"But you know it's too much."

"Not to me it isn't, not for my peace of mind."

I frown at him, at a loss what to say. He just doesn't get it! He's had money all his life.

Okay, not all his life - not as a small child - and my world-view shifts. The thought is very sobering, and I soften towards the car, feeling guilty about my fit of pique. His intentions are good, misguided, but not from a bad place.

"I'm happy for you to loan this to me, like the laptop."

He sighs heavily.

"Okay. On loan. Indefinitely." He looks warily at me.

"No, not indefinitely, but for now. Thank you."

He frowns. I reach up and kiss him briefly on his cheek.

"Thank you for the car, sir." I say as sweetly as I can manage.

He grabs me suddenly and yanks me up against him, one hand at my back holding me to him and the other fisting in my hair.

"You are one challenging woman, Ana Steele." He kisses me pa.s.sionately, forcing my lips apart with his tongue, taking no prisoners.

My blood heats immediately, and I'm returning his kiss with my own pa.s.sion. I want him badly - in spite of the car, the books, the soft limits... the caning... I want him.

"It's taking all my self-control not to f**k you on the hood of this car right now, just to show you that you are mine, and if I want to buy you a f**king car, I'll buy you a f**king car," he growls. "Now let's get you inside and naked." He plants a swift rough kiss on me.

Boy, he's angry. He grabs my hand and leads me back into the apartment and straight into my bedroom... no pa.s.sing go. My subconscious is behind the sofa again, head hidden under her hands. He switches on the sidelight and halts, staring at me.

"Please don't be angry with me," I whisper.

His gaze is impa.s.sive; his gray eyes cold shards of smoky gla.s.s.

"I'm sorry about the car and the books," I trail off. He remains silent and brooding.

"You scare me when you're angry," I breathe, staring at him.

He closes his eyes and shakes his head. When he opens them, his expression has softened fractionally. He takes a deep breath and swallows.

"Turn round," he whispers. "I want to get you out of that dress."

Another mercurial mood swing, it's so hard to keep up. Obediently, I turn and my heart is thumping, desire instantly replacing unease, coursing through my blood and settling dark and yearning low, low in my belly. He scoops my hair off my back so it hangs down my right side, curling at my breast. He places his index finger at the nape of my neck and achingly slowly drags it down my spine. His well-manicured fingernail gently grazes down my back.

"I like this dress," he murmurs. "I like to see your flawless skin."

His finger reaches the back of my halter dress midway down my spine, and hooking his finger beneath the top, he pulls me closer so that I step back against him. I feel him flush against my body. Leaning down, he inhales my hair.

"You smell so good, Anastasia. So sweet." His nose skims past my ear down my neck, and he trails soft, feather light kisses along my shoulder.

My breathing changes, becoming shallow, rushed, full of expectation. His fingers are at my zipper. Achingly slow, once more he eases it down while his lips move, licking and kissing and sucking their way across to my other shoulder. He is so tantalizingly good at this. My body resonates, and I start to squirm languidly beneath his touch.

"You. Are. Going. To. Have. To. Learn. To. Keep. Still," he whispers, kissing me around my nape between each word.

He tugs at the fastening at the halter neck, and the dress drops and pools at my feet.

"No bra, Miss Steele. I like that."

His hands reach round and cup my br**sts, and my ni**les pucker at his touch.

"Lift your arms and put them around my head," he murmurs against my neck.

I obey immediately, and my br**sts rise and push into his hands, my ni**les hardening further. My fingers weave into his hair, and very gently I tug his soft, s.e.xy hair. I roll my head to one side to give him easier access to my neck.

"Mmm... " he murmurs into that s.p.a.ce behind my ear, as he starts to extend my ni**les with his long fingers, mirroring my hands in his hair.

I groan as the sensation registers sharp and clear in my groin.

"Shall I make you come this way?" he whispers.

I arch my back to force my br**sts into his expert hands.

"You like this, don't you, Miss Steele?"

"Mmm... "

"Tell me." He continues the slow sensuous torture, pulling gently.

"Yes."

"Yes, what."

"Yes... Sir."

"Good girl." He pinches me hard, and my body writhes convulsively against his front.

I gasp at the exquisite, acute, pleasure/pain. I feel him against me. I moan and my hands clench in his hair pulling harder.

"I don't think you're ready to come yet," he whispers, stilling his hands, and he gently bites my earlobe and tugs at it. "Besides, you have displeased me."

Oh... no, what will this mean My brain registers through the fog of needy desire as I groan.

"So perhaps I won't let you come after all." He returns the attention of his fingers to my ni**les, pulling, twisting, kneading. I grind my behind against him... moving side to side.

I feel his grin against my neck as his hands move down to my hips. His fingers hook into my panties at the back, stretching them, and he pushes his thumbs through the material, shredding them and tossing them in front of me so I can see ... holy s.h.i.t. His hands move down to my s.e.x... and from behind, he slowly inserts his finger.

"Oh, yes. My sweet girl is all ready," he breathes as he whirls me round so I'm facing him. His breathing has quickened. He puts his finger in his mouth. "You taste so fine, Miss Steele." He sighs. "Undress me," he commands quietly, staring down at me, eyes hooded.