Fifty Shades Trilogy 02 - Fifty Shades Darker

orders. “I am not taking you home until you’ve finished your meal, and then we can really celebrate.” His expression is so heated, so raw, so commanding. I am melting.
    “I’m not hungry. Not for food.”
    He shakes his head, thoroughly enjoying himself, but narrows his eyes at me just the same.
    “Eat, or I’ll put you across my knee, right here, and we’ll entertain the other diners.”
    His words make me squirm. He wouldn’t dare! He and his twitchy palm. I press my mouth into a hard line and stare at him. Picking up an asparagus stalk, he dips the head into the hollandaise.
    “Eat this,” he murmurs, his voice low and seductive.
    I willingly comply.
    “You really don’t eat enough. You’ve lost weight since I’ve known you.” His tone is gentle.
    I don’t want to think about my weight; truth is, I like being this slim. I swallow the asparagus.
    “I just want to go home and make love,” I mutter disconsolately. Christian grins.
    “So do I, and we will. Eat up.”
    Reluctantly, I turn back to my food and start to eat. Honestly, I’ve taken my panties off and everything. I feel like a child who has been denied candy. He is such a tease, a delicious, hot, naughty tease, and all mine.
    He quizzes me about Ethan. As it turns out, Christian does business with Kate and Ethan’s father. Hmm . . . it’s small world. I’m relieved he doesn’t mention Dr. Flynn or the house as I’m finding it difficult to concentrate on our conversation. I want to go home.  
    The carnal anticipation is unfurling between us. He’s so good at this. Making me wait. Setting the scene. Between bites, he places his hand on his thigh, so close to mine, but still doesn’t touch me just to tease me further.  
    Bastard! Finally I finish my food, and place my knife and fork on the plate.
    “Good girl,” he murmurs, and those two words hold so much promise.
    I frown at him. “What now?” I ask, desire clawing at my belly. Oh, I want this man.
    “Now? We leave. I believe you have certain expectations, Miss Steele. Which I intend to fulfill to the best of my ability.”
    Whoa!
    “The best . . . of your a . . . bil . . . ity?” I stutter. Holy shit.
    He grins and stands.
    “Don’t we have to pay?” I ask, breathless.
    He cocks his head to one side. “I am a member here. They’ll bill me. Come, Anastasia, after you.” He steps aside, and I stand to leave, conscious that I am not wearing my panties.  
    He gazes at me darkly, like he’s undressing me, and I glory in his carnal appraisal. It just makes me feel so sexy—this beautiful man desires me. Will I always get a kick out of this? Deliberately stopping in front of him, I smooth my dress over my hips.
    Christian whispers in my ear, “I can’t wait to get you home.” But he still doesn’t touch me.  
    On the way out he murmurs something about the car to the maître d’ , but I’m not listening, my inner goddess is incandescent with anticipation. Jeez, she could light up Seattle.
    Waiting by the elevators, we are joined by two middle-aged couples. When the doors open, Christian takes my elbow and steers me to the back. I glance around, and we’re surrounded by dark smoked-glass mirrors. As the other couples enter, one man in a rather unflattering brown suit greets Christian.
    “Grey,” he nods politely. Christian nods in return but is silent.
    The couples stand in front of us, facing the elevator doors. They are obviously friends—the women chat loudly, excited and animated after their meal. I think they’re all a little tipsy.
    As the doors close, Christian briefly stoops down beside me to tie his shoelace. Odd, his shoelaces aren’t undone. Discreetly he places his hand on my ankle, startling me, and as he stands his hand travels swiftly up my leg, skating deliciously over my skin—whoa—right up. I have to stifle my gasp of surprise as his hand reaches my backside. Christian moves behind me.
    Oh my. I gape at the people in front of us, staring at the backs of their heads. They have no idea what we’re up to. Wrapping his free arm around my waist, Christian pulls me to him, holding me in place as his fingers explore. Holy fucking shit . . . in here ? The elevator travels smoothly down, stopping at the fifty-third floor to let some more people on, but I am not paying attention. I am focused on every little move his fingers make. Circling around . . . now moving forward, questing, as we shuffle back.
    Again I stifle a groan