system, swirling round him, cocooning him, filling the room with a sweet, soulful song.

For a moment, he looks serene. He turns and glances at us when we enter and smiles

warmly at me.

“Are you done?” he asks as if he’s genuinely interested. He points the remote at a sleek

white box beneath the fireplace that houses his iPod, and the exquisite melody fades but

continues in the background. Standing, he strolls towards us.

“Yes, Mr. Grey. Look after her; she’s a beautiful, bright young woman.”

Christian is taken aback – as am I. What an inappropriate thing for a doctor to say. Is

she giving him some kind of not so subtle warning? Christian recovers himself.

“I fully intend to,” he mutters, bemused.

Gazing at him, I shrug, embarrassed.

“I’ll send you my bill,” she says crisply as she shakes his hand.

“Good day, and good luck to you, Ana.” She smiles, her eyes crinkling as she does

when we shake hands.

Taylor appears from nowhere to escort her through the double doors and out to the

elevator. How does he do that? Where does he lurk?

“How was that?” Christian asks.

“Fine, thank you. She said that I had to abstain from all sexual activity for the next

four weeks.”

Christian’s mouth drops open in shock, and I cannot keep a straight face any longer and

grin at him like an idiot.

“Gotcha!”

He narrows his eyes, and I immediately stop laughing. In fact, he looks rather forbid-

ding. Oh shit.My subconscious quails in the corner as all the blood drains from my face,

and I imagine him putting me across his knee again.

“Gotcha!” he says and smirks. He grabs me around my waist and pulls me up against

him. “You are incorrigible, Miss Steele,” he murmurs, staring down into my eyes as he

weaves his fingers into my hair, holding me firmly in place. He kisses me, hard, and I cling

on to his muscular arms for support.

“As much as I’d like to take you here, now, you need to eat and so do I. I don’t want

you passing out on me later,” he murmurs against my lips.

“Is that all you want me for – my body?” I whisper.

“That and your smart mouth,” he breathes.

He kisses me again passionately, and then abruptly releases me, taking my hand and

leading me to the kitchen. I am reeling. One minute we’re joking and the next… I fan

my heated face. He’s just sex on legs, and now I have to recover my equilibrium and eat

something. The aria is still playing in the background.

“What’s the music?”

“Villa Lobos, an aria from Bachianas Brasileiras. Good, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” I murmur in total agreement.

The breakfast bar is laid for two; Christian takes a salad bowl from the fridge.

“Chicken caesar salad okay with you?”

Oh thank heavens, nothing too heavy.

“Yes, fine, thank you.”

I watch as he moves gracefully through his kitchen. He’s so at ease with his body on

one level, but then he doesn’t like to be touched… so maybe deep down he isn’t. No man

is an island, I muse – except perhaps Christian Grey.

“What are you thinking?” he asks, pulling me from my reverie. I flush.

“I was just watching the way you move.”

He raises an eyebrow, amused.

“And?” he says dryly.

I flush some more.

“You’re very graceful.”

“Why thank you, Miss Steele,” he murmurs. He sits down beside me, holding a bottle

of wine. “Chablis?”

“Please.”

“Help yourself to salad,” he says, his voice soft.

“Tell me - what method did you opt for?”

I am momentarily thrown by his question, when I realize he’s talking about Dr. Greene’s

visit.“Mini pill.”

He frowns.

“And will you remember to take it regularly, at the right time, every day?”

Jeez… of course I will.How does he know? I blush at the thought, probably from one

or more of the fifteen.

“I’m sure you’ll remind me,” I murmur dryly.

He glances at me with amused condescension.

“I’ll put an alarm on my calendar.” He smirks. “Eat.”

The chicken caesar is delicious. To my surprise, I’m famished, and for the first time

since I’ve been with him, I finish my meal before he does. The wine is crisp, clean, and

fruity.

“Eager as ever, Miss Steele?” he smiles down at my empty plate.

I look at him from beneath my lashes.

“Yes,” I whisper.

His breath hitches. And as he stares down at me, I feel the atmosphere between us

slowly shift, evolve… charge. His look goes from dark to smoldering, taking me with him.

He stands, closing the distance between us, and tugs me off my bar stool into his arms.

“Do you want to do this?” he breathes, looking down at me intently.

“I haven’t signed anything.”

“I know – but I’m breaking all the rules these days.”

“Are you going to hit me?”

“Yes, but it won’t be to hurt you. I don’t want to punish you right now. If you’d caught

me yesterday evening, well, that would have been a different story.”

Holy cow. He wantsto hurt me… how do I deal with this? I can’t hide the horror on

my face.

“Don’t let anyone try and convince you otherwise, Anastasia. One of the reasons

people like me do this is because we either like to give or receive pain. It’s very simple.

You don’t, so I spent a great deal of time yesterday thinking about that.”

He pulls me against him, and his erection presses into my belly. I should run, but I

can’t. I’m drawn to him on some deep, elemental level, that I can’t begin to understand.

“Did you reach any conclusions?” I whisper.

“No, and right now, I just want to tie you up and fuck you senseless. Are you ready

for that?”

“Yes,” I breathe as everything in my body tightens at once… wow.

“Good. Come.” He takes my hand and, leaving all the dirty dishes on the breakfast bar,

and we head upstairs.

My heart starts pounding. This is it. I’m really going to do this. My inner goddess

is spinning like a world-class ballerina, pirouette after pirouette. He opens the door to his

playroom, standing back for me to walk through, and I am once more in the Red Room of

Pain.It’s the same, the smell of leather, citrus, polish and dark wood, all very sensual. My

blood is running heated and scared through my system – adrenaline mixed with lust and

longing. It’s a heady, potent cocktail. Christian’s stance has changed completely, subtly al-

tered, harder and meaner. He gazes down at me and his eyes are heated, lustful… hypnotic.

“When you’re in here, you are completely mine,” he breathes, each word slow and

measured. “To do with as I see fit. Do you understand?”

His gaze is so intense. I nod, my mouth dry, my heart thumping for a way out of my

chest.

“Take your shoes off,” he orders softly.

I swallow, and rather clumsily, I take them off. He bends and picks them up and de-

posits them beside the door.

“Good. Don’t hesitate when I ask you to do something. Now I’m going to peel you

out of this dress. Something I’ve wanted to do for a few days if I recall. I want you to be

comfortable with your body, Anastasia. You have a beautiful body, and I like to look at it.

It is a joy to behold. In fact, I could gaze at you all day, and I want you unembarrassed and

unashamed of your nakedness. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?” He leans over me, glaring.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Do you mean that?” he snaps.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good. Lift your arms up over your head.”

I do as instructed, and he reaches down and grabs the hem. Slowly, he pulls my dress

up over my thighs, my hips, my belly, my breasts, my shoulders, and over my head. He

stands back to examine me and absentmindedly folds my dress, not taking his eyes off me.