"Patience, Anastasia," he murmurs and pulls into the Seattle traffc.

He parks the Saab in the Escala garage and turns off the engine. Suddenly, in the confnes of the car, the atmosphere between us changes. With wanton antic.i.p.ation, I glance at him, trying to contain my palpitating heart. He's turned toward me, leaning against the door, his elbow propped on the steering wheel.

He pulls his lower lip with his thumb and index fnger. His mouth is so distracting.

I want it on me. He's watching me intently, his eyes dark gray. My mouth goes dry. He smiles a slow s.e.xy smile.

"We will f.u.c.k in the car at a time and place of my choosing. Right now, I want to take you on every available surface of my apartment."

It's like he's addressing me below the waist ... my inner G.o.ddess performs four ara- besques and a pas de Basque.

"Yes." Jeez, I sound so breathy, desperate.

He leans forward a fraction. I close my eyes, waiting for his kiss, thinking-fnally. But nothing happens. After a moment, I open my eyes to fnd him gazing at me. I can't fgure out what he's thinking, but before I can say anything, he distracts me once more.

"If I kiss you now we won't make it into the apartment. Come."Gah! Could this man be any more frustrating? He climbs out of the car.

Once again, we wait for the elevator, my body thrumming with antic.i.p.ation. Christian holds my hand, running his thumb rhythmically across my knuckles, each stroke echoing through me. Oh, I want his hands on all of me. He's tortured me long enough.

"So, what happened to instant gratifcation?" I murmur while we wait.

Christian smirks down at me.

"It's not appropriate in every situation, Anastasia."

"Since when?"

"Since this evening."

"Why are you torturing me so?"

"t.i.t for tat, Miss Steele."

"How am I torturing you?"

"I think you know."

I gaze up at him and his expression is diffcult to read. He wants my answer ... that's it.

"I'm into delayed gratifcation, too," I whisper, smiling shyly.

He tugs my hand unexpectedly, and suddenly I am in his arms. He grabs the hair at the nape of my neck, pulling gently so my head tips back.

"What can I do to make you say yes?" he asks fervently, throwing me off balance once more. I blink at him-at his lovely, serious, desperate expression.

"Give me some time? Please," I murmur. He groans and fnally he kisses me, long and hard. Then we're in the elevator, and we're all hands and mouths and tongues and lips and fngers and hair. Desire, thick and strong, lances through my blood, clouding all my reason.

He pushes me against the wall, pinning me with his hips, one hand in my hair, the other at my chin, holding me in place.

"You own me," he whispers. "My fate is in your hands, Ana."

His words are intoxicating, and in my overheated state, I want to rip off his clothes.

I push off his jacket, and as the elevator arrives at the apartment, we tumble out into the foyer.

Christian pins me to the wall by the elevator, his jacket falling to the foor, and his hand travels up my leg, his lips never leaving mine. He hoists up my dress.

"First surface here," he breathes and abruptly he lifts me. "Wrap your legs around me."

I do as I'm told, and he turns and lays me down on the foyer table, so he's standing between my legs. I'm aware that the usual vase of fowers is missing. Huh? Reaching into his jeans pocket, he fshes out a foil packet and hands it to me, undoing his fy.

"Do you know how much you turn me on?"

"What?" I pant. "No ... I ..."

"Well, you do," he mutters, "all the time." He grabs the foil packet from my hands. Oh, this is so quick, but after all his tantalizing teasing, I want him badly-right now. He gazes down at me as he rolls on the condom, then puts his hands under my thighs, spreading my legs wider. Positioning himself, he pauses. "Keep your eyes open. I want to see you," he whispers and clasping both my hands with his, he sinks slowly into me.

I try, I really do, but the feeling is so exquisite. What I've been waiting for after all his teasing. Oh, the fullness, this feeling ... I groan and arch my back off the table.

"Open!" he growls, tightening his hands on mine and thrusting sharply into me so that I cry out.

I blink my eyes open, and he stares down at me wide-eyed. Slowly he withdraws then sinks into me once more, his mouth slackening and then forming an Ah ... , but he says nothing. Seeing his arousal, his reaction to me-I light up inside, my blood scorching through my veins. His gray eyes burn into mine. He picks up the rhythm, and I revel in it, glory in it, watching him, watching me-his pa.s.sion, his love-as we come apart, together.

I call out as I explode around him, and Christian follows.

"Yes, Ana!" he cries. He collapses on me, releasing my hands and resting his head on my chest. My legs are still wrapped around him, and under the patient, maternal eyes of the Madonna paintings, I cradle his head against me and struggle to catch my breath.

He raises his head to look at me. "I'm not fnished with you yet," he murmurs and lean- ing up, he kisses me.

I lie naked in Christian's bed, sprawled over his chest, panting. Holy cow-does his energy ever wane? Christian trails his fngers up and down my back.

"Satisfed, Miss Steele?"

I murmur my a.s.sent. I have no energy left for talking. Raising my head, I turn unfo- cused eyes to him and bask in his warm, fond gaze. Very deliberately, I angle my head down so he knows I am going to kiss his chest.

He tenses momentarily, and I plant a soft kiss in his chest hair, breathing in his unique Christian smell, mixed with sweat and s.e.x. It's heady. He rolls onto his side so I'm lying beside him and gazes down at me.

"Is s.e.x like this for everyone? I'm surprised anyone ever goes out," I murmur, feeling suddenly shy.

He grins. "I can't speak for everyone, but it's pretty d.a.m.ned special with you, Anasta- sia." He bends and kisses me.

"That's because you're pretty d.a.m.ned special, Mr. Grey," I agree, smiling up at him and caressing his face. He blinks down at me at a loss.

"It's late. Go to sleep," he says. He kisses me, then lies down and pulls me to him so we're spooning in bed.

"You don't like compliments."

"Go to sleep, Anastasia."

Hmm ... But he is pretty d.a.m.ned special. Jeez ... why doesn't he realize this?

"I loved the house," I murmur.

He says nothing for a moment, but I sense his grin."I love you. Go to sleep." He nuzzles my hair, and I drift into sleep, safe in his arms, dreaming of sunsets and French doors and wide staircases ... and a small copper-haired boy running through a meadow, laughing and giggling as I chase him.

"Gotta go, baby." Christian kisses me just below my ear.

I open my eyes and it's morning. I turn to face him, but he's up and dressed and fresh and delicious, leaning over me.

"What time is it?" Oh no ... I don't want to be late.

"Don't panic. I have a breakfast meeting." He rubs his nose against mine.

"You smell good," I murmur, stretching out beneath him, my limbs pleasurably tight and creaky from all our exploits yesterday. I wrap my arms around his neck.

"Don't go."

He c.o.c.ks his head to one side and raises his eyebrow. "Miss Steele-are you trying to keep a man from an honest day's work?"

I nod sleepily at him, and he smiles his new shy smile.

"As tempting as you are, I have to go." He kisses me and stands. He's wearing a really sharp dark navy suit, white shirt and navy tie, and he looks every inch the CEO ... the hot CEO.

"Laters, baby," he murmurs and he's off.

Glancing at the clock I note it's already seven-I must have slept through the alarm.

Well, time to get up.

In the shower, inspiration hits me. I've thought of another birthday present for Christian.

It's so diffcult to buy something for the man who has everything. I've already given him my main present, and I still have the other item I bought at the tourist shop, but this is one present that will really be for me. I hug myself in antic.i.p.ation as I switch off the shower. I just have to prepare it.

In the walk-in closet, I put on a dark red ftted dress with a square neckline, cut quite low. Yes, this will do for work.

Now for Christian's present. I start rummaging through his drawers, looking for his ties. In the bottom drawer I fnd those faded, ripped jeans, the ones he wears in the play- room-the ones he looks so hot in. I stroke them gently, using my whole hand. Oh my, the material is so soft.Beneath them, I fnd a large, black, fat cardboard box. It piques my interest immedi- ately. What's in here? I stare at it, feeling like I'm trespa.s.sing again. Taking it out, I shake it. It's heavy as if it holds papers or ma.n.u.scripts. I cannot resist, I open the lid-and quickly shut it again. Holy f.u.c.k-photographs from the Red Room. The shock makes me sit back on my heels as I try to wipe the image from my brain. Why did I open the box? Why has he kept them?

I shudder. My subconscious scowls at me-this is before you. Forget them.

She's right. Standing up I notice his ties are hanging at the end of his clothes rail. I fnd my favorite and exit quickly.

I try to tell myself those photos are BA-Before Ana. My subconscious nods with ap- proval, but it's with a heavier heart that I head into the main room for breakfast. Mrs. Jones smiles at me warmly and then frowns.

"Everything all right, Ana?" she asks kindly.

"Yes," I murmur, distracted. "Do you have a key to the ... um, playroom?"

She pauses momentarily, surprised.

"Yes, of course." She unclips a small bunch of keys from her belt. "What would you like for breakfast, dear?" she asks as she hands me the keys.

"Just granola. I won't be long."

I feel more ambivalent about this gift now but only since the discovery of those pho- tographs. Nothing's changed, my subconscious barks at me again, glaring at me over her half-moon winged gla.s.ses. That picture was hot, my inner G.o.ddess chips in, and mentally I scowl at her. Yes it was-too hot for me.

What else does he have hidden away? Quickly I ferret through the museum chest, take what I need, and lock the playroom door behind me. Wouldn't do for Jose to discover this!

I hand the keys back to Mrs. Jones and sit down to devour my breakfast, feeling odd that Christian is absent. The photograph image dances unwelcome around my mind. I won- der who it was? Leila perhaps?

On my drive in to work, I debate whether or not to tell Christian I found his photographs.

No, screams my subconscious, her Edvard Munch face on. I decide she's probably right.

As I sit down at my desk, my Blackberry buzzes.

From: Christian Grey Subject: Surfaces Date: June 17, 2011 08:59 To: Anastasia SteeleI calculate that there are at least 30 surfaces to go. I am looking forward to each and every one of them. Then there's the foors, the walls-and let's not forget the balcony.

After that there's my offce ...

Miss you. x Christian Grey Priapic CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

His e-mail makes me smile, and all my earlier reservations evaporate. It's me he wants now, and memories of last night's s.e.xcapades food my mind ... the elevator, the foyer, the bed. Priapic is right. I wonder idly what the female equivalent might be?

From: Anastasia Steele Subject: Romance?

Date: June 17, 2011 09:03 To: Christian Grey Mr. GreyYou have a one-track mind.

I missed you at breakfast But Mrs. Jones was very accommodating.

Ax From: Christian Grey Subject: Intrigued Date: June 17, 2011 09:07 To: Anastasia Steele What was Mrs. Jones accommodating about?

What are you up to Miss Steele?

Christian Grey Curious CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

How does he know?

From: Anastasia Steele Subject: Tapping Nose Date: June 17, 2011 09:10 To: Christian GreyWait and see-it's a surprise.

I need to work ... let me be.

Love you.

A x From: Christian Grey Subject: Frustrated Date: June 17, 2011 09:12 To: Anastasia Steele I hate it when you keep things from me.

Christian Grey CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

I stare at the small screen of my Blackberry. The vehemence implicit in his e-mail takes me by surprise. Why does he feel like this? It's not like I'm hiding erotic photographs of my exes.