"Yes," I murmur with longing. He undoes his fy, as I lie panting on the table, knowing that he's going to be rough.

I marvel once more at how I have managed-and yes, enjoyed- what he's done to me up to this point. It's so dark but so him.

He eases two fngers inside me and moves them in a circular motion. The feeling is exquisite. Closing my eyes, I revel in the sensation. I hear the telltale rip of foil, then he's standing behind me, between my legs, pushing them wider.

Slowly he sinks into me, flling me. I hear his groan of pure pleasure, and it stirs my soul. He grasps my hips frmly, eases out of me again, and this time slams back into me, causing me to cry out. He stills for a moment.

"Again?" he asks softly.

"Yes ... I'm fne. Lose yourself ... take me with you," I murmur breathlessly.

He moans low in his throat, eases out of me once more, then slams into me, and repeats this over and over slowly, deliberately-a punishing, brutal, heavenly rhythm.

Oh f.u.c.king my . . . My insides begin to quicken. He feels it, too, and increases the rhythm, pushing me, higher, harder, faster-and I surrender, exploding around him-a draining, soul-grabbing o.r.g.a.s.m that leaves me spent and exhausted.

I'm vaguely aware that Christian, too, is letting go, calling my name, his fngers dig- ging into my hips, and then he stills and collapses on me. We sink to the foor, and he cradles me in his arms.

"Thank you, baby," he breathes, covering my upturned face in soft feather-light kisses.

I open my eyes and gaze up at him, and he wraps his arms tighter around me.

"Your cheek is pink from the baize," he murmurs, rubbing my face tenderly. "How was that?" His eyes are wide and cautious.

"Teeth-clenchingly good," I mutter. "I like it rough, Christian, and I like it gentle, too.

I like that it's with you."

He closes his eyes and hugs me even tighter.

Jeez, I'm tired.

"You never fail, Ana. You are beautiful, bright, challenging, fun, s.e.xy, and I thank divine providence every day that it was you that came to interview me and not Katherine Kavanagh." He kisses my hair. I smile and yawn against his chest. "I'm wearing you out,"

he continues. "Come. Bath, then bed."

We are both in Christian's bath, facing each other chin-deep in foam, the sweet scent of jasmine enveloping us. Christian is ma.s.saging my feet, one at a time. It feels so good it should be illegal.

"Can I ask you something?" I murmur.

"Of course. Anything, Ana, you know that."

I take a deep breath and sit up, finching only slightly."Tomorrow-when I go to work-can Sawyer just deliver me to the front door of the offce then pick me up at the end of the day? Please, Christian. Please," I plead.

His hands still as his brow creases. "I thought we agreed," he grumbles.

"Please," I beg.

"What about lunchtime?"

"I'll make myself something to take from here so I don't have to go out, please."

He kisses my instep. "I fnd it very diffcult to say no to you," he mutters as if he senses this is a failing on his part. "You won't go out?"

"No."

"Okay."

I beam at him. "Thank you." I lean up onto my knees, sloshing water everywhere, and kiss him.

"You're most welcome, Miss Steele. How's your behind?"

"Sore. But not too bad. The water is soothing."

"I'm glad you told me to stop," he says, gazing at me.

"So is my behind."

He grins.

I stretch out in bed, so tired. It's only ten thirty, but it feels like three in the morning. This has to be one of the most exhausting weekends of my life.

"Didn't Ms. Acton provide any nightwear?" Christian asks, his voice laced with disap- proval as he stares down at me.

"I have no idea. I like wearing your T-shirts," I mumble sleepily.

His face softens, and he leans over and kisses my forehead.

"I need to work. But I don't want to leave you alone. Can I use your laptop to log in to the offce? Will I disturb you if I work from here?"

"S'not my laptop." I drift.

The alarm clicks on, startling me awake with the traffc news. Christian is still asleep be- side me. Rubbing my eyes, I glance at the clock. Six thirty-too early.

It's raining outside for the frst time in ages, and the light is muted and mellow. I'm cozy and comfortable in this vast modern monolith with Christian at my side. I stretch and turn to the delicious man beside me. His eyes spring open and he blinks sleepily.

"Good morning." I smile and caress his face, leaning down to kiss him.

"Good morning, baby. I usually wake before the alarm goes off," he murmurs in won- der.

"It's set so early."

"That it is, Miss Steele." Christian grins. "I have to get up." He kisses me, and then he's up and out of bed. I fop back against the pillows. Wow, waking up on a school day next to Christian Grey. How did this all happen? I close my eyes and doze."Come on, sleepyhead, get up." Christian leans over me. He's shaved, clean, fresh- Hmm, he smells so good-in a crisp white shirt and black suit, no tie-the CEO is back.

Holy Moses, he looks good like this, too.

"What?" he asks.

"I wish you'd come back to bed."

His lips part, surprised by my come-on, and he smiles almost shyly. "You are insa- tiable, Miss Steele. As much as that idea appeals, I have an eight thirty meeting, so I have to go shortly."

Oh, I've slept for another hour or so. s.h.i.t. I leap out of bed, much to Christian's amuse- ment.

I shower and dress quickly, wearing the clothes I set out yesterday: a ftted, gray pencil skirt; pale-gray silk shirt; and high-heeled black pumps, all care of my new wardrobe. I brush my hair and carefully put it up, then wander out to the great room, not really knowing what to expect. How am I going to get to work?

Christian is sipping coffee at the breakfast bar. Mrs. Jones is in the kitchen making pancakes and bacon.

"You look lovely," Christian murmurs. Wrapping an arm around me, he kisses me un- der my ear. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Mrs. Jones's smile. I fush.

"Good morning, Miss Steele," she says as she places pancakes and bacon in front of me.

"Oh, thank you. Good morning," I mumble. Jeez-I could get used to this.

"Mr. Grey says you'd like to take lunch with you to work. What would you like to eat?"

I glance at Christian, who is trying very hard not to smirk. I narrow my eyes at him.

"A sandwich ... salad. I really don't mind." I beam at Mrs. Jones.

"I'll rustle up a packed lunch for you, ma'am."

"Please, Mrs. Jones, call me Ana."

"Ana." She smiles and turns to make me tea.

Wow ... this is so cool.

I turn and c.o.c.k my head at Christian, challenging him-go on, accuse me of firting with Mrs. Jones.

"I have to go, baby. Taylor will come back and drop you at work with Sawyer."

"Only to the door."

"Yes. Only to the door." Christian rolls his eyes. "Be careful, though."

I glance around and spy Taylor standing in the entranceway. Christian stands and kisses me, grasping my chin.

"Laters, baby."

"Have a good day at the offce, dear," I call after him. He turns and fashes me his beau- tiful smile then he's gone. Mrs. Jones hands me a cup of tea, and suddenly I feel awkward with just the two of us here.

"How long have you worked for Christian?" I ask, thinking I ought to make some kind of conversation."Four years or so," she says pleasantly, as she sets about making my packed lunch.

"You know, I can do that," I mutter, embarra.s.sed that she should be doing this for me.

"You eat your breakfast, Ana. This is what I do. I enjoy it. It's nice to look after some- one other than Mr. Taylor and Mr. Grey." She smiles very sweetly at me.

My cheeks pink with pleasure, and I want to bombard this woman with questions. She must know so much about Fifty, and although her manner is warm and friendly, it's also very professional. I know I'll only embarra.s.s both of us if I start quizzing her, so I fnish my breakfast in a reasonably comfortable silence, punctuated only by her questions on my food preferences for lunch.

Twenty-fve minutes later Sawyer appears at the entrance to the great room. I have brushed my teeth, and I'm waiting to go. Clutching my brown paper lunch bag-I can't even remember my mom doing this for me-Sawyer and I head to the frst foor via the elevator. He's very taciturn, too, giving nothing away. Taylor is waiting in the Audi, and I climb into the rear pa.s.senger seat when Sawyer opens the door.

"Good morning, Taylor," I say brightly.

"Miss Steele." He smiles.

"Taylor, I'm sorry about yesterday and my inappropriate remarks. I hope I didn't get you into trouble."

Taylor frowns in bemus.e.m.e.nt at me from the rearview mirror as he pulls out into the Seattle traffc.

"Miss Steele, I'm rarely in trouble," he says rea.s.suringly.

Oh good. Maybe Christian didn't tell him off. Just me, then, I think sourly.

"I'm glad to hear it, Taylor." I smile.

Jack gazes at me, a.s.sessing my appearance, as I make my way to my desk.

"Morning, Ana. Good weekend?"

"Yes, thanks. You?"

"It was good. Get settled in-I have work for you to do."

I nod and sit down at my computer. It seems like years since I was at work. I switch on my computer and fre up my e-mail program-and of course there's an e-mail from Christian.

From: Christian Grey Subject: Boss Date: June 13, 2011 08:24 To: Anastasia Steele Good morning, Miss Steele I just wanted to say thank you for a wonderful weekend in spite of all the drama.

I hope you never leave, ever. And just to remind you that the news of SIP is embargoed for four weeks.

Delete this e-mail as soon as you've read it.

Yours Christian Grey, CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc. & Your boss's boss's boss.

Hope I never leave? Does he want me to move in? Holy Moses ... I barely know the man.

I press delete.

From: Anastasia Steele Subject: Bossy Date: June 13, 2011: 09:03 To: Christian Grey Dear Mr. Grey Are you asking me to move in with you? And of course, I remembered that the evidence of your epic stalking capabilities is embargoed for another four weeks. Do I make a check out to Coping Together and send to your dad? Please don't delete this e-mail. Please respond to it.

ILY x.x.x Anastasia Steele a.s.sistant to Jack Hyde, Commissioning Editor, SIP "Ana!" Jack makes me jump.

"Yes," I fush, and Jack frowns at me.

"Everything okay?"

"Sure." I scramble up and take my notebook into his offce.

"Good. As you probably remember, I'm going to that Commissioning Fiction Sympo- sium in New York on Thursday. I have tickets and reservations, but I'd like you to come with me."