Fifty Shades of Grey

“Tonight.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“Like Eve, you’re so quick to eat from the tree of knowledge,” he smirks.

“Are you smirking at me, Mr. Grey?” I ask sweetly. Pompous ass.

He narrows his eyes at me and picks up his BlackBerry. He presses one number.

“Taylor. I’m going to need Charlie Tango.”

Charlie Tango! Who’s he?

“From Portland at say twenty-thirty... No, standby at Escala… All night.”

All night!

“Yes. On call tomorrow morning. I’ll pilot from Portland to Seattle.”

Pilot?

“Standby pilot from twenty-two-thirty.” He puts the phone down. No please or thank

you.“Do people always do what you tell them?”

“Usually, if they want to keep their jobs,” he says, deadpan.

“And if they don’t work for you?”

“Oh, I can be very persuasive, Anastasia. You should finish your breakfast. And then

I’ll drop you home. I’ll pick you up at Clayton’s at eight when you finish. We’ll fly up to

Seattle.”

I blink at him rapidly.

“Fly?”

“Yes. I have a helicopter.”

I gape at him. I have my second date with Christian oh-so-mysterious Grey. From

coffee to helicopter rides. Wow.

“We’ll go by helicopter to Seattle?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

He grins wickedly.

“Because I can. Finish your breakfast.”

How can I eat now? I’m going to Seattle by helicopter with Christian Grey. And he

wants to bite my lip… I squirm at the thought

“Eat,” he says more sharply. “Anastasia, I have an issue with wasted food… eat.”

“I can’t eat all this.” I gape at what’s left on the table.

“Eat what’s on your plate. If you’d eaten properly yesterday, you wouldn’t be here, and

I wouldn’t be declaring my hand so soon.” His mouth sets in a grim line. He looks angry.

I frown and return to my now cold food. I’m too excited to eat, Christian. Don’t you

understand?My subconscious explains. But I’m too much of a coward to voice these

thoughts aloud, especially when he looks so sullen. Hmm,like a small boy. I find the

thought amusing.

“What’s so fu

on my food. Swallowing my last piece of pancake, I peek up at him. He’s eyeing me

speculatively.

“Good girl,” he says. “I’ll take you home when you’ve dried your hair. I don’t want

you getting ill.” There’s some kind of unspoken promise in his words. What does he

mean?I leave the table, wondering for a moment if I should ask permission but dismissing

the idea. Sounds like a dangerous precedent to set. I head back to his bedroom. A thought

stops me.

“Where did you sleep last night?” I turn to gaze at him still sitting in the dining room

chair. I can’t see any blankets or sheets out here – perhaps he’s had them tidied away.

“In my bed,” he says simply, his gaze impassive again.

“Oh.”

“Yes, it was quite a novelty for me too.” He smiles.

“Not having… sex.” There – I said the word. I blush – of course.

“No,” he shakes his head and frowns as if recalling something uncomfortable. “Sleep-

ing with someone.” He picks up his newspaper and continues to read.

What in heaven’s name does that mean? He’s never slept with anyone? He’s a vir-

gin? Somehow I doubt that. I stand staring at him in disbelief. He is the most mystifying

person I’ve ever met. And it dawns on me that I have slept with Christian Grey, and I kick

myself – what would I have given to be conscious to watch him sleep. See him vulnerable.

Somehow, I find that hard to imagine. Well, allegedly all will be revealed tonight.

In his bedroom, I hunt through a chest of drawers and find the hair dryer. Using my

fingers, I dry my hair the best I can. When I’ve finished, I head into the bathroom. I want

to clean my teeth. I eye Christian’s toothbrush. It would be like having him in my mouth.

Hmm… Glancing guiltily over my shoulder at the door, I feel the bristles on the toothbrush.

They are damp. He must have used it already. Grabbing it quickly, I squirt toothpaste on

it and brush my teeth in double quick time. I feel so naughty. It’s such a thrill.

Grabbing my t-shirt, bra, and panties from yesterday, I put them in the shopping bag

that Taylor brought and head back to the living area to hunt for my bag and jacket. Deep

joy, there is a hair tie in my bag. Christian is watching me as I tie my hair into a ponytail,

his expression unreadable. I feel his eyes follow me as I sit down and wait for him to finish.

He’s on his BlackBerry talking to someone.

“They want two?… How much will that cost?... Okay, and what safety measures do we

have in place?… And they’ll go via Suez?… How safe is Ben Sudan?... And when do they

arrive in Darfur?... Okay, let’s do it. Keep me abreast of progress.” He hangs up.

“Ready to go?”

I nod. I wonder what his conversation was about. He slips on a navy pinstriped jacket,

picks up his car keys, and heads for the door.

“After you, Miss Steele,” he murmurs, opening the door for me. He looks so casually

elegant.

I pause, fractionally too long, drinking in the sight of him. And to think I slept with

him last night and, after all the tequila and the throwing up, he’s still here. What’s more, he

wants to take me to Seattle. Why me? I don’t understand it. I head out the door recalling

his words – There’s something about you– Well the feeling is entirely mutual Mr. Grey,

and I aim to find out what it is.

We walk in silence down the corridor toward the elevator. As we wait, I peek up at

him through my lashes, and he looks out of the corner of his eyes down at me. I smile, and

his lips twitch.

The elevator arrives, and we step in. We’re alone. Suddenly, for some inexplica-

ble reason, possibly our proximity in such an enclosed space, the atmosphere between us

changes, charging with an electric, exhilarating anticipation. My breathing alters as my

heart races. His head turns fractionally toward me, his eyes darkest slate. I bite my lip.

“Oh, fuck the paperwork,” he growls. He lunges at me, pushing me against the wall

of the elevator. Before I know it, he’s got both of my hands in one of his in a vice-like grip

above my head, and he’s pi

grabs my ponytail and yanks down, bringing my face up, and his lips are on mine. It’s

only just not painful. I moan into his mouth, giving his tongue an opening. He takes full

advantage, his tongue expertly exploring my mouth. I have never been kissed like this.

My tongue tentatively strokes his and joins his in a slow erotic dance that’s all about touch

and sensation, all bump and grind. He brings his hand up to grasp my chin and holds me

in place. I am helpless, my hands pi

his erection against my belly. Oh my… He wants me. Christian Grey, Greek god, wants

me, and I want him,here… now, in the elevator.

“You. Are. So. Sweet,” he murmurs, each word a staccato.

The elevator stops, the doors open, and he pushes away from me in the blink of an eye,