Fifty Shades of Grey (Fifty Shades 1)

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 f**k 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. 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 f**ked, 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 f**k?" 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.