Fifty Shades Trilogy 01 - Fifty Shades of Grey

grins.
    I knock timidly on room 612 and wait. Christian opens the door. He’s on his cell. He blinks at me in complete surprise, then holds the door open wide and beckons me into his room.
    “All the redundancy packages concluded?... And the cost?... ” Christian whistles between his teeth. “Sheesh… that was one expensive mistake… And Lucas? ... ”
    I glance around the room. He’s in a suite, like the one at the Heathman. The furnishings here are ultramodern, very now. All muted dark purples and golds with bronze starbursts on the walls. Christian walks over to a dark wood unit and pulls open a door to reveal a minibar. He indicates that I should help myself, then wanders into the bedroom. I assume it’s so I can no longer hear his conversation. I shrug. He didn’t stop his call when I entered his study that time. I hear water running… he’s filling a bath. I help myself to an orange juice. He ambles back into the room.
    “Have Andrea send me the schematics. Barney said he’d cracked the problem… ” Christian laughs. “No, Friday… There’s a plot of land here that I’m interested in… Yeah, get Bill to call… No, tomorrow… I want to see what Georgia will offer if we move in.” Christian doesn’t take his eyes off me. Handing me a glass, he points to an ice bucket.
    “If their incentives are attractive enough… I think we should consider it, though I’m not sure about the damned heat here… I agree Detroit has its advantages, too, and it’s cooler… ” His face darkens momentarily. Why? “Get Bill to call. Tomorrow… Not too early.” He hangs up and stares at me, his face unreadable, and the silence stretches between us.
    Okay… my turn to talk.
    “You didn’t answer my question,” I murmur.
    “No. I didn’t,” he says quietly, his gray eyes wide and cautious.
    “No, you didn’t answer my question or no, you didn’t love her?”
    He folds his arms and leans against the wall, and a small smile plays upon his lips.
    “What are you doing here, Anastasia?”
    “I’ve just told you.”
    He takes a deep breath.
    “No. I didn’t love her.” He frowns at me, amused yet puzzled.
    I can’t believe I’m holding my breath. I sag like an old cloth sack as I release it. Well, thank heavens for that. How would I feel if he actually loved the witch?
    “You’re quite the green-eyed goddess, Anastasia. Who would have thought?”
    “Are you making fun of me, Mr. Grey?”
    “I wouldn’t dare.” He shakes his head solemnly, but he has a wicked gleam in his eye.
    “Oh, I think you would, and I think you do – often.”
    He smirks as I give him back the words he’s said to me before. His eyes darken.
    “Please stop biting your lip. You’re in my room, I haven’t set eyes on you for nearly three days, and I’ve flown a long way to see you.” His tone has changed to soft, sensual.
    His BlackBerry buzzes, distracting us both, and he switches it off without glancing to see who it is. My breath hitches. I know where this is going… but we’re supposed to talk. He takes a step toward me wearing his sexy predatory look.
    “I want you, Anastasia. Now. And you want me. That’s why you’re here.”
    “I really did want to know,” I whisper as a defense.
    “Well, now that you do, are you coming or going?”
    I flush as he comes to a halt in front of me.
    “Coming,” I murmur, staring anxiously up at him.
    “Oh, I hope so.” He gazes down at me. “You were so mad at me,” he breathes.
    “Yes.”
    “I don’t remember anyone but my family ever being mad at me. I like it.”
    He runs the tips of fingers down my cheek. Oh my , his proximity, his delicious Christian smell. We’re supposed to be talking, but my heart is pounding, my blood singing as it courses through my body, desire pooling, unfurling… everywhere. Christian bends and runs his nose along my shoulder and up to the base of my ear, his fingers slipping into my hair.
    “We should talk,” I whisper.
    “Later.”
    “There’s so much I want to say.”
    “Me, too.”
    He plants a soft kiss under my earlobe while his fingers tighten in my hair. Pulling my head back, he exposes my throat to his lips. His teeth skim my chin, and he kisses my throat.
    “I want you,” he breathes.
    I moan and reach up and grasp his arms.
    “Are you bleeding?” He continues to kiss me.
    Holy Fuck. Does nothing slip by him?
    “Yes,” I whisper, embarrassed.
    “Do you have cramps?”
    “No.” I flush. Jeez…
    He