I miss you and your smart mouth, Miss Steele.
I want you safely home.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
* * *
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Apology Accepted
Date: June 3 2011 13:10 EST
To: Christian Grey
They are shutting the doors. You won't hear another peep from me, especially given your deafness.
Laters.
Ana x
My kiss is back. Well, that's a relief. Grudgingly, I drag myself away from the computer screen and pick up my phone to call Welch.
AT ONE O'CLOCK I decline Andrea's offer of lunch at my desk. I need to get out. The walls of my office are closing in on me, and I think it's because there's been no news about Leila.
I'm worried about her. Hell, she came to see me. She decided to use my home as her stage. How could I not take this personally? Why didn't she e-mail me or phone? If she was in trouble, I could have helped. I would have helped--I've done it before.
I need some fresh air. I march past Olivia and Andrea, who both look busy, though I catch Andrea's puzzled look as I step into the elevator.
Outside, it's a bright, bustling afternoon. I take a deep breath and detect the soothing tang of salt water from the Sound. Perhaps I should take the rest of the day off? But I can't. I have a meeting with the mayor this afternoon. It's irritating--I'm seeing him tomorrow at the Chamber of Commerce gala.
The gala!
Suddenly I have an idea, and with a renewed sense of purpose I head toward a small store I know.
AFTER MY MEETING AT the mayor's office, I walk the ten or so blocks back to Escala; Taylor has gone to collect Ana from the airport. Gail is in the kitchen when I enter the living room.
"Good evening, Mr. Grey."
"Hi, Gail. How was your day?"
"Good, thank you, sir."
"Feeling better?"
"Yes, sir. The clothes arrived for Miss Steele--I unpacked them and hung them in the closet in her room."
"Great. No sign of Leila?" Dumb question: Gail would have called me.
"No, sir. This also arrived." She holds up a small red store bag.
"Good." I take the bag from her, ignoring the delighted twinkle in her eye.
"How many for supper this evening?"
"Two, thanks. And Gail--"
"Sir?"
"Can you put the satin sheets on the playroom bed?"
I really hope to get Ana in there at some point over the weekend. "Yes, Mr. Grey," she says, her tone a little surprised. She turns back to whatever she's conjuring in the kitchen, leaving me a little baffled by her behavior.
Maybe Gail doesn't approve, but it's what I want from Ana.
In my study I take the Cartier box from its bag. It's a present for Ana, which I'll give to her tomorrow in time for the gala: a pair of earrings. Simple. Elegant. Beautiful. Just like her. I smile; even in her chucks and jeans she has a certain gamine charm.
I hope she accepts my gift. As my submissive, she'd have no choice, but under our alternative arrangement, I don't know what her reaction will be. Whatever the outcome, it will be interesting. She always surprises me. As I put the box in my desk drawer a ping on my computer distracts me. Barney's latest tablet designs are in my inbox, and I'm eager to see them.
Five minutes later, Welch calls.
"Mr. Grey," he wheezes.
"Yes. What news?"
"I spoke with Russell Reed, Mrs. Reed's husband."
"And?" Immediately I'm agitated. I storm out of my study and across the living room to the windows.
"He says his wife is away visiting her parents," Welch reports.
"What?"
"Precisely." Welch sounds as pissed as I am.
Seeing Seattle at my feet, knowing Mrs. Reed aka Leila Williams is out there somewhere, increases my irritation. I rake my fingers through my hair.
"Maybe that's what she told him."
"Maybe," he says. "But we've found nothing so far."
"No trace?" I can't believe she could just disappear.
"Nothing. But if she so much as uses an ATM, cashes a check, or logs in to her social media, we'll find her."
"Okay."
"We'd like to scour the CCTV footage from around the hospital. It's going to cost money and take a little longer. Is that acceptable?"
"Yes." A tingle prickles my scalp--not from the call. For some unknown reason I sense I'm being watched. Turning, I see Ana standing on the threshold of the room, scrutinizing me, her brow furrowed and her lips pensive, and she's wearing a short, short skirt. She's all eyes and legs...especially legs. I imagine them wrapped around my waist.
Desire, raw and real, fires my blood as I stare.
"We'll get right on it," Welch says.
I finish up with him, my eyes fixed on Ana's, and I prowl toward her, stripping off my jacket and tie and tossing them onto the sofa.
Ana.
I wrap my arms around her, tugging at her ponytail, lifting her eager lips to mine. She tastes of heaven and home and fall and Ana. Her scent invades my nostrils as I take everything her warm, sweet mouth has to offer. My body hardens with expectation and hunger as our tongues entwine. I want to lose myself in her, to forget about the shitty end to my week, forget about everything but her.
My lips feverish against hers, I tug the hair tie from her ponytail as her fingers knot in mine. I'm suddenly overwhelmed by my need, desperate for her. And I pull away, staring down into a face that's dazed with passion.
I feel the same way. What is she doing to me?
"What's wrong?" she whispers.
And the answer is clear, ringing in my head.
I've missed you.
"I'm so glad you're back. Shower with me. Now."
"Yes," she responds, her voice hoarse. I take her hand and we head to my bathroom. I turn on the shower, then face her. She's gorgeous, her eyes bright and gleaming with anticipation, as she watches me. My gaze rakes down her body to her naked legs. I've never seen her in such a short skirt, with so much of her flesh on display, and I'm not sure I approve. She's for my eyes only.
"I like your skirt. It's very short." Too short. "You have great legs." Stepping out of my shoes, I take off my socks, and without breaking eye contact, she, too, slips off her shoes.
Fuck the shower. I want her now.
Stepping toward her, I clasp her head, and we step back so she's against the tiled wall, her lips parting as she inhales. Holding her face and lacing my fingers into her hair, I kiss her: her cheek, her throat, her mouth. She's nectar and I can't get enough. Her breath catches in her throat and she grasps my arms, but at her touch there's no protest from the darkness within. There's just Ana, in all her beauty and innocence, kissing me back with a fervor that matches mine.
My blood is thick with desire, my erection painful. "I want you now. Here...fast, hard," I murmur, as my hand runs up her naked thigh beneath her skirt. "Are you still bleeding?"
"No."
"Good." I push her skirt up over her hips, hook both thumbs into her cotton panties and drop to the floor, kneeling, slipping the panties down her legs.
She gasps when I grab her hips and kiss the sweet junction beneath her pubic hair. Moving my hands to the backs of her thighs, I part her legs, exposing her clitoris to my tongue. When I start my sensual assault her fingers dive into my hair. My tongue torments her, and she moans and tips her head back against the wall.
She smells exquisite. She tastes better.
As she purrs she tilts her pelvis toward my invading, insistent tongue, and her legs begin to tremble.
Enough. I want to come inside her.
It will be my skin against her skin again, like in Savannah. Releasing her, I stand and grasp her face, capturing her surprised and disappointed mouth with mine, kissing her hard. I unzip my fly and lift her, clutching her under her thighs. "Wrap your legs around me, baby." My voice is rough and urgent. As soon as she
does, I thrust forward, sliding into her.
She's mine. She's heaven.
Clinging to me, she whimpers as I plunge into her--slowly at first, then building as my body takes control, driving me forward, driving me into her, faster and faster, harder and harder, my face at her throat. She moans and I feel her quicken around me, and I'm lost, in her, in us, as she climaxes, crying out her release. The feel of her pulsing around me tips me over the edge and I come deep and hard inside her, growling out a garbled version of her name.
I kiss her throat, not wanting to withdraw, waiting for her to calm. We're in a cloud of steam from the shower, and my shirt and pants are sticking to my body, but I don't care. Ana's breathing slows, and she feels weightier in my arms as she relaxes. Her expression is wanton and dazed as I pull out of her, so I hold her fast while she finds her feet. Her lips rise in a winsome smile. "You seem pleased to see me," she says.
"Yes, Miss Steele, I think my pleasure is pretty self-evident. Come--let me get you in the shower."
I undress quickly, and when I'm naked I begin undoing the buttons on Ana's blouse. Her eyes move from my fingers to my face.
"How was your journey?" I ask.
"Fine, thank you," she says, her voice a little throaty. "Thanks once again for first class. It really is a much nicer way to travel." She takes a quick breath, as if she's steeling herself. "I have some news," she says.
"Oh?" What now? I remove her blouse and deposit it on top of my clothes.
"I have a job." She sounds reticent.
Why? Did she think I'd be angry? Of course she's found a job. Pride swells in my chest. "Congratulations, Miss Steele. Now will you tell me where?" I ask with a smile.
"You don't know?"
"Why would I know?"
"With your stalking capabilities, I thought you might have--" She stops to study my face.
"Anastasia, I wouldn't dream of interfering in your career. Unless you ask me to, of course."
"So you have no idea which company?"
"No. I know there are four publishing companies in Seattle--so I am assuming it's one of them."
"SIP," she announces.
"Oh, the small one, good. Well done." It's the company that Ros identified as ripe for takeover. This will be easy.
I kiss Ana's forehead. "Clever girl. When do you start?"
"Monday."
"That soon, eh? I'd better take advantage of you while I still can. Turn around."
She obeys immediately. I remove her bra and skirt, then cup her behind and kiss her shoulder. Leaning against her, I nuzzle her hair. Her scent lingers in my nostrils, soothing, familiar, and uniquely Ana. The feel of her body against mine is both calming and enticing. She really is the whole package.
"You intoxicate me, Miss Steele, and you calm me. Such a heady combination." Grateful that she's here, I kiss her hair, then take her hand and pull her into the hot shower.
"Ow," she squeaks and closes her eyes, flinching under the steamy cascade.
"It's only a little hot water." I grin down at her. Opening one eye, she lifts her chin and slowly surrenders to the heat.
"Turn around," I order. "I want to wash you." She complies, and I squeeze some shower gel on my hand, work up a lather, and begin to massage her shoulders.
"I have something else to tell you," she says, her shoulders tensing.
"Oh yes?" I keep my voice mild. Why is she tense? My hands glide over her chest to her beautiful breasts.
"My friend Jose's photography show is opening Thursday in Portland."
"Yes, what about it?" The photographer again?
"I said I would go. Do you want to come with me?" The words come in a rush, as if she's anxious to get them out.
An invitation? I'm stunned. I only get invitations from my family, from work, and from Elena.
"What time?"
"The opening is at seven thirty."
This will count as more, surely. I kiss her ear and whisper, "Okay." Her shoulders soften as she leans back against me. She seems relieved and I'm not sure whether to be amused or annoyed. Am I really that unapproachable?
"Were you nervous about asking me?"
"Yes. How can you tell?"
"Anastasia, your whole body's just relaxed." I mask my irritation.
"Well, you just seem to be, um...on the jealous side."
Yes. I'm jealous. The thought of Ana with anyone else is...unsettling. Very unsettling. "Yes, I am. And you'd do well to remember that. But thank you for asking. We'll take Charlie Tango."
She flashes me a quick grin as my hands slide down her body, the body she's given to me and no one else.
"Can I wash you?" she asks, diverting me.
"I don't think so." I kiss her neck as I rinse her back.
"Will you ever let me touch you?" Her voice is a gentle entreaty, but it doesn't stop the darkness that's swirling suddenly from nowhere and tightening around my throat.
No.
I will it away, cupping and concentrating on Ana's ass, her fucking glorious behind. My body responds on a primal level--at war with the darkness. I need her. I need her to chase my fear away.
"Put your hands on the wall, Anastasia. I'm going to take you again," I whisper, and with a startled glance at me, she splays her hands on the tiles. I grab her hips, pulling her back from the wall. "Hold fast, Anastasia," I warn, as the water streams over her back.
She bends her head and braces herself as my hands sweep through her pubic hair. She squirms, her behind brushing my arousal.
Fuck! And like that, my residual fear melts away.
"Do you want this?" I ask as my fingers tease her. In answer she wiggles her butt against my erection, making me smile. "Tell me," I demand, my voice strained.
"Yes." Her agreement slices through the pouring water, keeping the darkness at bay.
Oh, baby.
She's still wet from earlier--from me, from her--I don't know. In the moment I give a silent word of thanks to Dr. Greene: no more condoms. I ease into Ana and slowly, deliberately make her mine again.
I WRAP HER IN a bathrobe and kiss her soundly. "Dry your hair," I order, handing her a hair dryer I never use. "Are you hungry?"
"Famished," she admits, and I don't know if she means it or if she's said it merely to please me. But pleased I am.
"Great. Me, too. I'll check where Mrs. Jones is with dinner. You have ten minutes. Don't get dressed." I kiss her once more and pad out to the kitchen.
Gail is washing something at the sink. She looks up as I peer over her shoulder.
"Clams, Mr. Grey," she says.
Delicious. Pasta alle Vongole, one of my favorites.
"Ten minutes?" I ask.
"Twelve," she says.
"Great."
She gives me a look as I head into my study. I ignore it. She's seen me in less than my bathrobe before--what the hell is her problem?
I check through some e-mails and my phone to see if there's any news about Leila. Nothing--but since Ana's arrival, I don't feel as hopeless as I did earlier.
Ana enters the kitchen at the same time that I do, lured no doubt by the tantalizing smell of our dinner. When she sees Mrs. Jones she clutches the neck of her bathrobe.
"Just in time," Gail says, serving our meal in two large bowls at the place settings on the counter.
"Sit." I point to one of the barstools. Ana's anxious eyes pass from me to Mrs. Jones.
She's self-conscious.
Baby, I have staff. Get over it.
"Wine?" I offer, to distract her.
"Please," she says, sounding reserved as she takes her seat.
I open a bottle of Sancerre and pour two small glasses.
"There's cheese in the fridge if you'd like, sir," Gail says. I nod, and she exits the room, much to Ana's relief. I take my seat.
"Cheers." I raise my glass.
"Cheers," Ana replies, and the crystal glasses sing as we clink. She takes a bite of her food and makes an appreciative noise in the back of her throat. Pe
rhaps she is famished.
"Are you going to tell me?" she asks.
"Tell you what?" Mrs. Jones has outdone herself; the pasta tastes delicious.
"What I said in my sleep."
I shake my head. "Eat up. You know I like watching you eat."
She pouts with mock exasperation. "You are so pervy," she exclaims under her breath.
Oh, baby, you have no idea. And a thought springs to mind: maybe we should explore something new in the playroom tonight. Something fun.
"Tell me about this friend of yours," I ask.
"My friend?"
"The photographer." I keep my voice light, but she regards me with a fleeting frown.
"Well, we met the first day of college. He's an engineering major, but his passion is photography."
"And?"
"That's it." Her evasive answers are irritating.
"Nothing else?"
She tosses her hair over her shoulder. "We've become good friends. It turns out my dad and Jose's dad served together in the military before I was born. They've gotten back in touch, and they're now best buds."
Oh. "Your dad and his dad?"
"Yeah." She twirls more pasta around her fork.
"I see."
"This tastes delicious." She gives me a contented smile, and her robe gapes a little, revealing the swell of her breast. The sight stirs my cock.
"How are you feeling?" I ask.
"Fine," she says.
"Up for more?"
"More?"
"More wine?" More sex? In the playroom?
"A small glass, please."
I pour her a little more Sancerre. I don't want either of us to drink too much if we're going to play.
"How's the, um...situation that brought you to Seattle?"
Leila. Shit. This I do not want to discuss. "Out of hand. But nothing for you to worry about, Anastasia. I have plans for you this evening."
I want to see if we can play this so-called arrangement of ours both ways.
"Oh?"
"Yes. I want you ready and waiting in my playroom in fifteen minutes." I stand up, watching her closely to gauge her reaction. She takes a quick sip of her wine, her pupils widening. "You can get ready in your room. Incidentally, the walk-in closet is now full of clothes for you. I don't want any arguments about them."
Her mouth sets in a surprised o. And I give her a stern look, daring her to argue with me. Remarkably, she says nothing, and I head off to my study to send a quick e-mail to Ros telling her I want to start the process to acquire SIP as soon as possible.
I scan a couple of work e-mails, but see nothing in my inbox about Mrs. Reed. I put thoughts of Leila out of my mind; she's preoccupied me for the last twenty-four hours. Tonight I'm going to focus on Ana--and have some fun.