want or need a computer indefinitely.
Until later, good day. Sir.
Ana
His reply again is instant, and it makes me smile.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Your New Computer (again on loan)
Date: May 23 2011 08:26
To: Anastasia Steele
Laters, baby.
P.S.: I work for a living, too.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
I shut the computer down, grinning like an idiot. How can I resist playful Christian? I am going to be late for work. Well, it is my last week—Mr. and Mrs. Clayton will probably cut me some slack. I race into the shower, unable to shake my face-splitting grin. He e-mailed me. I'm like a small, giddy child. And all the contract angst fades. As I wash my hair, I try to think of what I could possibly ask him via e-mail. Surely it's better to talk these things through. Suppose someone hacked into his account? I flush at the thought. I dress quickly, shout a hasty good-bye to Kate, and I'm off to work my last week at Clayton's.
JOSÉ PHONES AT ELEVEN.
"Hey, are we doing coffee?" He sounds like the old José. José my friend, not a—what did Christian call him? Suitor. Ugh.
"Sure. I'm at work. Can you make it here for, say, twelve?"
"See you then."
He hangs up, and I go back to restocking the paintbrushes and thinking about Christian Grey and his contract.
José is punctual. He comes bounding into the shop like a gamboling dark-eyed puppy.
"Ana." He smiles his dazzling toothy all-Hispanic-American smile, and I can't be angry with him anymore.
"Hi, José." I hug him. "I'm starving. I'll just let Mrs. Clayton know I'm going for lunch."
As we stroll to the local coffee shop, I slip my arm through José's. I'm so grateful for his … normality. Someone I know and understand.
"Hey, Ana," he murmurs. "You've really forgiven me?"
"José, you know I can never stay mad at you for long."
He grins.
I CAN'T WAIT TO get home, the lure of e-mailing Christian, and maybe I can begin my research project. Kate is out somewhere, so I fire up the new laptop and open my e-mail. Sure enough, there's a message from Christian sitting in the inbox. I'm practically bouncing out of my seat with glee.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Working for a Living
Date: May 23 2011 17:24
To: Anastasia Steele
Dear Miss Steele,
I do hope you had a good day at work.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
I hit "reply."
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Working for Living
Date: May 23 2011 17:48
To: Christian Grey
Sir … I had a very good day at work.
Thank you.
Ana
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Do the Work!
Date: May 23 2011 17:50
To: Anastasia Steele
Miss Steele,
Delighted you had a good day.
While you are e-mailing, you are not researching.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Nuisance
Date: May 23 2011 17:53
To: Christian Grey
Mr. Grey, stop e-mailing me, and I can start my assignment.
I'd like another A.
Ana
I hug myself.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Impatient
Date: May 23 2011 17:55
To: Anastasia Steele
Miss Steele,
Stop e-mailing me—and do your assignment.
I'd like to award another A.
The first one was so well deserved. ;)
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
Christian Grey just sent me a winking smiley … Oh my. I fire up Google.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Internet Research
Date: May 23 2011 17:59
To: Christian Grey
Mr. Grey,
What would you suggest I put into a search engine?
Ana
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Internet Research
Date: May 23 2011 18:02
To: Anastasia Steele
Miss Steele,
Always start with Wikipedia.
No more e-mails unless you have questions.
Understood?
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Bossy!
Date: May 23 2011 18:04
To: Christian Grey
Yes … Sir.
You are so bossy.
Ana
From: Christian Grey
Subject: In Control
Date: May 23 2011 18:06
To: Anastasia Steele
Anastasia, you have no idea.
Well, maybe an inkling now.
Do the work.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
I type "Submissive" into Wikipedia.
Half an hour later, I feel slightly queasy and frankly shocked to my core. Do I really want this stuff in my head? Jeez—is this what he gets up to in the Red Room of Pain? I sit staring at the screen, and part of me, a very moist and integral part of me that I've only become acquainted with very recently, is seriously turned on. Oh my, some of this stuff is HOT. But is it for me? Holy shit … could I do this? I need space. I need to think.
For the first time in my life, I voluntarily go for a run. I find my nasty, never-used sneakers, some sweatpants, and a T-shirt. I put my hair in pigtails, blushing at the memories they bring back, and I plug in my iPod. I can't sit in front of that marvel of technology and look at or read any more disturbing material. I need to expend some of this excess, enervating energy. Quite frankly, I have a mind to run to the Heathman Hotel and just demand sex from the control freak. But that's five miles, and I don't think I'll be able to run one mile, let alone five, and, of course, he might turn me down, which would be beyond humiliating.
Kate is walking from her car as I head out of the door. She nearly drops her shopping bags when she sees me. Ana Steele in sneakers. I wave and don't stop for the inquisition. I need some serious alone time. Snow Patrol blaring in my ears, I set off into the opal and aquamarine dusk.
I pace through the park. What am I going to do? I want him, but on his terms? I just don't know. Perhaps I should negotiate what I want. Go through that ridiculous contract line by line and say what is acceptable and what isn't. My research has told me that legally it's unenforceable. He must know that. I figure that it just sets up the parameters of the relationship. It illustrates what I can expect from him and what he expects from me—my total submission. Am I prepared to give him that? Am I even capable?
I am plagued by one question—why is he like this? Is it because he was seduced at such a young age? I just don't know. He's still such a mystery.
I stop beside a large spruce and put my hands on my knees, breathing hard, dragging precious air into my lungs. Oh, this feels good, cathartic. I feel my resolve hardening. Yes. I need to tell him what's okay and what isn't. I need to e-mail him my thoughts, and then we can discuss these on Wednesday. I take a deep, cleansing breath, then jog back to the apartment.
Kate has been shopping, as only she can, for clothes for her vacation to Barbados. Mainly bikinis and matching sarongs. She will look fabulous in all of them, yet she still makes me sit and comment while she tries on each and every one. There are only so many ways one can say, "You look fabulous, Kate." She has a curvy, slim figure to die for. She doesn't do it on purpose, I know, but I haul my sorry, perspiration-clad ass into my room on the pretext of packing more boxes. Could I feel any more inadequate? Taking the awesome free technology with me, I set the laptop up on my desk. I e-mail Christian.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Shocked of WSUV
Date: May 23 2011 20:33
To: Christian Grey
Okay, I've seen enough.
It was nice knowing you.
Ana
I press "send," hugging myself, laughing at my little joke. Will he find it as funny? Oh, shit—probably not. Christian Grey is not famed for his sense of humor. But I know it exists, I've experienced it. Perhaps I've gone too far. I wait for his answer.
I wait … and wait. I glance at my alarm clock. Ten minutes have passed.
To distract myself from the anxiety that blooms in my belly, I start doing what I told Kate I would be doing—packing up my room. I begin by cramming my books into a crate. By nine, I've heard nothing. Perhaps he's out. I pout petulantly as I plug my iPod earbuds in, listen to Snow Patrol, and sit down at my small desk to reread the contract and make my comments.
I don't know why I glance up, maybe I catch a slight movement from the corner of my eye, I don't know, but when I do, he's standing in the doorway of my bedroom, watching me intently. He's wearing his gray flannel pants and a white linen shirt, gently twirling his car keys. I pull my earbuds out and freeze. Fuck!
"Good evening, Anastasia." His voice is cool, his expression completely guarded and unreadable. The capacity to speak deserts me. Damn Kate for letting him in here with no warning. Vaguely, I'm aware that I'm still in my sweats, unshowered, yucky, and he's just gloriously yummy, his pants doing that hanging from the hips thing, and what's more, he's here in my bedroom.
"I felt that your e-mail warranted a reply in person," he explains dryly.
I open my mouth and then close it again, twice. The joke is on me. Never in this or any alternative universe did I expect him to drop everything and turn up here.
"May I sit?" he asks, his eyes now dancing with humor—thank heavens—maybe he'll see the funny side?
I nod. The power of speech remains elusive. Christian Grey is sitting on my bed.
"I wondered what your bedroom would look like," he says.
I glance around it, plotting an escape route. No—there's still only the door or window. My room is functional but cozy—sparse white wicker furniture and a white iron double bed with a patchwork quilt, made by my mother when she was in her folksy Americana quilting phase. It's all pale blue and cream.
"It's very serene and peaceful in here," he murmurs. Not at the moment … not with you here.
Finally, my medulla oblongata recalls its purpose. I breathe. "How …?"
He smiles at me. "I'm still at the Heathman."
I know that.
"Would you like a drink?" Politeness wins out over everything else I'd like to say.
"No thank you, Anastasia." He smiles a dazzling, crooked smile, his head cocked slightly to one side.
Well, I might need one.
"So, it was nice knowing me?"
Holy cow, is he offended? I stare down at my fingers. How am I going to dig myself out of this? If I tell him it was a joke, I don't think he'll be impressed.
"I thought you'd reply by e-mail." My voice is small, pathetic.
"Are you biting your lower lip deliberately?" he asks darkly.
I blink up at him, gasping, freeing my lip.
"I wasn't aware I was biting my lip," I murmur softly.
My heart is pounding. I can feel that pull, that delicious electricity between us charging, filling the space with static. He's sitting so close to me, his eyes dark smoky gray, his elbows resting on his knees, his legs apart. Leaning forward, he slowly undoes one of my pigtails, his fingers freeing my hair. My breathing is shallow, and I cannot move. I watch hypnotized as his hand moves to my second pigtail, and pulling the hair tie, he loosens the braid with his long, skilled fingers.
"So you decided on some exercise," he breathes, his voice soft and melodious. His fingers gently tuck my hair behind my ear. "Why, Anastasia?" His fingers circle my ear, and very softly, rhythmically, he tugs my earlobe. It's so sexual.
"I needed time to think," I whisper. I'm all deer/headlights, moth/flame, bird/snake … and he knows exactly what he's doing to me.
"Think about what, Anastasia?"
"You."
"And you decided that it was nice knowing me? Do you mean knowing me in the biblical sense?"
Oh, shit. I flush.
"I didn't think you were familiar with the Bible."
"I went to Sunday school, Anastasia. It taught me a great deal."
"I don't remember reading about nipple clamps in the Bible. Perhaps you were taught from a modern translation."
His lips arch with a trace of a smile, and my eyes are drawn to his mouth.
"Well, I thought I should come and remind you how nice it was knowing me."
Holy crap. I stare at him openmouthed, and his fingers move from my ear to my chin.
"What do you say to that, Miss Steele?"
His eyes blaze at me, his challenge intrinsic in his stare. His lips are parted—he's waiting, coiled to strike. Desire—acute, liquid, and smoldering—combusts deep in my belly. I take preemptive action and launch myself at him. Somehow he moves, I have no idea how, and in the blink of an eye I'm on the bed, pinned beneath him, my arms stretched out and held above my head, his free hand clutching my face, and his mouth finding mine.
His tongue is in my mouth, claiming and possessing me, and I revel in the force he uses. I feel him against the length of my body. He wants me, and this does strange, delicious things to my insides. Not Kate in her little bikinis, not one of the fifteen, not evil Mrs. Robinson. Me. This beautiful man wants me. My inner goddess glows so bright she could light up Portland. He stops kissing me, and opening my eyes, I find him gazing down at me.
"Trust me?" he breathes.
I nod, wide-eyed, my heart bouncing off my ribs, my blood thundering through my body.
He reaches down, and from his pants pocket, he takes out his silver-gray silk tie … that silver-gray woven tie that leaves small impressions of its weave on my skin. He moves so quickly, sitting astride me as he fastens my wrists together, but this time, he ties the other end of the tie to one of the spokes of my white iron headboard. He pulls at my binding, checking it's secure. I'm not going anywhere. I'm tied, literally, to my bed, and I'm so aroused.
He slides off me and stands beside the bed, staring down at me, his eyes dark with want. His look is triumphant mixed with relief.
"That's better," he murmurs, and smiles a wicked, knowing smile. He bends and starts undoing one of my sneakers. Oh no … no … my feet. No. I've just been running.
"No," I protest, trying to kick him off.
He stops.
"If you struggle, I'll tie your feet, too. If you make a noise, Anastasia, I will gag you. Keep quiet. Katherine is probably outside listening right now."
Gag me! Kate! I shut up.
He removes my shoes and my socks efficiently and slowly peels off my sweatpants. Oh—what panties am I wearing? He lifts me and pulls the quilt and my duvet out from underneath me and places me back down, this time on the sheets.
"Now then." He licks his bottom lip slowly. "You're biting that lip, Anastasia. You know the effect it has on me." He places his long index finger over my mouth, a warning.
NOVEL - FIFTY SHADES OF GREY
AUTHOR - E L JAMES
Please report us if you find any errors so we can fix it asap!
KATE WAKES ME THE next day.
"Ana, I've been calling you. You must have been out cold."
My eyes reluctantly open. She's not just up—she's been for a run. I glance at my alarm. It's eight in the morning. Holy Moses, I've slept for a solid nine hours.
"What is it?" I mumble sleepily.
"There's a man here with a delivery for you. You have to sign for it."
"What?"
"Come on. It's big. It looks interesting." She hops from foot to foot excitedly and bounds back into the living room. I clamber out of bed and grab my robe hanging on the back of my door. A smart young man with a ponytail is standing in our living room clasping a large box.
"Hi," I mumble.
"I'll make you some tea." Kate scuttles off to the kitchen.
"Miss Steele?"
And I immediately know who the parcel is from.
"Yes," I answer cautiously.
"I have a package for you here, but I have to set it up and show you how to use it."
"Really? At this time?"
"Only following orders, ma'am." He smiles in a charming but professional he's-not-taking-any-crap way.
Did he just call me ma'am? Have I aged ten years overnight? If I have, it's that contract. My mouth puckers in disgust.
"Okay, what is it?"
"It's a MacBook Pro."
"Of course it is." I roll my eyes.
"These aren't available in the shops yet, ma'am; the very latest from Apple."
How come that does not surprise me? I sigh heavily.
"Just set it up on the dining table over there."
I wander into the kitchen to join Kate.
"What is it?" she says inquisitively, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. She's slept well, too.
"It's a laptop from Christian."
"Why's he sent you a laptop? You know you can use mine." She frowns.
Not for what he has in mind.
"Oh, it's only on loan. He wanted me to try it out." My excuse sounds feeble. But Kate nods her assent. Oh my … I have hoodwinked Katherine Kavanagh. A first. She hands me my tea.
The Mac laptop is sleek and silver and rather beautiful. It has a very large screen. Christian Grey likes scale—I think of his living area, in fact, his whole apartment.
"It's got the latest OS and a full suite of programs, plus a one-point-five terabyte hard drive so you'll have plenty of room, thirty-two gigs of RAM—what are you planning to use it for?"
"Uh … e-mail."
"E-mail!" he chokes, raising his eyebrows with a slightly sick look on his face.
"And maybe Internet research?" I shrug apologetically. He sighs.
"Well, this has full wireless N, and I've set it up with your Me account details. This baby is all ready to go, practically anywhere on the planet." He looks longingly at it.
"Me account?"
"Your new e-mail address."
I have an e-mail address?
He points to an icon on the screen and continues to talk at me, but it's like white noise. I haven't got a clue what he's saying, and in all honestly, I'm not interested. Just tell me how to switch it on and off—I'll figure out the rest. After all, I've been using Kate's for four years. Kate whistles, impressed when she sees it.
"This is next-generation tech." She raises her eyebrows at me. "Most women get flowers or maybe jewelry," she says suggestively, trying to suppress a smile.
I scowl at her but can't keep a straight face. We both burst into a fit of giggles, and computer man gapes at us, bemused. He finishes up and asks me to sign the delivery note.
As Kate shows him out, I sit with my cup of tea and open the e-mail program, and waiting for me is an e-mail from Christian. My heart leaps into my mouth. I have an e-mail from Christian Grey. Nervously, I open it.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Your New Computer
Date: May 22 2011 23:15
To: Anastasia Steele
Dear Miss Steele,
I trust you slept well. I hope that you put this laptop to good use, as discussed.
I look forward to dinner Wednesday.
Happy to answer any questions before then, via e-mail, should you so desire.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
I hit "reply."
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Your New Computer (on loan)
Date: May 23 2011 08:20
To: Christian Grey
I slept very well, thank you—for some strange reason—Sir. I understood that this computer was on loan, ergo not mine.
Ana
Almost instantaneously there is a response.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Your New Computer (on loan)
Date: May 23 2011 08:22
To: Anastasia Steele
The computer is on loan. Indefinitely, Miss Steele.
I note from your tone that you have read the documentation I gave you.
Do you have any questions so far?
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
I can't help but grin.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Inquiring Minds
Date: May 23 2011 08:25
To: Christian Grey
I have many questions, but not suitable for e-mail, and some of us have to work for a living.
I do not want or need a computer indefinitely.
Until later, good day. Sir.
Ana
His reply again is instant, and it makes me smile.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Your New Computer (again on loan)
Date: May 23 2011 08:26
To: Anastasia Steele
Laters, baby.
P.S.: I work for a living, too.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
I shut the computer down, grinning like an idiot. How can I resist playful Christian? I am going to be late for work. Well, it is my last week—Mr. and Mrs. Clayton will probably cut me some slack. I race into the shower, unable to shake my face-splitting grin. He e-mailed me. I'm like a small, giddy child. And all the contract angst fades. As I wash my hair, I try to think of what I could possibly ask him via e-mail. Surely it's better to talk these things through. Suppose someone hacked into his account? I flush at the thought. I dress quickly, shout a hasty good-bye to Kate, and I'm off to work my last week at Clayton's.
JOSÉ PHONES AT ELEVEN.
"Hey, are we doing coffee?" He sounds like the old José. José my friend, not a—what did Christian call him? Suitor. Ugh.
"Sure. I'm at work. Can you make it here for, say, twelve?"
"See you then."
He hangs up, and I go back to restocking the paintbrushes and thinking about Christian Grey and his contract.
José is punctual. He comes bounding into the shop like a gamboling dark-eyed puppy.
"Ana." He smiles his dazzling toothy all-Hispanic-American smile, and I can't be angry with him anymore.
"Hi, José." I hug him. "I'm starving. I'll just let Mrs. Clayton know I'm going for lunch."
As we stroll to the local coffee shop, I slip my arm through José's. I'm so grateful for his … normality. Someone I know and understand.
"Hey, Ana," he murmurs. "You've really forgiven me?"
"José, you know I can never stay mad at you for long."
He grins.
I CAN'T WAIT TO get home, the lure of e-mailing Christian, and maybe I can begin my research project. Kate is out somewhere, so I fire up the new laptop and open my e-mail. Sure enough, there's a message from Christian sitting in the inbox. I'm practically bouncing out of my seat with glee.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Working for a Living
Date: May 23 2011 17:24
To: Anastasia Steele
Dear Miss Steele,
I do hope you had a good day at work.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
I hit "reply."
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Working for Living
Date: May 23 2011 17:48
To: Christian Grey
Sir … I had a very good day at work.
Thank you.
Ana
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Do the Work!
Date: May 23 2011 17:50
To: Anastasia Steele
Miss Steele,
Delighted you had a good day.
While you are e-mailing, you are not researching.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Nuisance
Date: May 23 2011 17:53
To: Christian Grey
Mr. Grey, stop e-mailing me, and I can start my assignment.
I'd like another A.
Ana
I hug myself.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Impatient
Date: May 23 2011 17:55
To: Anastasia Steele
Miss Steele,
Stop e-mailing me—and do your assignment.
I'd like to award another A.
The first one was so well deserved. ;)
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
Christian Grey just sent me a winking smiley … Oh my. I fire up Google.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Internet Research
Date: May 23 2011 17:59
To: Christian Grey
Mr. Grey,
What would you suggest I put into a search engine?
Ana
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Internet Research
Date: May 23 2011 18:02
To: Anastasia Steele
Miss Steele,
Always start with Wikipedia.
No more e-mails unless you have questions.
Understood?
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Bossy!
Date: May 23 2011 18:04
To: Christian Grey
Yes … Sir.
You are so bossy.
Ana
From: Christian Grey
Subject: In Control
Date: May 23 2011 18:06
To: Anastasia Steele
Anastasia, you have no idea.
Well, maybe an inkling now.
Do the work.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
I type "Submissive" into Wikipedia.
Half an hour later, I feel slightly queasy and frankly shocked to my core. Do I really want this stuff in my head? Jeez—is this what he gets up to in the Red Room of Pain? I sit staring at the screen, and part of me, a very moist and integral part of me that I've only become acquainted with very recently, is seriously turned on. Oh my, some of this stuff is HOT. But is it for me? Holy shit … could I do this? I need space. I need to think.
For the first time in my life, I voluntarily go for a run. I find my nasty, never-used sneakers, some sweatpants, and a T-shirt. I put my hair in pigtails, blushing at the memories they bring back, and I plug in my iPod. I can't sit in front of that marvel of technology and look at or read any more disturbing material. I need to expend some of this excess, enervating energy. Quite frankly, I have a mind to run to the Heathman Hotel and just demand sex from the control freak. But that's five miles, and I don't think I'll be able to run one mile, let alone five, and, of course, he might turn me down, which would be beyond humiliating.
Kate is walking from her car as I head out of the door. She nearly drops her shopping bags when she sees me. Ana Steele in sneakers. I wave and don't stop for the inquisition. I need some serious alone time. Snow Patrol blaring in my ears, I set off into the opal and aquamarine dusk.
I pace through the park. What am I going to do? I want him, but on his terms? I just don't know. Perhaps I should negotiate what I want. Go through that ridiculous contract line by line and say what is acceptable and what isn't. My research has told me that legally it's unenforceable. He must know that. I figure that it just sets up the parameters of the relationship. It illustrates what I can expect from him and what he expects from me—my total submission. Am I prepared to give him that? Am I even capable?
I am plagued by one question—why is he like this? Is it because he was seduced at such a young age? I just don't know. He's still such a mystery.
I stop beside a large spruce and put my hands on my knees, breathing hard, dragging precious air into my lungs. Oh, this feels good, cathartic. I feel my resolve hardening. Yes. I need to tell him what's okay and what isn't. I need to e-mail him my thoughts, and then we can discuss these on Wednesday. I take a deep, cleansing breath, then jog back to the apartment.
Kate has been shopping, as only she can, for clothes for her vacation to Barbados. Mainly bikinis and matching sarongs. She will look fabulous in all of them, yet she still makes me sit and comment while she tries on each and every one. There are only so many ways one can say, "You look fabulous, Kate." She has a curvy, slim figure to die for. She doesn't do it on purpose, I know, but I haul my sorry, perspiration-clad ass into my room on the pretext of packing more boxes. Could I feel any more inadequate? Taking the awesome free technology with me, I set the laptop up on my desk. I e-mail Christian.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Shocked of WSUV
Date: May 23 2011 20:33
To: Christian Grey
Okay, I've seen enough.
It was nice knowing you.
Ana
I press "send," hugging myself, laughing at my little joke. Will he find it as funny? Oh, shit—probably not. Christian Grey is not famed for his sense of humor. But I know it exists, I've experienced it. Perhaps I've gone too far. I wait for his answer.
I wait … and wait. I glance at my alarm clock. Ten minutes have passed.
To distract myself from the anxiety that blooms in my belly, I start doing what I told Kate I would be doing—packing up my room. I begin by cramming my books into a crate. By nine, I've heard nothing. Perhaps he's out. I pout petulantly as I plug my iPod earbuds in, listen to Snow Patrol, and sit down at my small desk to reread the contract and make my comments.
I don't know why I glance up, maybe I catch a slight movement from the corner of my eye, I don't know, but when I do, he's standing in the doorway of my bedroom, watching me intently. He's wearing his gray flannel pants and a white linen shirt, gently twirling his car keys. I pull my earbuds out and freeze. Fuck!
"Good evening, Anastasia." His voice is cool, his expression completely guarded and unreadable. The capacity to speak deserts me. Damn Kate for letting him in here with no warning. Vaguely, I'm aware that I'm still in my sweats, unshowered, yucky, and he's just gloriously yummy, his pants doing that hanging from the hips thing, and what's more, he's here in my bedroom.
"I felt that your e-mail warranted a reply in person," he explains dryly.
I open my mouth and then close it again, twice. The joke is on me. Never in this or any alternative universe did I expect him to drop everything and turn up here.
"May I sit?" he asks, his eyes now dancing with humor—thank heavens—maybe he'll see the funny side?
I nod. The power of speech remains elusive. Christian Grey is sitting on my bed.
"I wondered what your bedroom would look like," he says.
I glance around it, plotting an escape route. No—there's still only the door or window. My room is functional but cozy—sparse white wicker furniture and a white iron double bed with a patchwork quilt, made by my mother when she was in her folksy Americana quilting phase. It's all pale blue and cream.
"It's very serene and peaceful in here," he murmurs. Not at the moment … not with you here.
Finally, my medulla oblongata recalls its purpose. I breathe. "How …?"
He smiles at me. "I'm still at the Heathman."
I know that.
"Would you like a drink?" Politeness wins out over everything else I'd like to say.
"No thank you, Anastasia." He smiles a dazzling, crooked smile, his head cocked slightly to one side.
Well, I might need one.
"So, it was nice knowing me?"
Holy cow, is he offended? I stare down at my fingers. How am I going to dig myself out of this? If I tell him it was a joke, I don't think he'll be impressed.
"I thought you'd reply by e-mail." My voice is small, pathetic.
"Are you biting your lower lip deliberately?" he asks darkly.
I blink up at him, gasping, freeing my lip.
"I wasn't aware I was biting my lip," I murmur softly.
My heart is pounding. I can feel that pull, that delicious electricity between us charging, filling the space with static. He's sitting so close to me, his eyes dark smoky gray, his elbows resting on his knees, his legs apart. Leaning forward, he slowly undoes one of my pigtails, his fingers freeing my hair. My breathing is shallow, and I cannot move. I watch hypnotized as his hand moves to my second pigtail, and pulling the hair tie, he loosens the braid with his long, skilled fingers.
"So you decided on some exercise," he breathes, his voice soft and melodious. His fingers gently tuck my hair behind my ear. "Why, Anastasia?" His fingers circle my ear, and very softly, rhythmically, he tugs my earlobe. It's so sexual.
"I needed time to think," I whisper. I'm all deer/headlights, moth/flame, bird/snake … and he knows exactly what he's doing to me.
"Think about what, Anastasia?"
"You."
"And you decided that it was nice knowing me? Do you mean knowing me in the biblical sense?"
Oh, shit. I flush.
"I didn't think you were familiar with the Bible."
"I went to Sunday school, Anastasia. It taught me a great deal."
"I don't remember reading about nipple clamps in the Bible. Perhaps you were taught from a modern translation."
His lips arch with a trace of a smile, and my eyes are drawn to his mouth.
"Well, I thought I should come and remind you how nice it was knowing me."
Holy crap. I stare at him openmouthed, and his fingers move from my ear to my chin.
"What do you say to that, Miss Steele?"
His eyes blaze at me, his challenge intrinsic in his stare. His lips are parted—he's waiting, coiled to strike. Desire—acute, liquid, and smoldering—combusts deep in my belly. I take preemptive action and launch myself at him. Somehow he moves, I have no idea how, and in the blink of an eye I'm on the bed, pinned beneath him, my arms stretched out and held above my head, his free hand clutching my face, and his mouth finding mine.
His tongue is in my mouth, claiming and possessing me, and I revel in the force he uses. I feel him against the length of my body. He wants me, and this does strange, delicious things to my insides. Not Kate in her little bikinis, not one of the fifteen, not evil Mrs. Robinson. Me. This beautiful man wants me. My inner goddess glows so bright she could light up Portland. He stops kissing me, and opening my eyes, I find him gazing down at me.
"Trust me?" he breathes.
I nod, wide-eyed, my heart bouncing off my ribs, my blood thundering through my body.
He reaches down, and from his pants pocket, he takes out his silver-gray silk tie … that silver-gray woven tie that leaves small impressions of its weave on my skin. He moves so quickly, sitting astride me as he fastens my wrists together, but this time, he ties the other end of the tie to one of the spokes of my white iron headboard. He pulls at my binding, checking it's secure. I'm not going anywhere. I'm tied, literally, to my bed, and I'm so aroused.
He slides off me and stands beside the bed, staring down at me, his eyes dark with want. His look is triumphant mixed with relief.
"That's better," he murmurs, and smiles a wicked, knowing smile. He bends and starts undoing one of my sneakers. Oh no … no … my feet. No. I've just been running.
"No," I protest, trying to kick him off.
He stops.
"If you struggle, I'll tie your feet, too. If you make a noise, Anastasia, I will gag you. Keep quiet. Katherine is probably outside listening right now."
Gag me! Kate! I shut up.
He removes my shoes and my socks efficiently and slowly peels off my sweatpants. Oh—what panties am I wearing? He lifts me and pulls the quilt and my duvet out from underneath me and places me back down, this time on the sheets.
"Now then." He licks his bottom lip slowly. "You're biting that lip, Anastasia. You know the effect it has on me." He places his long index finger over my mouth, a warning.
NOVEL - FIFTY SHADES OF GREY
AUTHOR - E L JAMES
KATE WAKES ME THE next day."Ana, I've been calling you. You must have been out cold."My eyes reluctantly open. She's not just upshe's been for a run. I glance at my alarm. It's eight in the morning. Holy Moses, I've slept for a solid nine hours."What is it?" I mumble sleepily."There's a man here with a delivery for you. You have to sign for it.""What?""Come on. It's big. It looks interesting." She hops from foot to foot excitedly and bounds back into the living room. I clamber out of bed and grab my robe hanging on the back of my door. A smart young man with a ponytail is standing in our living room clasping a large box."Hi," I mumble."I'll make you some tea." Kate scuttles off to the kitchen."Miss Steele?"And I immediately know who the parcel is from."Yes," I answer cautiously."I have a package for you here, but I have to set it up and show you how to use it.""Really? At this time?""Only following orders, ma'am." He smiles in a charming but professional he's-not-taking-any-crap way.Did he just call me ma'am? Have I aged ten years overnight? If I have, it's that contract. My mouth puckers in disgust."Okay, what is it?""It's a MacBook Pro.""Of course it is." I roll my eyes."These aren't available in the shops yet, ma'am; the very latest from Apple."How come that does not surprise me? I sigh heavily."Just set it up on the dining table over there."I wander into the kitchen to join Kate. "What is it?" she says inquisitively, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. She's slept well, too."It's a laptop from Christian.""Why's he sent you a laptop? You know you can use mine." She frowns.Not for what he has in mind."Oh, it's only on loan. He wanted me to try it out." My excuse sounds feeble. But Kate nods her assent. Oh myI have hoodwinked Katherine Kavanagh. A first. She hands me my tea.The Mac laptop is sleek and silver and rather beautiful. It has a very large screen. Christian Grey likes scaleI think of his living area, in fact, his whole apartment."It's got the latest OS and a full suite of programs, plus a one-point-five terabyte hard drive so you'll have plenty of room, thirty-two gigs of RAMwhat are you planning to use it for?""Uhe-mail.""E-mail!" he chokes, raising his eyebrows with a slightly sick look on his face."And maybe Internet research?" I shrug apologetically. He sighs."Well, this has full wireless N, and I've set it up with your Me account details. This baby is all ready to go, practically anywhere on the planet." He looks longingly at it."Me account?""Your new e-mail address."I have an e-mail address?He points to an icon on the screen and continues to talk at me, but it's like white noise. I haven't got a clue what he's saying, and in all honestly, I'm not interested. Just tell me how to switch it on and offI'll figure out the rest. After all, I've been using Kate's for four years. Kate whistles, impressed when she sees it."This is next-generation tech." She raises her eyebrows at me. "Most women get flowers or maybe jewelry," she says suggestively, trying to suppress a smile.I scowl at her but can't keep a straight face. We both burst into a fit of giggles, and computer man gapes at us, bemused. He finishes up and asks me to sign the delivery note.As Kate shows him out, I sit with my cup of tea and open the e-mail program, and waiting for me is an e-mail from Christian. My heart leaps into my mouth. I have an e-mail from Christian Grey. Nervously, I open it.From: Christian GreySubject: Your New ComputerDate: May 22 2011 23:15To: Anastasia Steele Dear Miss Steele,I trust you slept well. I hope that you put this laptop to good use, as discussed.I look forward to dinner Wednesday.Happy to answer any questions before then, via e-mail, should you so desire.Christian GreyCEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.I hit "reply."From: Anastasia SteeleSubject: Your New Computer on loanDate: May 23 2011 08:20To: Christian GreyI slept very well, thank youfor some strange reasonSir. I understood that this computer was on loan, ergo not mine.AnaAlmost instantaneously there is a response.From: Christian GreySubject: Your New Computer on loanDate: May 23 2011 08:22To: Anastasia SteeleThe computer is on loan. Indefinitely, Miss Steele.I note from your tone that you have read the documentation I gave you.Do you have any questions so far?Christian GreyCEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.I can't help but grin.From: Anastasia SteeleSubject: Inquiring MindsDate: May 23 2011 08:25To: Christian GreyI have many questions, but not suitable for e-mail, and some of us have to work for a living.I do not want or need a computer indefinitely.Until later, good day. Sir.AnaHis reply again is instant, and it makes me smile.From: Christian GreySubject: Your New Computer again on loanDate: May 23 2011 08:26To: Anastasia SteeleLaters, baby.P.S.: I work for a living, too.Christian GreyCEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.I shut the computer down, grinning like an idiot. How can I resist playful Christian? I am going to be late for work. Well, it is my last weekMr. and Mrs. Clayton will probably cut me some slack. I race into the shower, unable to shake my face-splitting grin. He e-mailed me. I'm like a small, giddy child. And all the contract angst fades. As I wash my hair, I try to think of what I could possibly ask him via e-mail. Surely it's better to talk these things through. Suppose someone hacked into his account? I flush at the thought. I dress quickly, shout a hasty good-bye to Kate, and I'm off to work my last week at Clayton's.JOS PHONES AT ELEVEN."Hey, are we doing coffee?" He sounds like the old Jos. Jos my friend, not awhat did Christian call him? Suitor. Ugh."Sure. I'm at work. Can you make it here for, say, twelve?""See you then."He hangs up, and I go back to restocking the paintbrushes and thinking about Christian Grey and his contract.Jos is punctual. He comes bounding into the shop like a gamboling dark-eyed puppy."Ana." He smiles his dazzling toothy all-Hispanic-American smile, and I can't be angry with him anymore."Hi, Jos." I hug him. "I'm starving. I'll just let Mrs. Clayton know I'm going for lunch."As we stroll to the local coffee shop, I slip my arm through Jos's. I'm so grateful for hisnormality. Someone I know and understand."Hey, Ana," he murmurs. "You've really forgiven me?""Jos, you know I can never stay mad at you for long."He grins.I CAN'T WAIT TO get home, the lure of e-mailing Christian, and maybe I can begin my research project. Kate is out somewhere, so I fire up the new laptop and open my e-mail. Sure enough, there's a message from Christian sitting in the inbox. I'm practically bouncing out of my seat with glee.From: Christian GreySubject: Working for a LivingDate: May 23 2011 17:24To: Anastasia SteeleDear Miss Steele,I do hope you had a good day at work.Christian GreyCEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.I hit "reply."From: Anastasia SteeleSubject: Working for LivingDate: May 23 2011 17:48To: Christian GreySir I had a very good day at work.Thank you.AnaFrom: Christian GreySubject: Do the Work!Date: May 23 2011 17:50To: Anastasia SteeleMiss Steele,Delighted you had a good day.While you are e-mailing, you are not researching.Christian Grey CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.From: Anastasia SteeleSubject: NuisanceDate: May 23 2011 17:53To: Christian GreyMr. Grey, stop e-mailing me, and I can start my assignment.I'd like another A.AnaI hug myself.From: Christian GreySubject: ImpatientDate: May 23 2011 17:55To: Anastasia SteeleMiss Steele,Stop e-mailing meand do your assignment.I'd like to award another A.The first one was so well deserved. ;Christian GreyCEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.Christian Grey just sent me a winking smileyOh my. I fire up Google.From: Anastasia SteeleSubject: Internet ResearchDate: May 23 2011 17:59To: Christian GreyMr. Grey,What would you suggest I put into a search engine?AnaFrom: Christian GreySubject: Internet ResearchDate: May 23 2011 18:02To: Anastasia Steele Miss Steele,Always start with Wikipedia.No more e-mails unless you have questions.Understood?Christian GreyCEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.From: Anastasia SteeleSubject: Bossy!Date: May 23 2011 18:04To: Christian GreyYesSir.You are so bossy.AnaFrom: Christian GreySubject: In ControlDate: May 23 2011 18:06To: Anastasia SteeleAnastasia, you have no idea.Well, maybe an inkling now.Do the work.Christian GreyCEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.I type "Submissive" into Wikipedia.Half an hour later, I feel slightly queasy and frankly shocked to my core. Do I really want this stuff in my head? Jeezis this what he gets up to in the Red Room of Pain? I sit staring at the screen, and part of me, a very moist and integral part of me that I've only become acquainted with very recently, is seriously turned on. Oh my, some of this stuff is HOT. But is it for me? Holy shitcould I do this? I need space. I need to think. For the first time in my life, I voluntarily go for a run. I find my nasty, never-used sneakers, some sweatpants, and a T-shirt. I put my hair in pigtails, blushing at the memories they bring back, and I plug in my iPod. I can't sit in front of that marvel of technology and look at or read any more disturbing material. I need to expend some of this excess, enervating energy. Quite frankly, I have a mind to run to the Heathman Hotel and just demand sex from the control freak. But that's five miles, and I don't think I'll be able to run one mile, let alone five, and, of course, he might turn me down, which would be beyond humiliating.Kate is walking from her car as I head out of the door. She nearly drops her shopping bags when she sees me. Ana Steele in sneakers. I wave and don't stop for the inquisition. I need some serious alone time. Snow Patrol blaring in my ears, I set off into the opal and aquamarine dusk.I pace through the park. What am I going to do? I want him, but on his terms? I just don't know. Perhaps I should negotiate what I want. Go through that ridiculous contract line by line and say what is acceptable and what isn't. My research has told me that legally it's unenforceable. He must know that. I figure that it just sets up the parameters of the relationship. It illustrates what I can expect from him and what he expects from memy total submission. Am I prepared to give him that? Am I even capable?I am plagued by one questionwhy is he like this? Is it because he was seduced at such a young age? I just don't know. He's still such a mystery.I stop beside a large spruce and put my hands on my knees, breathing hard, dragging precious air into my lungs. Oh, this feels good, cathartic. I feel my resolve hardening. Yes. I need to tell him what's okay and what isn't. I need to e-mail him my thoughts, and then we can discuss these on Wednesday. I take a deep, cleansing breath, then jog back to the apartment.Kate has been shopping, as only she can, for clothes for her vacation to Barbados. Mainly bikinis and matching sarongs. She will look fabulous in all of them, yet she still makes me sit and comment while she tries on each and every one. There are only so many ways one can say, "You look fabulous, Kate." She has a curvy, slim figure to die for. She doesn't do it on purpose, I know, but I haul my sorry, perspiration-clad ass into my room on the pretext of packing more boxes. Could I feel any more inadequate? Taking the awesome free technology with me, I set the laptop up on my desk. I e-mail Christian.From: Anastasia SteeleSubject: Shocked of WSUVDate: May 23 2011 20:33To: Christian GreyOkay, I've seen enough. It was nice knowing you.AnaI press "send," hugging myself, laughing at my little joke. Will he find it as funny? Oh, shitprobably not. Christian Grey is not famed for his sense of humor. But I know it exists, I've experienced it. Perhaps I've gone too far. I wait for his answer.I waitand wait. I glance at my alarm clock. Ten minutes have passed.To distract myself from the anxiety that blooms in my belly, I start doing what I told Kate I would be doingpacking up my room. I begin by cramming my books into a crate. By nine, I've heard nothing. Perhaps he's out. I pout petulantly as I plug my iPod earbuds in, listen to Snow Patrol, and sit down at my small desk to reread the contract and make my comments.I don't know why I glance up, maybe I catch a slight movement from the corner of my eye, I don't know, but when I do, he's standing in the doorway of my bedroom, watching me intently. He's wearing his gray flannel pants and a white linen shirt, gently twirling his car keys. I pull my earbuds out and freeze. Fuck!"Good evening, Anastasia." His voice is cool, his expression completely guarded and unreadable. The capacity to speak deserts me. Damn Kate for letting him in here with no warning. Vaguely, I'm aware that I'm still in my sweats, unshowered, yucky, and he's just gloriously yummy, his pants doing that hanging from the hips thing, and what's more, he's here in my bedroom."I felt that your e-mail warranted a reply in person," he explains dryly.I open my mouth and then close it again, twice. The joke is on me. Never in this or any alternative universe did I expect him to drop everything and turn up here."May I sit?" he asks, his eyes now dancing with humorthank heavensmaybe he'll see the funny side?I nod. The power of speech remains elusive. Christian Grey is sitting on my bed."I wondered what your bedroom would look like," he says.I glance around it, plotting an escape route. Nothere's still only the door or window. My room is functional but cozysparse white wicker furniture and a white iron double bed with a patchwork quilt, made by my mother when she was in her folksy Americana quilting phase. It's all pale blue and cream."It's very serene and peaceful in here," he murmurs. Not at the momentnot with you here.Finally, my medulla oblongata recalls its purpose. I breathe. "How ?"He smiles at me. "I'm still at the Heathman."I know that."Would you like a drink?" Politeness wins out over everything else I'd like to say."No thank you, Anastasia." He smiles a dazzling, crooked smile, his head cocked slightly to one side. Well, I might need one."So, it was nice knowing me?"Holy cow, is he offended? I stare down at my fingers. How am I going to dig myself out of this? If I tell him it was a joke, I don't think he'll be impressed."I thought you'd reply by e-mail." My voice is small, pathetic."Are you biting your lower lip deliberately?" he asks darkly.I blink up at him, gasping, freeing my lip."I wasn't aware I was biting my lip," I murmur softly.My heart is pounding. I can feel that pull, that delicious electricity between us charging, filling the space with static. He's sitting so close to me, his eyes dark smoky gray, his elbows resting on his knees, his legs apart. Leaning forward, he slowly undoes one of my pigtails, his fingers freeing my hair. My breathing is shallow, and I cannot move. I watch hypnotized as his hand moves to my second pigtail, and pulling the hair tie, he loosens the braid with his long, skilled fingers."So you decided on some exercise," he breathes, his voice soft and melodious. His fingers gently tuck my hair behind my ear. "Why, Anastasia?" His fingers circle my ear, and very softly, rhythmically, he tugs my earlobe. It's so sexual."I needed time to think," I whisper. I'm all deer/headlights, moth/flame, bird/snakeand he knows exactly what he's doing to me."Think about what, Anastasia?""You.""And you decided that it was nice knowing me? Do you mean knowing me in the biblical sense?"Oh, shit. I flush."I didn't think you were familiar with the Bible.""I went to Sunday school, Anastasia. It taught me a great deal.""I don't remember reading about nipple clamps in the Bible. Perhaps you were taught from a modern translation."His lips arch with a trace of a smile, and my eyes are drawn to his mouth."Well, I thought I should come and remind you how nice it was knowing me."Holy crap. I stare at him openmouthed, and his fingers move from my ear to my chin."What do you say to that, Miss Steele?"His eyes blaze at me, his challenge intrinsic in his stare. His lips are partedhe's waiting, coiled to strike. Desireacute, liquid, and smolderingcombusts deep in my belly. I take preemptive action and launch myself at him. Somehow he moves, I have no idea how, and in the blink of an eye I'm on the bed, pinned beneath him, my arms stretched out and held above my head, his free hand clutching my face, and his mouth finding mine. His tongue is in my mouth, claiming and possessing me, and I revel in the force he uses. I feel him against the length of my body. He wants me, and this does strange, delicious things to my insides. Not Kate in her little bikinis, not one of the fifteen, not evil Mrs. Robinson. Me. This beautiful man wants me. My inner goddess glows so bright she could light up Portland. He stops kissing me, and opening my eyes, I find him gazing down at me."Trust me?" he breathes.I nod, wide-eyed, my heart bouncing off my ribs, my blood thundering through my body.He reaches down, and from his pants pocket, he takes out his silver-gray silk tiethat silver-gray woven tie that leaves small impressions of its weave on my skin. He moves so quickly, sitting astride me as he fastens my wrists together, but this time, he ties the other end of the tie to one of the spokes of my white iron headboard. He pulls at my binding, checking it's secure. I'm not going anywhere. I'm tied, literally, to my bed, and I'm so aroused.He slides off me and stands beside the bed, staring down at me, his eyes dark with want. His look is triumphant mixed with relief."That's better," he murmurs, and smiles a wicked, knowing smile. He bends and starts undoing one of my sneakers. Oh nonomy feet. No. I've just been running."No," I protest, trying to kick him off.He stops."If you struggle, I'll tie your feet, too. If you make a noise, Anastasia, I will gag you. Keep quiet. Katherine is probably outside listening right now."Gag me! Kate! I shut up.He removes my shoes and my socks efficiently and slowly peels off my sweatpants. Ohwhat panties am I wearing? He lifts me and pulls the quilt and my duvet out from underneath me and places me back down, this time on the sheets."Now then." He licks his bottom lip slowly. "You're biting that lip, Anastasia. You know the effect it has on me." He places his long index finger over my mouth, a warning. NOVEL - FIFTY SHADES OF GREY AUTHOR - E L JAMES
