Fifty Shades Trilogy 01 - Fifty Shades of Grey

want what you want.” I keep my voice soft, low, and he looks at me hungrily. Jeez, my inner goddess swoons. Am I up to this game?
    Leandra looks from me to him and back again. She’s practically the same color as her shiny red hair.
    “Shall I give you folks another minute to decide?”
    “No. We know what we want.” Christian’s mouth twitches with a small, sexy smile.
    “We’ll have two portions of the original buttermilk pancakes with maple syrup and bacon on the side, two glasses of orange juice, one black coffee with skim milk, and one English breakfast tea, if you have it,” says Christian, not taking his eyes off me.
    “Thank you, sir. Will that be all?” Leandra whispers, looking anywhere but at the two of us. We both turn to stare at her, and she flushes crimson again and scuttles away.
    “You know it’s really not fair.” I glance down at the Formica tabletop, tracing a pattern in it with my index finger, trying to sound nonchalant.
    “What’s not fair?”
    “How you disarm people. Women. Me.”
    “Do I disarm you?”
    I snort.
    “All the time.”
    “It’s just looks, Anastasia,” he says mildly.
    “No, Christian, it’s much more than that.”
    His brow creases.
    “You disarm me totally, Miss Steele. Your innocence. It cuts through all the crap.”
    “Is that why you’ve changed your mind?”
    “Changed my mind?”
    “Yes – about … err… us?”
    He strokes his chin thoughtfully with his long, skilled fingers.
    “I don’t think I’ve changed my mind per se. We just need to redefine our parameters, redraw our battle lines, if you will. We can make this work, I’m sure. I want you submissive in my playroom. I will punish you if you digress from the rules. Other than that… well, I think it’s all up for discussion. Those are my requirements, Miss Steele. What say you to that?”
    “So I get to sleep with you? In your bed?”
    “Is that what you want?”
    “Yes.”
    “I agree then. Besides, I sleep very well when you’re in my bed. I had no idea.” His brow creases as his voice fades.
    “I was frightened you’d leave me if I didn’t agree to all of it,” I whisper.
    “I’m not going anywhere, Anastasia. Besides… ” He trails off, and after some thought, he adds. “We’re following your advice, your definition: compromise. You e-mailed it to me. And so far, it’s working for me.”
    “I love that you want more,” I murmur shyly.
    “I know.”
    “How do you know?”
    “Trust me. I just do.” He smirks at me. He’s hiding something. What?
    At that moment, Leandra arrives with breakfast and our conversation ceases. My stomach rumbles, reminding me how ravenous I am. Christian watches with annoying approval as I devour everything on my plate.
    “Can I treat you?” I ask Christian.
    “Treat me how?”
    “Pay for this meal.”
    Christian snorts.
    “I don’t think so,” he scoffs.
    “Please. I want to.”
    He frowns at me.
    “Are you trying to completely emasculate me?”
    “This is probably the only place that I’ll be able to afford to pay.”
    “Anastasia, I appreciate the thought. I do. But no.”
    I purse my lips.
    “Don’t scowl,” he threatens, his eyes glinting ominously.
    Of course he doesn’t ask me for my mother’s address. He knows it already, stalker that he is. When he pulls up outside the house, I don’t comment. What’s the point?
    “Do you want to come in?” I ask shyly.
    “I need to work, Anastasia, but I’ll be back this evening. What time?”
    I ignore the unwelcome stab of disappointment. Why do I want to spend every single minute with this controlling sex god? Oh yes, I’ve fallen in love with him, and he can fly.
    “Thank you… for the more.”
    “My pleasure, Anastasia.” He kisses me, and I inhale his sexy Christian smell.
    “I’ll see you later.”
    “Try and stop me,” he whispers.
    I wave goodbye as he drives off into the Georgia sunshine. I’m still wearing his sweatshirt and his underwear, and I’m too warm.
    In the kitchen, my mom is in a complete flap. It’s not every day she has to entertain a multi-zillionaire, and it’s stressing her out.
    “How are you, darling?” she asks, and I flush because she must know what I was doing last night.
    “I’m good. Christian took me gliding this morning.” I hope the new information will distract her.
    “Gliding? As in a small plane with no engine? That sort of gliding?”
    I nod.
    “Wow.”
    She’s speechless – a novel concept for my