unwelcome into my head. Taylor starts the car and heads away from the circle of light in

the driveway to the darkness of the road. I gaze at Christian, and he’s staring at me.

“What?” he asks, his voice quiet.

I flounder momentarily. No – I’ll tell him. He’s always complaining that I don’t talk

to him.

“I think that you felt trapped into bringing me to meet your parents.” My voice is soft

and hesitant. “If Elliot hadn’t asked Kate, you’d never have asked me.” I can’t see his face

in the dark, but he tilts his head, gaping at me.

“Anastasia, I’m delighted that you’ve met my parents. Why are you so filled with self-

doubt? It never ceases to amaze me. You’re such a strong, self-contained young woman,

but you have such negative thoughts about yourself. If I hadn’t wanted you to meet them,

you wouldn’t be here. Is that how you were feeling the whole time you were there?”

Oh!He wanted me there – and it’s a revelation. He doesn’t seem uncomfortable an-

swering me as he would if he were hiding the truth. He seems genuinely pleased that I’m

here… a warm glow spreads slowly through my veins. He shakes his head and reaches for

my hand. I glance nervously at Taylor.

“Don’t worry about Taylor. Talk to me.”

I shrug.

“Yes. I thought that. And another thing, I only mentioned Georgia because Kate was

talking about Barbados – I haven’t made up my mind.”

“Do you want to go and see your mother?”

“Yes.”

He looks oddly at me, like he’s having some internal struggle.

“Can I come with you?” he asks eventually.

What!?

“Erm… I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“I was hoping for a break from all this… intensity to try and think things through.”

He stares at me.

“I’m too intense?”

I burst out laughing.

“That’s putting it mildly!”

In the light of the passing street lamps, I see his lips quirk up.

“Are you laughing at me, Miss Steele?”

“I wouldn’t dare, Mr. Grey,” I reply with mock seriousness.

“I think you dare, and I think you do laugh at me, frequently.”

“You are quite funny.”

“Funny?”

“Oh yes.”

“Funny peculiar or funny ha ha?”

“Oh… a lot of one and some of the other.”

“Which way round?”

“I’ll leave you to figure that out.”

“I’m not sure if I can figure anything out around you, Anastasia,” he says sardonically,

and then continues quietly, “What do you need to think about in Georgia?”

“Us,” I whisper.

He stares at me, impassive.

“You said you’d try,” he murmurs.

“I know.”

“Are you having second thoughts?”

“Possibly.”

He shifts as if uncomfortable.

“Why?”

Holy crap.How did this suddenly become such an intense and meaningful conversa-

tion? It’s been sprung on me, like an exam that I’m not prepared for. What do I say? Be-

cause I think I love you, and you just see me as a toy. Because I can’t touch you, because

I’m too frightened to show you any affection in case you flinch or tell me off or worse –

beat me? What can I say?

I stare momentarily out of the window. The car is heading back across the bridge. We

are both shrouded in darkness, masking our thoughts and feelings, but we don’t need the

night for that.

“Why, Anastasia?” Christian presses me for an answer.

I shrug, trapped. I don’t want to lose him. In spite of all his demands, his need to

control, his scary vices. I have never felt as alive as I do now. It’s a thrill to be sitting here

beside him. He’s so unpredictable, sexy, smart, and funny. But his moods… oh – and he

wants to hurt me. He says he’ll think about my reservations, but it still scares me. I close

my eyes. What can I say? Deep down I would just like more, more affection, more playful

Christian, more… love.

He squeezes my hand.

“Talk to me, Anastasia. I don’t want to lose you. This last week… ” He trails off.

We’re coming near to the end of the bridge, and the road is once more bathed in the

neon light of the street lamps so his face is intermittently in the light and the dark. And it’s

such a fitting metaphor. This man, whom I once thought of as a romantic hero – a brave

shining white knight, or the dark knight as he said. He’s not a hero, he’s a man with seri-

ous, deep emotional flaws, and he’s dragging me into the dark. Can I not guide him into

the light?

“I still want more,” I whisper.

“I know,” he says. “I’ll try.”

I blink up at him, and he relinquishes my hand and pulls at my chin, releasing my

trapped lip.

“For you, Anastasia, I will try.” He’s radiating sincerity.

And that’s my cue. I unbuckle my seatbelt, reach across, and clamber into his lap, tak-

ing him completely by surprise. Wrapping my arms around his head, I kiss him, long and

hard, and in a nanosecond, he’s responding.

“Stay with me, tonight,” he breathes. “If you go away, I won’t see you all week.

Please.”

“Yes,” I acquiesce. “And I’ll try too. I’ll sign your contract.” And it’s a spur of the

moment decision.

He gazes down at me.

“Sign after Georgia. Think about it. Think about it hard, baby.”

“I will.” And we sit in silence for a mile or two.

“You really should wear your seatbelt,” Christian whispers disapprovingly into my

hair, but he makes no move to shift me from his lap.

I nuzzle up against him, eyes closed, my nose at his throat, drinking in his sexy Chris-

tian-and-spiced-musky-body-wash fragrance, my head on his shoulder. I let my mind drift,

and I allow myself to fantasize that he loves me. Oh, and it’s so real, tangible almost, and

a small part of my nasty harpy self-conscious acts completely out of character and dares to

hope.I’m careful not to touch his chest but just snuggle in his arms as he holds me tightly.

All too soon, I’m torn from my impossible daydream.

“We’re home,” Christian murmurs, and it’s such a tantalizing sentence, full of so much

potential .

Home, with Christian.Except his apartment is an art gallery, not a home.

Taylor opens the door for us, and I thank him shyly, aware that he’s been within earshot

of our conversation, but his kind smile is reassuring and gives nothing away. Once out of

the car, Christian assesses me critically . Oh no… what have I done now?

“Why don’t you have a jacket?” he frowns as he shrugs out of his and drapes it over

my shoulders.

Relief washes through me.

“It’s in my new car,” I reply sleepily, yawning.

He smirks at me.

“Tired, Miss Steele?”

“Yes, Mr. Grey.” I feel bashful under his teasing scrutiny. Nevertheless I feel an ex-

planation is in order, “I’ve been prevailed upon in ways I never thought possible today.”

“Well, if you’re really unlucky, I may prevail upon you some more,” he promises as he

takes my hand and leads me into the building. Holy Shit… Again?!

I gaze up at him in the elevator. I have assumed he’d like me to sleep with him, and

then I remember that he doesn’t sleep with anyone, although he has with me a few times.

I frown, and abruptly his gaze darkens. He reaches up and grasps my chin, freeing my lip

from teeth.

“One day I will fuck you in this elevator, Anastasia, but right now you’re tired – so I

think we should stick to a bed.”

Bending down, he clamps his teeth around my lower lip and pulls gently. I melt against

him, and my breathing stops as my insides unfurl with longing. I reciprocate, fastening my

teeth over his top lip, teasing him, and he groans. When the elevator doors open, he grabs

my hand and tugs me into the foyer, through the double doors, and into the hallway.