face is intermittently in the light and the dark. And it’s such a fitting metaphor. This man, whom I once thought of as a romantic hero, a brave shining white knight - or the dark knight as he said. He’s not a hero; he’s a man with serious, deep emotional flaws, and he’s dragging me into the dark. Can I not guide him into the light?
“I still want more,” I whisper.
“I know,” he says. “I’ll try.”
I blink up at him, and he relinquishes my hand and pulls at my chin, releasing my trapped lip.
“For you, Anastasia, I will try.” He’s radiating sincerity.
And that’s my cue. I unbuckle my seatbelt, reach across, and clamber into his lap, taking him completely by surprise. Wrapping my arms around his head, I kiss him, long and hard, and in a nanosecond, he’s responding.
“Stay with me, tonight,” he breathes. “If you go away, I won’t see you all week. Please.”
“Yes,” I acquiesce. “And I’ll try, too. I’ll sign your contract.” And it’s a spur of the moment decision.
He gazes down at me.
“Sign after Georgia. Think about it. Think about it hard, baby.”
“I will.” And we sit in silence for a mile or two.
“You really should wear your seatbelt,” Christian whispers disapprovingly into my hair, but he makes no move to shift me from his lap.
I nuzzle up against him, eyes closed, my nose at his throat, drinking in his sexy Christian-and-spiced-musky-body-wash fragrance, my head on his shoulder. I let my mind drift, and I allow myself to fantasize that he loves me. Oh, and it’s so real, tangible almost, and a small part of my nasty harpy self-conscious acts completely out of character and dares to hope. I’m careful not to touch his chest but just snuggle in his arms as he holds me tightly.
All too soon, I’m torn from my impossible daydream.
“We’re home,” Christian murmurs, and it’s such a tantalizing sentence, full of so much potential.
Home, with Christian. Except his apartment is an art gallery, not a home.
Taylor opens the door for us, and I thank him shyly, aware that he’s been within earshot of our conversation, but his kind smile is reassuring and gives nothing away. Once out of the car, Christian assesses me critically. Oh no… what have I done now?
“Why don’t you have a jacket?” he frowns as he shrugs out of his and drapes it over my shoulders.
Relief washes through me.
“It’s in my new car,” I reply sleepily, yawning.
He smirks at me.
“Tired, Miss Steele?”
“Yes, Mr. Grey.” I feel bashful under his teasing scrutiny. Nevertheless I feel an explanation is in order. “I’ve been prevailed upon in ways I never thought possible today.”
“Well, if you’re really unlucky, I may prevail upon you some more,” he promises as he takes my hand and leads me into the building. Holy Shit… Again?!
I gaze up at him in the elevator. I have assumed he’d like me to sleep with him, and then I remember that he doesn’t sleep with anyone, although he has with me a few times. I frown, and abruptly his gaze darkens. He reaches up and grasps my chin, freeing my lip from teeth.
“One day I will fuck you in this elevator, Anastasia, but right now you’re tired – so I think we should stick to a bed.”
Bending down, he clamps his teeth around my lower lip and pulls gently. I melt against him, and my breathing stops as my insides unfurl with longing. I reciprocate, fastening my teeth over his top lip, teasing him, and he groans. When the elevator doors open, he grabs my hand and tugs me into the foyer, through the double doors, and into the hallway.
“Do you need a drink or anything?”
“No.”
“Good. Let’s go to bed.”
I raise my eyebrows at him.
“You’re going to settle for plain old vanilla?”
He cocks his head to one side.
“Nothing plain or old about vanilla – it’s a very intriguing flavor,” he breathes.
“Since when?”
“Since last Saturday. Why? Were you hoping for something more exotic?”
My inner goddess pops her head above the parapet.
“Oh no. I’ve had enough exotic for one day.” My inner goddess pouts at me, failing miserably to hide her disappointment.
“Sure? We cater for all tastes here – at least thirty-one flavors.” He grins at me lasciviously.
“I’ve noticed,” I reply dryly.
He shakes his head.
“Come on, Miss Steele, you have a big day tomorrow. Sooner you’re in bed, sooner you’ll be fucked, and sooner you can sleep.”