Fifty Shades Trilogy 02 - Fifty Shades Darker

he grabs me and pulls me down onto the bed, leaning over me and smiling from ear to ear. Oh my . He’s so beautiful—eyes bright with mischief, floppy just-fucked-again hair, that dazzling smile. Now he’s playful.  
    I’m tired, still reeling from all the disclosures of yesterday, while he’s bright as a button and sexy as fuck. Oh, exasperating Fifty.
    “What can I do to tempt you to stay?” he says softly, and my heart skips a beat and begins to pound. He is temptation personified.
    “You can’t,” I grumble, struggling to sit back up. “Let me go.”
    He pouts and I give up. Grinning, I trace my fingers over his sculptured lips—my Fifty Shades. I love him so in all his monumental fuckedupness. I haven’t even begun to process yesterday’s events and how I feel about them.  
    I lean up to kiss him, thankful that I have brushed my teeth. He kisses me long and hard and then swiftly sets me on my feet, leaving me dazed, breathless, and slightly wobbly.
    “Taylor will take you. Quicker than finding somewhere to park. He’s waiting outside the building,” Christian says kindly, and he seems relieved. Is he worried about my reaction this morning? Surely last night—er, this morning—proved that I am not going to run.
    “Okay. Thank you,” I mutter, disappointed that I am upright on my feet, confused by his hesitancy, and vaguely irritated that once again I won’t be driving my Saab. But he’s right, of course—it will be quicker with Taylor.
    “Enjoy your lazy morning, Mr. Grey. I wish I could stay, but the man who owns the company I work for would not approve of his staff ditching just for hot sex.” I grab my purse.
    “Personally, Miss Steele, I have no doubt that he would approve. In fact he might insist on it.”
    “Why are you staying in bed? It’s not like you.”
    He folds his hands behind his head and grins at me.
    “Because I can, Miss Steele.”
    I shake my head at him. “Laters, baby.” I blow him a kiss, and I am out of the door.

    Taylor is waiting for me, and he seems to understand that I am late because he drives like a bat out of hell to get me to work by nine fifteen. I am grateful when he pulls up at the curb—grateful to be alive–his driving was scary. And grateful that I am not hideously late—only fifteen minutes.
    “Thank you, Taylor,” I mutter, ashen-faced. I remember Christian telling me he drove tanks; maybe he drives for NASCAR , too.
    “Ana.” He nods a farewell, and I dash into my office, realizing as I open the door to reception that Taylor seems to have overcome the Miss Steele formality. It makes me smile.
    Claire grins at me as I rush through reception and make my way to my desk.
    “Ana!” Jack calls me. “Get in here.”
    Oh shit.
    “What time do you call this?” he snaps.
    “I’m sorry. I overslept.” I flush crimson.
    “Don’t let it happen again. Fix me some coffee, and then I need you to do some letters. Jump to it,” he shouts, making me flinch.
    Why’s he so mad? What’s his problem? What have I done? I hurry to the kitchen to fix his coffee. Maybe I should have ditched. I could be . . . well, doing something hot with Christian, or having breakfast with him, or just talking—that would be novel.
    Jack barely acknowledges my presence when I venture back into his office to deliver his coffee. He thrusts a sheet of paper at me—it’s handwritten in a barely legible scrawl.
    “Type this up, have me sign, then copy and mail it to all our authors.”
    “Yes, Jack.”
    He doesn’t look up as I leave. Boy, is he mad.
    It is with some relief that I finally sit down at my desk. I take a sip of tea as I wait for my computer to boot up. I check my e-mails.

    From: Christian Grey
    Subject:  Missing you
    Date:  June 15, 2011 09:05
    To:  Anastasia Steele

    Please use your Blackberry.
    x
    Christian Grey
    CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

    From:  Anastasia Steele
    Subject:  All Right for Some
    Date:  June 15, 2011 09:27
    To:  Christian Grey

    My boss is mad.
    I blame you for keeping me up late with your . . . shenanigans.
    You should be ashamed of yourself.

    Anastasia Steele
    Assistant to Jack Hyde, Commissioning Editor, SIP

    From:  Christian Grey
    Subject:  Shenaniwhatagans?
    Date:  June 15, 2011 09:32
    To:  Anastasia Steele

    You don’t have to work, Anastasia.
    You have no idea how appalled I am at my shenanigans.
    But I like keeping you up late ;)
    Please use your Blackberry.
    Oh, and marry me,