Fifty Shades Trilogy 02 - Fifty Shades Darker

have kept my makeup to a minimum, a natural look. Eyeliner, mascara, a little pink blush, and pale pink lipstick.  
    I don’t really need the blush. I am slightly flushed from the constant movement of the silver balls. Yes, they’ll guarantee I have some color in my cheeks tonight. Shaking my head at the audacity of Christian’s erotic ideas, I lean down to collect my satin wrap and silver clutch purse and go in search of my Fifty Shades.
    He is talking to Taylor and three other men in the hallway, his back to me. Their surprised, appreciative expressions alert Christian to my presence. He turns as I stand and wait awkwardly.
    Holy cow ! My mouth dries. He looks stunning . . . Black dinner suit, black bow tie, and his expression as he gazes at me is one of awe. He strolls toward me and kisses my hair.
    “Anastasia. You look breathtaking.”
    I flush at this compliment in front of Taylor and the other men.
    “A glass of champagne before we go?”
    “Please,” I murmur, far too quickly.
    Christian nods to Taylor who heads into the foyer with his three cohorts.
    In the great room, Christian retrieves a bottle of champagne from the fridge.
    “Security team?” I ask.
    “Close protection. They’re under Taylor’s control. He’s trained in that, too.” Christian hands me a champagne flute.
    “He’s very versatile.”
    “Yes, he is.” Christian smiles. “You look lovely, Anastasia. Cheers.” He raises his glass, and I clink it with mine. The champagne is a pale rose color. It tastes deliciously crisp and light.
    “How are you feeling?” he asks, his eyes heated.
    “Fine, thank you.” I smile sweetly, giving nothing away, knowing full well he’s referring to the silver balls.
    He smirks at me.
    “Here, you’re going to need this.” He hands me a large velvet pouch that was resting on the kitchen island. “Open it,” he says between sips of champagne. Intrigued, I reach into the bag and pull out an intricate silver masquerade mask with cobalt blue feathers in a plume crowning the top.
    “It’s a masked ball,” he states matter-of-factly.
    “I see.” The mask is beautiful. A silver ribbon is threaded around the edges and exquisite silver filigree is etched around the eyes.
    “This will show off your beautiful eyes, Anastasia.”
    I grin at him, shyly.
    “Are you wearing one?”
    “Of course. They’re very liberating in a way,” he adds, raising an eyebrow, and he smirks.
    Oh. This is going to be fun.
    “Come. I want to show you something.” Holding out his hand, he leads me out into the hallway and to a door beside the stairs. He opens it, revealing a large room roughly the same size as his playroom, which must be directly above us. This one is filled with books. Wow, a library, every wall crammed floor to ceiling. In the center is a full-size billiard table illuminated by a long triangular-prism-shaped Tiffany lamp.
    “You have a library!” I squeak in awe, overwhelmed with excitement.
    “Yes, the balls room as Elliot calls it. The apartment is quite spacious. I realized today, when you mentioned exploring, that I’ve never given you a tour. We don’t have time now, but I thought I’d show you this room, and maybe challenge you to a game of billiards in the not-too-distant future.”
    I grin at him.
    “Bring it on.” I secretly hug myself with glee. José and I bonded over pool. We’ve been playing for the last three years. I am ace with a cue. José has been a good teacher.
    “What?” Christian asks, amused.
    Oh! I really must stop expressing every emotion I feel the instant I feel it , I scold myself.
    “Nothing,” I say quickly.
    Christian narrows his eyes.
    “Well, maybe Doctor Flynn can uncover your secrets. You’ll meet him this evening.”
    “The expensive charlatan?” Holy shit.
    “The very same. He’s dying to meet you.”

    Christian takes my hand and gently skims his thumb across my knuckles as we sit in the back of the Audi heading north. I squirm, and feel the sensation in my groin. I resist the urge to moan, as Taylor is in the front, not wearing his iPod, with one of the security guys whose name I think is Sawyer.  
    I am beginning to feel a dull, pleasurable ache deep in my belly, caused by the balls. Idly, I wonder, how long will I be able to manage without some, um . . . relief? I cross my legs. As I do, something that’s been niggling me in the back of my mind suddenly surfaces.
    “Where did you get the lipstick?” I ask Christian