“You say my name.”

“That shocks you?”

“The fact that I like it shocks me.”

“Christian.”

He grins.

“I want to do something tomorrow.” His eyes glow with excitement.

“What?”

“A surprise. For you.” His voice is low and soft.

I raise an eyebrow and stifle a yawn at the same time.

“Am I boring you, Miss Steele?” His tone is sardonic.

“Never.”

He leans across and kisses me gently on my lips.

“Sleep,” he commands, then switches off the light.

And in this quiet moment, as I close my eyes, spent and sated, I think I’m in the eye of

the storm. And in spite of all he’s said, and what he hasn’t said, I don’t think I have ever

been so happy.

Christian stands in a steel-barred cage. Wearing his soft, ripped jeans, his chest and feet

are mouthwateringly naked, and he’s staring at me. His private-joke smile etched on his

beautiful face and his eyes a molten gray. In his hands he holds a bowl of strawberries.

He ambles with athletic grace to the front of the cage, gazing intently at me. Holding up a

plump ripe strawberry, he extends his hand through the bars.

“Eat,” he says, his tongue caressing the front of his palate as he enunciates the ‘t’.

I try and move toward him, but I’m tethered, held back by some unseen force around

my wrist, holding me . Let me go.

“Come, eat,” he says, smiling his delicious crooked smile.

I pull and pull… let me go!I want to scream and shout, but no sound emerges. I am

mute. He stretches a little further, and the strawberry is at my lips.

“Eat, Anastasia.” His mouth forms my name, lingering sensually on each syllable.

I open my mouth and bite, the cage disappears, and my hands are free. I reach up to

touch him, graze my fingers through his chest hair.

“Anastasia.”

No.I moan.

“Come on, baby.”

No. I want to touch you.

“Wake up.”

No. Please.My eyes flicker unwillingly open for a split second. I’m in bed and some-

one is nuzzling my ear.

“Wake up, baby,” he whispers, and the effect of his sweet voice spreads like warm

melted caramel through my veins.

It’s Christian. Jeez, it’s still dark, and the images of him from my dream persists, dis-

concerting and tantalizing in my head.

“Oh… no,” I groan. I want back at his chest, back to my dream. Why is he waking me?

It’s the middle of the night, or so it feels . Holy shit.Does he want sex – now?

“Time to get up, baby. I’m going to switch on the sidelight.” His voice is quiet.

“No,” I groan.

“I want to chase the dawn with you,” he says, kissing my face, my eyelids, the tip of

my nose, my mouth, and I open my eyes. The sidelight is on. “Good morning, beautiful,”

he murmurs.

I groan, and he smiles.

“You are not a morning person,” he murmurs.

Through the haze of light, I squint and see Christian leaning over me, smiling. Amused.

Amused at me. Dressed! In black.

“I thought you wanted sex,” I grumble.

“Anastasia, I always want sex with you. It’s heartwarming to know that you feel the

same,” he says dryly.

I gaze at him as my eyes adjust to the light, but he still looks amused… thank heavens.

“Of course I do, just not when it’s so late.”

“It’s not late, it’s early. Come on – up you go. We’re going out. I’ll take a rain check

on the sex.”

“I was having such a nice dream,” I whine.

“Dream about what?” he asks patiently.

“You.” I blush.

“What was I doing this time?”

“Trying to feed me strawberries.”

His lips twitch with a trace of a smile.

“Dr. Flynn could have a field day with that. Up – get dressed. Don’t bother to shower,

we can do that later.”

We!

I sit up, and the sheet pools at my waist, revealing my body. He stands to give me

room, his eyes dark.

“What time is it?”

“5:30 in the morning.”

“Feels like 3:00 a.m.”

“We don’t have much time. I let you sleep as long as possible. Come.”

“Can’t I have a shower?”

He sighs.

“If you have a shower, I’ll want one with you, and you and I know what will happen

then – the day will just go. Come.”

He’s excited. Like a small boy, he’s iridescent with anticipation and excitement. It

makes me smile.

“What are we doing?’

“It’s a surprise. I told you.”

I can’t help but grin up at him.

“Okay.” I clamber off the bed and search for my clothes. Of course they are neatly

folded on the chair beside my bed. He’s laid out a pair of his jersey boxer briefs too, Ralph

Lauren, no less. I slip them on, and he grins at me. Hmm, another piece of Christian

Grey’s underwear – a trophy to add to my collection – along with the car, the BlackBerry,

the Mac, his black jacket, and a set of old valuable first editions. I shake my head at his lar-

gesse, and I frown as a scene from Tess crosses my mind: the strawberry scene. It evokes

my dream. To hell with Dr. Flynn – Freud would have a field day – and then he’d probably

expire trying to deal with Fifty Shades.

“I’ll give you some room now that you’re up.” Christian exits toward the living area,

and I wander into the bathroom. I have needs to attend to, and I want a quick wash. Seven

minutes later, I am in the living area, scrubbed, brushed and dressed in jeans, my camisole,

and Christian Grey’s underwear. Christian glances up from the small dining table where

he’s eating breakfast. Breakfast! Jeez, at this time.

“Eat,” he says.

Holy Moses… my dream.I gape at him, thinking about his tongue on his palate. Hmm,

his expert tongue.

“Anastasia,” he says sternly, pulling me out of my reverie.

It really is too early for me. How to handle this?

“I’ll have some tea. Can I take a croissant for later?”

He eyes me suspiciously, and I smile very sweetly.

“Don’t rain on my parade, Anastasia,” he warns softly.

“I will eat later when my stomach’s woken up. About 7:30 a.m.… okay?”

“Okay.” He peers down at me.

Honestly.I have to concentrate hard on not making a face at him.

“I want to roll my eyes at you.”

“By all means, do, and you will make my day,” he says sternly.

I gaze up at the ceiling.

“Well a spanking would wake me up, I suppose.” I purse my lips in quiet contempla-

tion.

Christian’s mouth drops open.

“On the other hand, I don’t want you to be all hot and bothered, the climate here is

warm enough.” I shrug nonchalantly.

Christian closes his mouth and tries very hard to look displeased, but fails hopelessly.

I can see the humor lurking in the back of his eyes.

“You are, as ever, challenging, Miss Steele. Drink your tea.”

I notice the Twinings label, and inside, my heart sings. See, he does care,my subcon-

scious mouths at me. I sit and face him, drinking in his beauty. Will I ever get enough of

this man?

As we leave the room, Christian throws a sweatshirt at me.

“You’ll need this.”

I look at him, puzzled.

“Trust me.” He grins, leans over and kisses me quickly on the lips, then grabs my hand

and we head out.

Outside, in the relative cool of the half-light of pre-dawn, the valet hands Christian a

set of keys to a flash sports car with a soft top. I raise an eyebrow at Christian, who smirks

back at me.

“You know, sometimes it’s great being me,” he says with a conspiratorial but smug grin

that I simply can’t help emulating. He’s so lovable when he’s playful and carefree. He

opens my car door with an exaggerated bow, and in I climb. He is in such a good mood.