Fifty Shades Trilogy 01 - Fifty Shades of Grey

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 doing? Touching 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 ready and neither am I. We are balanced on the delicate see-saw that is our strange arrangement – at different ends, vacillating, and it tips and sways between us. We both need to edge closer to the middle. I just hope neither of us falls off in our attempt to do so. This is all so quick. Maybe I need some distance. Georgia seems more appealing than ever. As I begin brushing my teeth, he knocks.
    “Come in,” I splutter through a mouthful of toothpaste.
    Christian stands in the doorway, his PJs hanging off his hips in that way that makes every little cell in my body stand up and take notice. He’s bare-chested, and I drink him in like I’m crazed with thirst and he’s clear cool mountain spring water. He gazes at me impassively, then smirks and comes to stand beside me. Our eyes lock in the mirror, gray to blue. I finish with his toothbrush, rinse it off, and hand it to him, my look never leaving his. Wordlessly, he takes the toothbrush from me and puts it in his mouth. I smirk back at him, and his eyes are suddenly dancing with humor.
    “Do feel free to borrow my toothbrush.” His tone is gently mocking.
    “Thank you, Sir,” I smile sweetly, and I leave, heading back to bed.
    A few minutes later he joins me.
    “You know this is not how I saw tonight panning out,” he mutters petulantly.
    “Imagine if I said to you that you couldn’t touch me.”
    He clambers onto the bed and sits cross-legged.
    “Anastasia, I’ve told you. Fifty shades. I had a rough start in life – you don’t want that shit in your head. Why would you?”
    “Because I want to know you better.”
    “You know me well enough.”
    “How can you say that?” I struggle up onto my knees, facing him.
    He rolls his eyes at me, frustrated.
    “You’re rolling your eyes. Last time I did that, I ended up over your knee.”
    “Oh, I’d like to put you there again.”
    Inspiration hits me.
    “Tell me and you can.”
    “What?”
    “You heard me.”
    “You’re bargaining with me?” His voice resonates with astonished disbelief.
    I nod. Yes… this is the way.
    “Negotiating.”
    “It doesn’t work that way, Anastasia.”
    “Okay. Tell me, and I’ll roll my eyes at you.”
    He laughs, and I get a rare glimpse of carefree Christian. I’ve not seen him for a while. He sobers.
    “Always so keen and eager for