Fifty Shades Trilogy 01 - Fifty Shades of Grey

blinks a couple of times as he considers his answer. “I do this to women who want me to.”
    I don’t understand.
    “If you have willing volunteers, why am I here?”
    “Because I want to do this with you, very much.”
    “Oh,” I gasp. Why?
    I wander to the far corner of the room and pat the waist high padded bench and run my fingers over the leather. He likes to hurt women. The thought depresses me.
    “You’re a sadist?”
    “I’m a Dominant.” His eyes are a scorching gray, intense.
    “What does that mean?” I whisper.
    “It means I want you to willingly surrender yourself to me, in all things.”
    I frown at him as I try to assimilate this idea.
    “Why would I do that?”
    “To please me,” he whispers as he cocks his head to one side, and I see a ghost of a smile.
    Please him! He wants me to please him! I think my mouth drops open. Please Christian Grey. And I realize, in that moment, that yes, that’s exactly what I want to do. I want him to be damned delighted with me. It’s a revelation.
    “In very simple terms, I want you to want to please me,” he says softly. His voice is hypnotic.
    “How do I do that?” My mouth is dry, and I wish I had more wine. Okay, I understand the pleasing bit, but I am puzzled by the soft-boudoir-Elizabethan-torture set up. Do I want to know the answer?
    “I have rules, and I want you to comply with them. They are for your benefit and for my pleasure. If you follow these rules to my satisfaction, I shall reward you. If you don’t, I shall punish you, and you will learn,” he whispers. I glance at the rack of canes as he says this.
    “And where does all this fit in?” I wave my hand in the general direction of the room.
    “It’s all part of the incentive package. Both reward and punishment.”
    “So you’ll get your kicks by exerting your will over me.”
    “It’s about gaining your trust and your respect, so you’ll let me exert my will over you. I will gain a great deal of pleasure, joy even, in your submission. The more you submit, the greater my joy – it’s a very simple equation.”
    “Okay, and what do I get out of this?”
    He shrugs and looks almost apologetic.
    “Me,” he says simply.
    Oh my. Christian rakes his hand through his hair as he gazes at me.
    “You’re not giving anything away, Anastasia,” he murmurs, exasperated. “Let’s go back downstairs where I can concentrate better. It’s very distracting having you in here.” He holds his hand out to me, and now I’m hesitant to take it.
    Kate had said he was dangerous; she was so right. How did she know? He’s dangerous to my health, because I know I’m going to say yes. And part of me doesn’t want to. Part of me wants to run screaming from this room and all it represents. I am so out of my depth here.
    “I’m not going to hurt you, Anastasia.” His gray eyes implore, and I know he speaks the truth. I take his hand, and he leads me out of the door.
    “If you do this, let me show you.” Rather than going back downstairs, he turns right out of the playroom, as he calls it, and down a corridor. We pass several doors until we reach the one at the end. Beyond it is a bedroom with a large double bed, all in white… everything, furniture, walls, bedding. It’s sterile and cold but with the most glorious view of Seattle through the glass wall.
    “This will be your room. You can decorate it how you like, have whatever you like in here.”
    “My room? You’re expecting me to move in?” I can’t hide the horror in my voice.
    “Not full time. Just say, Friday evening through Sunday. We have to talk about all that, negotiate. If you want to do this,” he adds, his voice quiet and hesitant.
    “I’ll sleep here?”
    “Yes.”
    “Not with you.”
    “No. I told you, I don’t sleep with anyone, except you when you’re stupefied with drink.” His eyes are reprimanding.
    My mouth presses in a hard line. This is what I cannot reconcile. Kind, caring Christian, who rescues me from inebriation and holds me gently while I’m throwing up into the azaleas, and the monster who possesses whips and chains in a special room.
    “Where do you sleep?”
    “My room is downstairs. Come, you must be hungry.”
    “Weirdly, I seem to have lost my appetite,” I murmur petulantly.
    “You must eat, Anastasia,” he admonishes and, taking my hand, leads me back downstairs.
    Back in the impossibly big room, I am filled with deep trepidation. I am on the edge of a precipice, and I