“I’ll need an extra ticket because I have a date… Yes Andrea, that’s what I said, a date,

Miss Anastasia Steele will accompany me… That’s all.” He hangs up. “Good morning,

Miss Steele.”

“Mr. Grey,” I smile shyly.

He walks around his desk with his usual grace and stands in front of me. He smells so

good; clean and freshly laundered, so Christian. He gently strokes my cheek with the back

of his fingers.

“I didn’t want to wake you, you looked so peaceful. Did you sleep well?”

“I am very well-rested, thank you. I just came to say hi before I had a shower.”

I gaze up at him, drinking him in. He leans down and gently kisses me, and I can’t

help myself. I throw my arms around his neck and my fingers twist in his still damp hair.

Pushing my body flush against his, I kiss him back. I want him. My attack takes him by

surprise, but after a beat, he responds, a low groan in his throat. His hands slip into my

hair and down my back to cup my naked behind, his tongue exploring my mouth. He pulls

back, his eyes hooded.

“Well, sleep seems to agree with you,” he murmurs. “I suggest you go and have your

shower, or I shall lay you across my desk, now.”

“I choose the desk,” I whisper recklessly as desire sweeps like adrenaline through my

system, waking everything in its path.

He stares bewildered down at me for a millisecond.

“You’ve really got a taste for this, haven’t you, Miss Steele. You’re becoming insa-

tiable,” he murmurs.

“I’ve only got a taste for you,” I whisper.

His eyes widen and darken while his hands knead my naked backside.

“Damn right, only me,” he growls, and suddenly with one fluid movement, he clears all

the plans and papers off his desk so that they scatter on the floor, sweeps me up in his arms,

and lays me down across the short end of his desk so that my head is almost off the edge.

“You want it, you got it, baby,” he mutters, producing a foil packet from his pants

pocket while he unzips his pants. Oh Mr. Boy Scout.He rolls the condom over his erection

and gazes down at me. “I sure hope you’re ready,” he breathes, a salacious smile across his

face. And in a moment, he’s filling me, holding my wrists tightly by my side, and thrusting

into me deeply.

I groan… oh yes.

“Christ, Ana. You’re soready,” he whispers in veneration.

Wrapping my legs around his waist, I hold him the only way I can as he stays standing,

staring down at me, gray eyes glowing, passionate and possessive. He starts to move, re-

ally move. This is not making love, this is fucking – and I love it. I groan. It’s so raw, so

carnal, making me so wanton. I revel in his possession, his lust slaking mine. He moves

with ease, luxuriating in me, enjoying me, his lips slightly parted as his breathing increases.

He twists his hips from side to side, and the feeling is exquisite.

Oh my.I close my eyes, feeling the build up – that delicious, slow, step climbing build.

Pushing me higher, higher to the castle in the air. Oh yes… his stroke increasing fractional-

ly. I moan loudly. I am all sensation… all him, enjoying every thrust, every push that fills

me. And he picks up the pace, thrusting faster… harder… and my whole body is moving

to his rhythm, and I can feel my legs stiffening, and my insides quivering and quickening.

“Come on, baby, give it up for me,” he cajoles through gritted teeth – and the fervent

need in his voice – the strain – sends me over the edge.

I cry out a wordless, passionate plea as I touch the sun and burn, falling around him,

falling down, back to a breathless, bright summit on Earth. He slams into me and stops

abruptly as he reaches his climax, pulling at my wrists, and sinking gracefully and word-

lessly onto me.

Wow... that was unexpected.I slowly materialize back on Earth.

“What the hell are you doing to me?” he breathes as he nuzzles my neck. “You com-

pletely beguile me, Ana. You weave some powerful magic.”

He releases my wrists, and I run my fingers through his hair, coming down from my

high. I tighten my legs around him.

“I’m the one beguiled,” I whisper.

He looks up, gazing at me, his expression is disconcerted, alarmed even. Placing his

hands on either side of my face, he holds my head in place.

“You. Are. Mine,” he says, each word a staccato. “Do you understand?”

He’s so earnest, so impassioned – a zealot. The force of his plea is so unexpected and

disarming. I wonder why he’s feeling like this.

“Yes, yours,” I whisper, derailed by his fervor.

“Are you sure you have to go to Georgia?”

I nod slowly. And in that brief moment, I can see his expression change and the shut-

ters coming down. Abruptly he withdraws, making me wince.

“Are you sore?” he asks, leaning over me.

“A little,” I confess.

“I like you sore.” His eyes smolder. “Reminds you where I’ve been, and only me.”

He grabs my chin and kisses me roughly, then stands and holds his hand out to help me

up. I glance down at the foil packet beside me.

“Always prepared,” I murmur.

He looks at me confused as he redoes his fly. I hold up the empty packet.

“A man can hope, Anastasia, dream even, and sometimes his dreams come true.”

He sounds so odd, his eyes burning. I just don’t understand. My post coital glow is

fading fast. What is his problem?

“So, on your desk, that’s been a dream?” I ask dryly, trying humor to lighten the atmo-

sphere between us.

He smiles an enigmatic smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, and I know immediately this

is not the first time he’s had sex on his desk. The thought is unwelcome. I squirm uncom-

fortably as my post coital glow evaporates.

“I’d better go and have a shower.” I stand and make to move past him.

He frowns and runs a hand through his hair.

“I’ve got a couple more calls to make. I’ll join you for breakfast once you’re out of

the shower. I think Mrs. Jones has laundered your clothes from yesterday. They’re in the

closet.”

What?When the hell did she do that? Jeez, could she hear us? I flush.

“Thank you,” I mutter.

“You’re most welcome,” he replies automatically, but there’s an edge to his voice.

I’m not saying thank you for fucking me.Although, it was very...

“What?” he asks, and I realize I’m frowning.

“What’s wrong?” I ask softly.

“What do you mean?”

“Well… you’re being more weird than usual.”

“You find me weird?” He tries to stifle a smile.

I blush.

“Sometimes.”

He regards me for a moment, his eyes speculative.

“As ever, I’m surprised by you, Miss Steele.”

“Surprised how?”

“Let’s just say that was an unexpected treat.”

“We aim to please, Mr. Grey.” I cock my head to one side like he often does to me and

give his words back to him.

“And please me you do,” he says, but he looks uneasy. “I thought you were going to

have a shower.”

Oh, he’s dismissing me.

“Yes… um, I’ll see you in a moment.” I scurry out of his office completely dumb-

founded.

He seemed confused. Why?I have to say as physical experiences go, that was very

satisfying. But emotionally – well, I’m rattled by his reaction, and that was about as emo-

tionally enriching as cotton candy is nutritious.

Mrs. Jones is still in the kitchen.

“Would you like your tea now, Miss Steele?”

“I’ll have a shower first, thank you,” I mutter and take my blazing face quickly out of

the room.

In the shower, I try to figure out what’s up with Christian. He is the most complicated

person I know, and I cannot understand his ever-changing moods. He seemed fine when