“Oh, yes.” He grins.

I shake my head amused, and before I realize it, I roll my eyes at him.

“Did you just roll your eyes at me, Anastasia?” He breathes.

Oh fuck.

“Possibly, depends what your reaction is.”

“Same as always,” he says, shaking his head slightly, his eyes alight with excitement.

I swallow instinctively and a frisson of exhilaration runs through me.

“So... ” Holy shit. What am I going to do?

“Yes?” He licks his lower lip.

“You want to spank me now.”

“Yes. And I will.”

“Oh, really, Mr. Grey?” I challenge, grinning back at him. Two can play this game.

“Are you going to stop me?”

“You’re going to have to catch me first.”

His eyes widen a fraction, and he grins, slowly getting to his feet.

“Oh, really, Miss Steele?”

The breakfast bar is between us. I have never been so grateful for its existence than in

this moment.

“And you’re biting your lip,” he breathes, moving slowly to his left as I move to mine.

“You wouldn’t,” I tease. “After all, you roll your eyes.” I try reasoning with him. He

continues to move toward his left, as do I.

“Yes, but you’ve just raised the bar on the excitement stakes with this game.” His eyes

blaze, and wild anticipation emanates from him.

“I’m quite fast you know.” I try for nonchalance.

“So am I.”

He’s stalking me, in his own kitchen.

“Are you going to come quietly?” he asks.

“Do I ever?”

“Miss Steele, what do you mean?” he smirks. “It’ll be worse for you if I have to come

and get you.”

“That’s only if you catch me, Christian. And right now, I have no intention of letting

you catch me.”

“Anastasia, you may fall and hurt yourself. Which will put you in direct contravention

of rule number seven.”

“I have been in danger since I met you, Mr. Grey, rules or no rules.”

“Yes you have.” He pauses, and his brow furrows slightly.

Suddenly, he lunges for me, making me squeal and run for the dining room table. I

manage to escape, putting the table between us. My heart is pounding and adrenaline has

spiked through my body… boy... this is so thrilling. I’m a child again, though that’s not

right. I watch him carefully as he paces deliberately toward me. I inch away.

“You certainly know how to distract a man, Anastasia.”

“We aim to please, Mr. Grey. Distract you from what?”

“Life. The universe.” He waves one of his hands vaguely.

“You did seem very pre-occupied as you were playing.”

He stops and folds his arms, his expression amused.

“We can do this all day, baby, but I will get you, and it will just be worse for you when

I do.”“No, you won’t.” I must not be over-confident. I repeat this as a mantra. My subcon-

scious has found her Nikes, and she’s on the starting blocks.

“Anyone would think you didn’t want me to catch you.”

“I don’t. That’s the point. I feel about punishment the way you feel about me touching

you.”His entire demeanor changes in a nanosecond. Gone is playful Christian, and he stands

staring at me as if I’d slapped him. He’s ashen.

“That’s how you feel?” he whispers.

Those four words, and the way he utters them, speaks volumes. Oh no.They tell me so

much more about him and how he feels. They tell me about his fear and loathing. I frown.

No, I don’t feel thatbad. No way. Do I?

“No. It doesn’t affect me quite as much as that, but it gives you an idea,” I murmur,

staring anxiously at him.

“Oh,” he says.

Crap.He looks completely and utterly lost, like I’ve pulled the rug from under his feet.

Taking a deep breath, I move round the table until I am standing in front of him, gazing

into his apprehensive eyes.

“You hate it that much?” he breathes, his eyes filled with horror.

“Well… no,” I reassure him. Jeez – that’s how he feels about people touching him?

“No. I feel ambivalent about it. I don’t like it, but I don’t hate it.”

“But last night, in the playroom, you… ” he trails off.

“I do it for you, Christian, because you need it. I don’t. You didn’t hurt me last night.

That was in a different context, and I can rationalize that internally, and I trust you. But

when you want to punish me, I worry that you’ll hurt me.”

His gray eyes blaze like a turbulent storm. Time moves, and expands and slips away

before he answers softly.

“I want to hurt you. But not beyond anything that you couldn’t take.”

Fuck!

“Why?”

He runs his hand through his hair, and he shrugs.

“I just need it.” He pauses, gazing at me with anguish, and he closes his eyes and

shakes his head. “I can’t tell you,” he whispers.

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Won’t.”

“So you know why.”

“Yes.”

“But you won’t tell me.”

“If I do, you will run screaming from this room, and you’ll never want to return.” He

stares at me warily. “I can’t risk that, Anastasia.”

“You want me to stay.”

“More than you know. I couldn’t bear to lose you.”

Oh my.

He gazes down at me, and suddenly, he pulls me into his arms and he’s kissing me,

kissing me passionately. It takes me completely by surprise, and I sense his panic and

desperate need in his kiss.

“Don’t leave me. You said you wouldn’t leave me, and you begged me not to leave

you, in your sleep,” he murmurs against my lips.

Oh… my nocturnal confessions.

“I don’t want to go.” And my heart clenches, turning itself inside out.

This is a man in need. His fear is naked and obvious, but he’s lost… somewhere in his

darkness. His eyes wide and bleak and tortured. I can soothe him. Join him briefly in the

darkness and bring him into the light.

“Show me,” I whisper.

“Show you?”

“Show me how much it can hurt.”

“What?”

“Punish me. I want to know how bad it can get.”

Christian steps back away from me, completely confused.

“You would try?”

“Yes. I said I would.” But I have an ulterior motive. If I do this for him, maybe he will

let me touch him.

He blinks at me.

“Ana, you’re so confusing.”

“I’m confused too. I’m trying to work this out. And you and I will know, once and

for all, if I can do this. If I can handle this, then maybe you –” My words fail me, and his

eyes widen again. He knows I am referring to the touch thing. For a moment, he looks

torn, but then a steely resolve settles on his features, and he narrows his eyes, gazing at me

speculatively as if weighing up alternatives.

Abruptly, he clasps my arm in a firm grip and turns, leading me out of the great room,

up the stairs, and to the playroom. Pleasure and pain, reward and punishment – his words

from so long ago echo through my mind.

“I’ll show you how bad it can be, and you can make your own mind up.” He pauses by

the door. “Are you ready for this?”

I nod, my mind made up, and I’m vaguely lightheaded, faint as all the blood leaves my

face.He opens the door, and still grasping my arm, grabs what looks like a belt from the rack

beside the door, then leads me over to the red leather bench in the far corner of the room.

“Bend over the bench,” he murmurs softly.

Okay. I can do this. I bend over the smooth soft leather. He’s left my bathrobe on.

In a quiet part of my brain, I’m vaguely surprised that he hasn’t made me take it off. Holy

fuck this is going to hurt… I know.My subconscious has passed out, and my inner goddess

is endeavoring to look brave.

“We’re here because you said yes, Anastasia. And you ran from me. I am going to hit

you six times, and you will count with me.”