Fifty Shades Trilogy 01 - Fifty Shades of Grey

apprehension gone, dissolved by sexual congress.
    “Fine, thank you,” I murmur, still breathless. “Thanks once again for first class. It really is a much nicer way to travel.” I smile shyly at him. “I have some news,” I add nervously.
    “Oh?” He looks down at me as he undoes the last button, slips my blouse down my arms, and throws it on top of his discarded clothes.
    “I have a job.”
    He stills, then smiles at me, his eyes warm and soft.
    “Congratulations, Miss Steele. Now will you tell me where?” he teases.
    “You don’t know?”
    He shakes his head, frowning slightly.
    “Why would I know?”
    “With your stalking capabilities, I thought you might have… ” I trail off as his face falls.
    “Anastasia, I wouldn’t dream of interfering in your career, unless you ask me to, of course.” He looks wounded.
    “So you have no idea which company?”
    “No. I know there are four publishing companies in Seattle – so I am assuming it’s one of them.”
    “SIP.”
    “Oh, the small one, good. Well done.” He leans forward and kisses my forehead. “Clever girl. When do you start?”
    “Monday.”
    “That soon, eh? I’d better take advantage of you while I still can. Turn round.”
    I am thrown by his casual command, but do as I’m bid, and he undoes my bra and unzips my skirt. He pushes my skirt down, cupping my behind as he does, and kissing my shoulder. He leans against me and his nose nuzzles my hair, inhaling deeply. He squeezes my buttocks.
    “You intoxicate me, Miss Steele, and you calm me. Such a heady combination.” He kisses my hair. Grabbing my hand, he tugs me into the shower.
    “Ow,” I squeal. The water is practically scalding. Christian grins down at me as the water cascades over him.
    “It’s only a little hot water.”
    And actually he’s right. It feels heavenly, washing off the sticky Georgia morning and the stickiness from our lovemaking.
    “Turn round,” he orders, and I comply, turning to face the wall. “I want to wash you,” he murmurs and reaches for the body wash. He squirts a little into his hand.
    “I have something else to tell you,” I murmur as his hands start on my shoulders.
    “Oh, yes?” he asks mildly.
    I steel myself with a deep breath.
    “My friend José’s photography show is opening Thursday in Portland.”
    He stills, his hands hovering over my breasts. I have emphasized the word ‘friend.’
    “Yes, what about it?” he asks sternly.
    “I said I would go. Do you want to come with me?”
    After what feels like a monumental amount of time, he slowly starts washing me again.
    “What time?”
    “The opening is at 7:30 p.m.”
    He kisses my ear.
    “Okay.”
    Inside my subconscious relaxes and then collapses, slumped into an old battered armchair.
    “Were you nervous about asking me?”
    “Yes. How can you tell?”
    “Anastasia, your whole body’s just relaxed,” he says dryly.
    “Well, you just seem to be, um… on the jealous side.”
    “Yes, I am,” he says darkly. “And you’d do well to remember that. But thank you for asking. We’ll take Charlie Tango.”
    Oh, the helicopter of course, silly me. More flying… cool! I grin.
    “Can I wash you?” I ask.
    “I don’t think so,” he murmurs, and he kisses me gently on my neck to take the sting out of his refusal. I pout at the wall as he caresses my back with soap.
    “Will you ever let me touch you?” I ask boldly.
    He stills again, his hand on my behind.
    “Put your hands on the wall, Anastasia. I’m going to take you again,” he murmurs in my ear as he grabs my hips, and I know that the discussion is over.
    Later, we are seated at the breakfast bar, dressed in bathrobes, having consumed Mrs. Jones’s rather excellent pasta alle vongole.
    “More wine?” Christian asks, gray eyes glowing.
    “A small glass, please.” The Sancerre is crisp and delicious. Christian pours one for me and one for himself.
    “How’s the, um… situation that brought you to Seattle?” I ask tentatively.
    He frowns.
    “Out of hand,” he murmurs bitterly. “But nothing for you to worry about, Anastasia. I have plans for you this evening.”
    “Oh?”
    “Yes. I want you ready and waiting in my playroom in fifteen minutes.” He stands and gazes down at me.
    “You can get ready in your room. Incidentally, the walk-in closet is now full of clothes for you. I don’t want any arguments about them.” He narrows his eyes, daring me to say something. When I don’t, he stalks