“Yes.” She sounds drowsy.
“You should be in silks and satins, you beautiful girl. I’ll take you shopping.”
“I like my sweats,” she argues.
Of course she does.
I kiss her hair. “We’ll see.”
Closing my eyes, I relax in our quiet moment, a strange contentment warming me, filling me up inside.
This feels right. Too right.
“I have to go,” I murmur, and kiss her forehead. “Are you okay?”
“I’m okay,” she says, sounding a little subdued.
Gently I roll out from underneath her and get up. “Where’s your bathroom?” I ask, taking off the used condom and zipping up my jeans.
“Down the hall to the left.”
In the bathroom I discard the condoms in a trash bin and spy a bottle of baby oil on the shelf.
That’s what I need.
She’s dressed when I return, evading my gaze. Why so shy suddenly?
“I found some baby oil. Let me rub it into your behind.”
“No. I’ll be fine,” she says, examining her fingers, still avoiding eye contact.
“Anastasia,” I warn her.
Please just do as you’re told.
I sit down behind her and tug down her sweatpants. Squirting some baby oil on my hand, I rub it tenderly into her sore ass.
She puts her hands on her hips in an obstinate stance, but stays silent.
“I like my hands on you,” I admit out loud to myself. “There.” I pull her sweatpants up. “I’m leaving now.”
“I’ll see you out,” she says quietly, standing aside. I take her hand and reluctantly let go when we reach the front door. Part of me doesn’t want to leave.
“Don’t you have to call Taylor?” she asks, her eyes fixed on the zipper of my leather jacket.
“Taylor’s been here since nine. Look at me.”
Large blue eyes peek up at me through long, dark lashes.
“You didn’t cry.” My voice is low.
And you let me spank you. You’re amazing.
I grab her and kiss her, pouring my gratitude into the kiss and holding her close. “Sunday,” I whisper, fevered, against her lips. I release her abruptly before I’m tempted to ask her if I can stay, and I head out to where Taylor is waiting in the SUV. Once I’m in the car I look back, but she’s gone. She’s probably tired…like me.
Pleasantly tired.
That has to have been the most pleasurable “soft limits” conversation I’ve ever had.
Damn, that woman is unexpected. Closing my eyes, I see her riding me, her head tipped back in ecstasy. Ana does not do things halfheartedly. She commits. And to think she had sex for the first time only a week ago.
With me. And no one else.
I grin as I stare out the car window, but all I see is my ghostly face reflected in the glass. So I close my eyes and allow myself to daydream.
Training her will be fun.
TAYLOR WAKES ME FROM my doze. “We’re here, Mr. Grey.”
“Thank you,” I mumble. “I have a meeting in the morning.”
“At the hotel?”
“Yes. Videoconference. I won’t need to be driven anywhere. But I’d like to leave before lunch.”
“What time would you like me to pack?”
“Ten thirty.”
“Very good, sir. The BlackBerry you asked for will be delivered to Miss Steele tomorrow.”
“Good. That reminds me. Can you collect her old Beetle tomorrow and dispose of it? I don’t want her driving it.”
“Of course. I have a friend who restores vintage cars. He might be interested. I’ll deal with it. Will there be anything else?”
“No thank you. Good night.”
“Good night.”
I leave Taylor to park the SUV and make my way up to my suite.
Opening a bottle of sparkling water from the fridge, I sit down at the desk and switch on my laptop.
No urgent e-mails.
But my real purpose is to say good night to Ana.
* * *
From: Christian Grey
Subject: You
Date: May 26 2011 23:14
To: Anastasia Steele
Dear Miss Steele,
You are quite simply exquisite. The most beautiful, intelligent, witty, and brave woman I have ever met. Take some Advil—this is not a request. And don’t drive your Beetle again. I will know.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
She’ll probably be asleep, but I keep my laptop open just in case and check e-mail. A few minutes later her response arrives.
* * *
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Flattery
Date: May 26 2011 23:20
To: Christian Grey
Dear Mr. Grey,
Flattery will get you nowhere, but since you’ve been everywhere, the point is moot.
I will need to drive my Beetle to a garage so I can sell it—so will not graciously accept any of your nonsense over that. Red wine is always more preferable to Advil.
Ana
P.S.: Caning is a HARD limit for me.
Her opening line makes me laugh out loud. Oh, baby, I have not been everywhere I want to go with you. Red wine on top of champagne? Not a clever mix, and caning is off the list. I wonder what else she’ll object to as I compose my reply.
* * *
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Frustrating Women Who Can’t Take Compliments
Date: May 26 2011 23:26
To: Anastasia Steele
Dear Miss Steele,
I am not flattering you. You should go to bed.
I accept your addition to the hard limits.
Don’t drink too much.
Taylor will dispose of your car and get a good price for it, too.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.