Fifty Shades Trilogy 01 - Fifty Shades of Grey

whim. My subconscious shakes her head. You wanted to run to the Heathman for sex – you had it express-delivered. She crosses her arms and taps her foot with a what-are-you-complaining-about look on her face. Christian stops in the doorway and clasps my chin, forcing my eyes to meet his. His brow creases slightly.
    “You okay?” he asks tenderly as his thumb lightly caresses my bottom lip.
    “Yes.” I reply, though in all honesty I’m just not sure. I feel a paradigm shift. I know that if I do this thing with him, I will get hurt. He’s not capable, interested, or willing to offer me any more… and I want more. Much more. The surge of jealousy I felt only moments ago tells me that I have deeper feelings for him than I have admitted to myself.
    “Wednesday,” he confirms, and he leans forward and kisses me softly. Something changes while he’s kissing me, his lips grow more urgent against mine, his hand moves up from my chin and he’s holding the side of my head, his other hand on the other side. His breathing accelerates. He deepens the kiss, leaning into me. I put my hands on his arms. I want to run them through his hair, but I resist, knowing that he won’t like it. He leans his forehead against mine, his eyes closed, his voice strained.
    “Anastasia,” he whispers. “What are you doing to me?”
    “I could say the same to you,” I whisper back.
    Taking a deep breath, he kisses my forehead and leaves. He strolls purposefully down the path toward his car as he runs his hand through his hair. Glancing up as he opens his car door, he smiles his breathtaking smile. My answering smile is weak, completely dazzled by him, and I’m reminded once more of Icarus soaring too close to the Sun. I close the front door as he climbs into his sporty car. I have an overwhelming urge to cry, a sad and lonely melancholy grips and tightens round my heart. Dashing back to my bedroom, I close the door and lean against it trying to rationalize my feelings. I can’t. Sliding to the floor, I put my head in my hands as my tears begin to flow.
    Kate knocks gently.
    “Ana?” she whispers. I open the door. She takes one look at me and throws her arms around me.
    “What’s wrong? What did that creepy good-looking bastard do?”
    “Oh Kate, nothing I didn’t want him to.”
    She pulls me to my bed and we sit.
    “You have dreadful sex hair.”
    In spite of my poignant sadness, I laugh.
    “It was good sex, not dreadful at all.”
    Kate smiles.
    “That’s better. Why are you crying? You never cry.” She retrieves my brush from the side table, and sitting behind me, very slowly starts brushing out the knots.
    “I just don’t think our relationship is going to go anywhere.” I stare down at my fingers.
    “I thought you said you were going to see him on Wednesday?”
    “I am. That was our original plan.”
    “So, why did he turn up here today?”
    “I sent him an e-mail.”
    “Asking him to drop by?”
    “No, saying I didn’t want to see him anymore.”
    “And he turns up? Ana, that’s genius.”
    “Actually it was a joke.”
    “Oh. Now I’m really confused.”
    Patiently, I explain the essence of my e-mail without giving anything away.
    “So you thought he’d reply by e-mail.”
    “Yes.”
    “But instead he turns up here.”
    “Yes.”
    “I’d say he’s completely smitten with you.”
    I frown. Christian, smitten with me? Hardly. He’s just looking for a new toy – a convenient new toy that he can bed and do unspeakable things to. My heart tightens painfully. This is the reality.
    “He came here to fuck me, that’s all.”
    “Who said romance was dead?” she whispers horrified. I’ve shocked Kate. I didn’t think that was possible. I shrug apologetically.
    “He uses sex as a weapon.”
    “Fuck you into submission?” She shakes her head disapprovingly. I blink rapidly at her, and I can feel the blush as it spreads across my face. Oh… spot on, Katherine Kavanagh, Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist.
    “Ana, I don’t understand, you just let him make love to you?”
    “No, Kate, we don’t make love – we fuck – Christian’s terminology. He doesn’t do the love thing.”
    “I knew there was something weird about him. He has commitment issues.”
    I nod, as if in agreement. Inwardly, I pine. Oh Kate... I wish I could tell you everything, everything about this strange, sad, kinky guy, and you could tell me to forget about him. Stop me from being a fool.
    “I guess it’s all a