"Nothing plain or old about vanilla - it's a very intriguing flavor," he breathes.
"Since when?"
"Since last Saturday. WhyWere 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.
"SureWe cater for all tastes here - at least thirty-one flavors." He grins at me lascivi-ously.
"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."
"Mr. Grey, you are a born romantic."
"Miss Steele, you have a smart mouth. I may have to subdue it some way. Come." He leads me down the hallway into his bedroom and kicks the door closed.
"Hands in the air," he commands.
I oblige, and in one breathtakingly swift move, he removes my dress like a magician, grasping it at the hem and pulling it smoothly and fleetly over my head.
"Ta Da!" he says playfully.
I giggle and applaud politely. He bows gracefully grinning. How can I resist him when he's like this He places my dress on the lone chair beside his chest of drawers.
"And for your next trick?" I prompt, teasing.
"Oh my dear, Miss Steele. Get into my bed," he growls. "And I'll show you."
"Do you think that for once I should play hard to get?" I ask coquettishly.
His eyes widen with surprise, and I see a glimmer of excitement.
"Well... the door's closed. Not sure how you're going to avoid me," he says sardonically. "I think it's a done deal."
"But I'm a good negotiator."
"So am I." He stares down at me, but as he does, his expression changes, confusion washes over him, and the atmosphere in the room shifts abruptly, tensing. "Don't you want to fuck?" he asks.
"No," I breathe.
"Oh." He frowns.
Okay, here goes... deep breath.
"I want you to make love to me."
He stills and stares at me blankly. His expression darkens . Oh shit, this doesn't look good . Give him a minute! My subconscious snaps.
"Ana, I... " He runs his hands through his hair. Two hands. Jeez, he's really bewildered.
"I thought we did?" he says eventually.
"I want to touch you."
He takes an involuntary step back from me, his expression for a moment fearful, and then he reins it in.
"Please," I whisper.
He recovers himself.
"Oh, no Miss Steele, you've had enough concessions from me this evening. And I'm saying no."
"No?"
"No."
Oh... I can't argue with that... can I?
"Look, you're tired, I'm tired. Let's just go to bed," he says, watching me carefully.
"So touching is a hard limit for you?"
"Yes. This is old news."
"Please tell me why."
"Oh, Anastasia, please. Just drop it for now," he mutters exasperated.
"It's important to me."
Again he runs both hands through his hair, and he utters an oath beneath his breath.
Turning on his heel, he heads for the chest of drawers, pulls out a t-shirt, and throws it at me. I catch it, bemused.
"Put that on and get into bed," he snaps, irritated.
I frown but decide to humor him. Turning my back, I quickly remove my bra, pulling the t-shirt on as hastily as I can to cover my nakedness. I leave my panties on, I haven't worn them for most of the evening.
"I need the bathroom." My voice is a whisper.
He frowns, bemused.
"Now you're asking permission?"
"Err... no."
"Anastasia, you know where the bathroom is. Today, at this point in our strange arrangement, you don't need my permission to use it." He cannot hide his irritation. He shrugs out of his shirt, and I scoot into the bathroom.
I stare at myself in the over-large mirror, shocked that I still look the same. After all that I've done today, it's still the same ordinary girl gaping back at me. What did you expect - that you'd grow horns and a little pointy tail My subconscious snaps at me. And what the hell are you doingTouching is his hard limit. Too soon, you idiot, he needs to walk before he can run. My subconscious is furious, medusa-like in her anger, hair flying, her hands clenched around her face like Edvard Munch's Scream. I ignore her, but she won't climb back into her box. You are making him mad - think about all that's he's said, all he's conceded. I scowl at my reflection. I need to be able to show him affection - then perhaps he can reciprocate.
I shake my head resigned and grasp Christian's toothbrush. My subconscious is right of course. I'm rushing him. He's not