Fifty Shades Trilogy 02 - Fifty Shades Darker

missed Ray. Her marriage to Steve didn’t last long. She came to her senses, I think. She never talks about him,” I add quietly. I think that’s a dark part of her life, which we’ve never discussed.
    “So you came back to Washington to live with your stepfather.”
    “Yes.”
    “Sounds like you looked after him,” he says softly.
    “I suppose.” I shrug.
    “You’re used to taking care of people.”
    The edge in his voice attracts my attention, and I glance up at him.
    “What is it?” I ask, startled by his wary expression.
    “I want to take care of you.” His luminous eyes glow with some unnamed emotion.
    My heart rate spikes.  
    “I’ve noticed,” I whisper. “You just go about it in a strange way.”
    His brow creases. “It’s the only way I know how,” he says quietly.
    “I’m still mad at you for buying SIP.”
    He smiles. “I know but you being mad, baby, wouldn’t stop me.”
    “What am I going to say to my work colleagues, to Jack?”
    He narrows his eyes. “That fucker better watch himself.”
    “Christian!” I admonish. “He’s my boss.”
    Christian’s mouth presses into a hard line. He looks like a recalcitrant schoolboy.  
    “Don’t tell them,” he says.
    “Don’t tell them what?”
    “That I own it. The heads of agreement was signed yesterday. The news is embargoed for four weeks while the management at SIP makes some changes.”
    “Oh . . . will I be out of a job?” I ask, alarmed.
    “I sincerely doubt it,” Christian says wryly, trying to stifle his smile.
    I scowl. “If I leave and find another job, will you buy that company, too?”
    “You’re not thinking of leaving, are you?” His expression alters, wary once more.
    “Possibly. I’m not sure you’ve given me a great deal of choice.”
    “Yes, I will buy that company, too.” He is adamant.
    I scowl at him again. I am in a no-win situation here.
    “Don’t you think you’re being a tad overprotective?”
    “Yes. I am fully aware of how this looks.”
    “Paging Dr. Flynn,” I murmur.
    He puts down his empty bowl and gazes at me impassively. I sigh. I don’t want to fight. Standing up, I reach for his bowl.
    “Would you like dessert?”
    “Now you’re talking!” he says, giving me a lascivious grin.
    “Not me.” Why not me? My inner goddess wakes from her doze and sits upright, all ears. “We have ice cream. Vanilla.” I snicker.
    “Really?” Christian’s grin gets bigger. “I think we could do something with that.”
    What? I stare at him dumbfounded as he gracefully gets to his feet.
    “Can I stay?” he asks.
    “What do you mean?”
    “The night.”
    “I assumed that you were.” I flush.
    “Good. Where’s the ice cream?”
    “In the oven.” I smile sweetly at him.
    He cocks his head to one side, sighs, and shakes his head at me. “Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, Miss Steele.” His eyes glitter.
    Oh shit. What’s he planning ?
    “I could still take you across my knee.”
    I place the bowls in the sink. “Do you have those silver ball things?”
    He pats his hands down his chest, belly, and the pockets of his jeans. “Funnily enough, I don’t carry a spare set around with me. Not much call for them in the office.”
    “I am very glad to hear it, Mr. Grey, and I thought you said that sarcasm was the lowest form of wit.”
    “Well, Anastasia, my new motto is if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.”
    I gape at him— I can’t believe he’s just said that —and he looks sickeningly pleased with himself as he grins at me. Turning, he opens the freezer and takes out the carton of Ben & Jerry’s finest vanilla.
    “This will do just fine.” He looks up at me, eyes dark. “Ben & Jerry’s & Ana.” He says each word slowly, enunciating every syllable clearly.
    Oh fucking my . I think my lower jaw is on the floor. He opens the cutlery drawer and grabs a spoon. When he looks up, his are eyes hooded, and his tongue skims his top teeth. Oh, that tongue.  
    I feel winded. Desire, dark, sleek, and wanton runs hot through my veins. We’re going to have fun, with food.
    “I hope you’re warm,” he whispers. “I’m going to cool you down with this. Come.” He holds out his hand, and I place mine in his.
    In my bedroom he places the ice cream on my bedside table, pulls the duvet off the bed, and removes both the pillows, placing them all in a pile on the floor.
    “You have a change of sheets, don’t you?”
    I nod, watching him, fascinated. He holds up