Authors: EL James

fifty shades darker (46 page)

BOOK: fifty shades darker

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He raises his head and pins me with his intense gray gaze.

“You’re not like her. Don’t ever think that. Please.”

I blink back at him. It’s very reassuring to hear. He puts his head on my chest again, and I think he’s finished, but he surprises me by continuing.

“Sometimes in the dreams she’s just lying on the floor. And I think she’s asleep. But she doesn’t move. She never moves. And I’m hungry. Really hungry.”

Oh fuck.

“There’s a loud noise and he’s back, and he hits me so hard, cursing the crack whore.

His first reaction was always to use his fists or his belt.”

“Is that why you don’t like to be touched?”

He closes his eyes and hugs me tighter. “That’s complicated,” he murmurs. He nuzzles me between my breasts, inhaling deeply, trying to distract me.

“Tell me,” I prompt.

He sighs. “She didn’t love me. I didn’t love me. The only touch I knew was . . . harsh.

It stemmed from there. Flynn explains it better than I can.”

“Can I see Flynn?”

He raises his head to look at me. “Fifty Shades rubbing off on you?”

“And then some. I like how it’s rubbing off at the moment.” I wriggle provocatively underneath him and he smiles.

“Yes, Miss Steele, I like that, too.” He leans up and kisses me. He gazes at me for a moment.

“You are so precious to me, Ana. I was serious about marrying you. We can get to know each other then. I can look after you. You can look after me. We can have kids if you want.

I will lay my world at your feet, Anastasia. I want you, body and soul, forever. Please think about it.”

“I will think about it, Christian. I will,” I reassure him, reeling once more.
Kids? Jeez.

“I’d really like to talk to Dr. Flynn, though, if you don’t mind.”

“Anything for you, baby. Anything. When would you like to see him?”

“Sooner rather than later.”

“Okay. I’ll make the arrangements in the morning.” He glances at the clock. “It’s late.

We should sleep.” He shifts to switch off his bedside light and pulls me against him.

I glance at the alarm clock. Crap, it’s three forty-five.

He curls his arms around me, his front to my back, and nuzzles my neck. “I love you, Ana Steele, and I want you by my side, always,” he murmurs as he kisses my neck. “Now go to sleep.”

I close my eyes.

Reluctantly, I open my heavy eyelids and bright light fills the room. I groan. I feel cloudy, disconnected from my leaden limbs, and Christian is wrapped around me like ivy.

I’m too warm as per usual. Surely it’s just five in the morning. The alarm has not gone off yet. I stretch out to free myself from his heat, turning in his arms, and he mumbles something unintelligible in his sleep. I glance at the clock. Eight forty-five.

Shit, I’m going to be late.
Fuck.
I scramble out of bed and dash to the bathroom. I am showered and out within four minutes.

Christian sits up in bed watching me with ill-concealed amusement coupled with wari-ness as I continue to dry myself while gathering my clothes. Perhaps he’s waiting for me to react to yesterday’s revelations. Right now, I just don’t have time.

I check my clothes—black slacks, black shirt—all a bit Mrs. R, but I don’t have a second to change my mind. I hastily don black bra and panties, conscious that he’s watching my every move. It’s . . . unnerving. The panties and bra will do.

“You look good,” Christian purrs from the bed. “You can call in sick, you know.” He gives me his devastating, lopsided, one hundred and fifty percent panty-busting smile. Oh, he’s so tempting. My inner goddess pouts provocatively at me.

“No, Christian, I can’t. I am not a megalomaniac CEO with a beautiful smile who can come and go as he pleases.”

“I like to come as I please.” He smirks and cranks his glorious smile up another notch so it’s in full Hd imax.

“Christian!” I scold. I throw my towel at him and he laughs.

“Beautiful smile, huh?”

“Yes. You know the effect you have on me.” I put on my watch.

“Do I?” he blinks innocently.

“Yes, you do. The same effect you have on all women. Gets really tiresome watching them all swoon.”

“Does it?” He cocks his eyebrow at me, more amused.

“Don’t play the innocent, Mr. Grey, it really doesn’t suit you,” I mutter distractedly as I scoop my hair into a ponytail and pull on my black high-heeled shoes. There, that will do.

When I bend to kiss him good-bye, he grabs me and pulls me down onto the bed, leaning over me and smiling from ear to ear.
Oh my.
He’s so beautiful—eyes bright with mischief, floppy just-fucked-again hair, that dazzling smile. Now he’s playful.

I’m tired, still reeling from all the disclosures of yesterday, while he’s bright as a button and sexy as fuck. Oh, exasperating Fifty.

“What can I do to tempt you to stay?” he says softly, and my heart skips a beat and begins to pound. He is temptation personified.

“You can’t,” I grumble, struggling to sit back up. “Let me go.”

He pouts and I give up. Grinning, I trace my fingers over his sculptured lips—my Fifty Shades. I love him so in all his monumental fuckedupness. I haven’t even begun to process yesterday’s events and how I feel about them.

I lean up to kiss him, thankful that I have brushed my teeth. He kisses me long and hard and then swiftly sets me on my feet, leaving me dazed, breathless, and slightly wobbly.

“Taylor will take you. Quicker than finding somewhere to park. He’s waiting outside the building,” Christian says kindly, and he seems relieved. Is he worried about my reaction this morning? Surely last night—er, this morning—proved that I am not going to run.

“Okay. Thank you,” I mutter, disappointed that I am upright on my feet, confused by his hesitancy, and vaguely irritated that once again I won’t be driving my Saab. But he’s right, of course—it will be quicker with Taylor.

“Enjoy your lazy morning, Mr. Grey. I wish I could stay, but the man who owns the company I work for would not approve of his staff ditching just for hot sex.” I grab my purse.

“Personally, Miss Steele, I have no doubt that he would approve. In fact he might insist on it.”

“Why are you staying in bed? It’s not like you.”

He folds his hands behind his head and grins at me.

“Because I can, Miss Steele.”

I shake my head at him. “Laters, baby.” I blow him a kiss, and I am out of the door.

Taylor is waiting for me, and he seems to understand that I am late because he drives like a bat out of hell to get me to work by nine fifteen. I am grateful when he pulls up at the curb—grateful to be alive–his driving was scary. And grateful that I am not hideously late—only fifteen minutes.

“Thank you, Taylor,” I mutter, ashen-faced. I remember Christian telling me he drove tanks; maybe he drives for nascar, too.

“Ana.” He nods a farewell, and I dash into my office, realizing as I open the door to reception that Taylor seems to have overcome the Miss Steele formality. It makes me smile.

Claire grins at me as I rush through reception and make my way to my desk.

“Ana!” Jack calls me. “Get in here.”

Oh shit.

“What time do you call this?” he snaps.

“I’m sorry. I overslept.” I flush crimson.

“Don’t let it happen again. Fix me some coffee, and then I need you to do some letters.

Jump to it,” he shouts, making me flinch.

Why’s he so mad? What’s his problem? What have I done? I hurry to the kitchen to fix his coffee. Maybe I should have ditched. I could be . . . well, doing something hot with Christian, or having breakfast with him, or just talking—that would be novel.

Jack barely acknowledges my presence when I venture back into his office to deliver his coffee. He thrusts a sheet of paper at me—it’s handwritten in a barely legible scrawl.

“Type this up, have me sign, then copy and mail it to all our authors.”

“Yes, Jack.”

He doesn’t look up as I leave. Boy, is he mad.

It is with some relief that I finally sit down at my desk. I take a sip of tea as I wait for my computer to boot up. I check my e-mails.

From:
Christian Grey

Subject:
Missing you

Date:
June 15, 2011 09:05

To:
Anastasia Steele

Please use your Blackberry.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

From:
Anastasia Steele