Picking up a spear of asparagus, I gaze at him and bite my lip. Then very slowly put the tip

of my cold asparagus in my mouth and suck it.

Christian’s eyes widen infinitesimally, but I notice.

“Anastasia. What are you doing?”

I bite off the tip.

“Eating my asparagus.”

Christian shifts in his seat.

“I think you’re toying with me, Miss Steele.”

I feign innocence.

“I’m just finishing my food, Mr. Grey.”

The waiter chooses this moment to knock and, unbidden, enter. He glances briefly at

Christian, who frowns at him but then nods, so the waiter clears our plates. The waiter’s

arrival has broken the spell. And I grasp this precious moment of clarity. I have to go. Our

meeting will only end one way if I stay, and I need some boundaries after such an intense

conversation. As much as my body craves his touch, my mind is rebelling. I need some

distance to think about all he’s said. I still haven’t made a decision, and his sexual allure

and prowess doesn’t make it any easier.

“Would you like some dessert?” Christian asks, ever the gentleman, but his eyes still

blaze.

“No, thank you. I think I should go.” I stare down at my hands.

“Go?” He can’t hide his surprise.

The waiter leaves hastily.

“Yes.” It’s the right decision. If I stay here, in this room with him, he will fuck me. I

stand, purposefully. “We both have the graduation ceremony tomorrow.”

Christian stands automatically, revealing years of ingrained civility.

“I don’t want you to go.”

“Please… I have to.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ve given me so much to consider… and I need some distance.”

“I could make you stay,” he threatens.

“Yes, you could easily, but I don’t want you to.”

He runs his hand through his hair, regarding me carefully.

“You know, when you fell into my office to interview me, you were all yes sir, no sir.

I thought you were a natural born submissive. But quite frankly, Anastasia, I’m not sure

you have a submissive bone in your delectable body.” He moves slowly toward me as his

speaks, his voice tense.

“You may be right,” I breathe.

“I want the chance to explore the possibility that you do,” he murmurs, staring down at

me. He reaches up and caresses my face, his thumb tracing my lower lip. “I don’t know

any other way, Anastasia. This is who I am.”

“I know.”

He leans down to kiss me, but pauses before his lips touch mine, his eyes searching

mine, wanting, asking permission. I raise my lips to his, and he kisses me and because I

don’t know if I’ll ever kiss him again, I let go – my hands moving of their own accord and

twisting into his hair, pulling him to me, my mouth opening, my tongue stroking his. His

hand grasps the nape of my neck as he deepens the kiss, responding to my ardor. His other

hand slides down my back and flattens at the base of my spine as he pushes me against his

body.“I can’t persuade you to stay?” he breathes between kisses.

“No.”

“Spend the night with me.”

“And not touch you? No.”

He groans.

“You impossible girl.” He pulls back, gazing down at me. “Why do I think you’re

telling me goodbye?”

“Because I’m leaving now.”

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”

“Christian, I have to think about this. I don’t know if I can have the kind of relation-

ship you want.”

He closes his eyes and presses his forehead against mine, giving us both the opportu-

nity to slow our breathing. After a moment, he kisses my forehead, inhales deeply, his nose

in my hair, and then he releases me, stepping back.

“As you wish, Miss Steele,” he says, his face impassive. “I’ll escort you to the lobby.”

He holds out his hand. Leaning down, I grab my purse and place my hand in his. Holy

crap, this could be it.I follow him meekly down the grand stairs and into the lobby, my

scalp prickling, my blood pumping. This could be the last goodbye if I decide to say no.

My heart contracts painfully in my chest. What a turnaround. What a difference a moment

of clarity can make to a girl.

“Do you have your valet ticket?”

I fish into my clutch purse and hand him the ticket, which he gives to the doorman. I

peek up at him as we stand waiting.

“Thank you for dinner,” I murmur.

“It’s a pleasure as always, Miss Steele,” he says politely, though he looks deep in

thought, completely distracted.

As I peer up at him, I commit his beautiful profile to memory. The idea that I might not

see him again haunts me, unwelcome and too painful to contemplate. He turns suddenly,

staring down at me, his expression intense.

“You’re moving this weekend to Seattle. If you make the right decision, can I see you

on Sunday?” He sounds hesitant.

“We’ll see. Maybe,” I breathe. Momentarily, he looks relieved, and then he frowns.

“It’s cooler now, don’t you have a jacket?”

“No.”

He shakes his head in irritation and takes off his jacket.

“Here. I don’t want you catching cold.”

I blink up at him as he holds it open, and as I hold my arms out behind me, I’m re-

minded of the time in his office when he slipped my coat onto my shoulders – the first time

I met him – and the effect he had on me then. Nothing’s changed, in fact, it’s more intense.

His jacket is warm, far too big, and it smells of him. Oh my…delicious.

My car pulls up outside. Christian’s mouth drops open.

“That’s what you drive?” He’s appalled. Taking my hand, he leads me outside. The

valet jumps out and hands me my keys, and Christian coolly palms him some money.

“Is this roadworthy?” He’s glaring at me now.

“Yes.”

“Will it make it to Seattle?”

“Yes. She will.”

“Safely?”

“Yes,” I snap, exasperated. “Okay she’s old. But she’s mine, and she’s roadworthy.

My stepdad bought it for me.”

“Oh, Anastasia, I think we can do better than this.”

“What do you mean?” Realization dawns. “You are notbuying me a car.”

He glowers at me, his jaw tense.

“We’ll see,” he says tightly.

He grimaces as he opens the driver’s door and helps me in. I take my shoes off and roll

down the window. He’s gazing at me, his expression unfathomable, eyes dark.

“Drive safely,” he says quietly.

“Goodbye, Christian.” My voice is hoarse from unbidden, unshed tears – jeez I’m not

going to cry.I give him a small smile.

As I drive away, my chest constricts, my tears start to fall, and I choke back a sob.

Soon tears are streaming down my face, and I really don’t understand why I’m crying. I

was holding my own. He explained everything. He was clear. He wants me, but the truth

is, I need more. I need him to want me like I want and need him, and deep down I know

that’s not possible. I am just overwhelmed.

I don’t even know how to categorize him. If I do this thing… will he be my boyfriend?

Will I be able to introduce him to my friends? Go out to bars, the cinema, bowling even,

with him? The truth is, I don’t think I will. He won’t let me touch him and he won’t let me

sleep with him. I know I’ve not had these things in my past, but I want them in my future.

And that’s not the future he envisages.

What if I do say yes, and in three months’ time he says no, he’s had enough of trying

to mold me into something I’m not. How will I feel? I’ll have emotionally invested three

months, doing things that I’m not sure I want to do. And if he then says no, agreement over,

how could I cope with that level of rejection? Perhaps it’s best to back away now with what