Fifty Shades Darker(242)

Oh, that was exciting. Adrenaline is pounding through my veins, and my heart feels like it wants to exit my chest. But as the elevator descends, so do my spirits. Shit, what have I done?

I have a tiger by the tail. He's going to be mad when I get back. My subconscious is glaring at me over her half-moon glasses, a willow switch in her hand. Shit. I think about what little experience I have with men. I've never lived with a man before - well, except Ray - and for some reason he doesn't count. He's my dad... well, the man I consider my dad.And now I have Christian. He's never really lived with anyone, I think. I'll have to ask him - if he's still talking to me.

But I feel strongly that I should wear what I like. I remember his rules. Yes, this must be hard for him, but he sure as hell paid for this dress. He should have given Neimans a better brief. Nothing too short!

This skirt isn't that short, is it? I check in the large mirror in the lobby. Damn. Yes, it is quite short, but I've made a stand now. And no doubt I'll have to face the consequences. I wonder idly what he'll do, but first I need cash.

I stare at my receipt from the ATM: $51,689.16. That's fifty thousand dollars too much!

Anastasia, you're going to have to learn to be rich, too, if you say yes. And so it begins. I take my paltry fifty dollars and make my way to the store.

I head straight to the kitchen when I arrive back, and I can't help feeling a frisson of alarm.

Christian is still in his study. Jeez, that's most of the afternoon. I decide my best option is to face him and see how much damage I've done. I peek cautiously around his study door.

He's on the phone, staring out the window.

"And the Eurocopter specialist is due Monday afternoon?... Good. Just keep me informed. Tell them that I'll need their initial findings either Monday evening or Tuesday morning." He hangs up and swivels his chair round, but stills when he sees me, his expression impassive.

"Hi," I whisper. He says nothing, and my heart free-falls into my stomach. Gingerly I walk into his study and around his desk to where he's sitting. He still says nothing, his eyes never leaving mine. I stand in front of him, feeling fifty shades of foolish.

"I'm back. Are you mad at me?"

He sighs, reaches out for my hand, and pulls me into his lap, folding his arms around me. He buries his nose in my hair.

"Yes," he says.

"I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me." I curl up in his lap inhaling his heavenly Christian smell, feeling safe regardless of the fact that he's mad.

"Me neither. Wear what you like," he murmurs. He runs his hand up my bare leg to my thigh. "Besides, this dress has its advantages." He bends to kiss me, and as our lips touch, passion or lust or a deep-seated need to make amends lances through me and desire flares in my blood. I seize his head in my hands, fisting my fingers in his hair. He groans as his body responds, and he hungrily nips at my lower lip - my throat, my ear, his tongue invading my mouth, and before I'm even aware of it he's unzipping his pants, pulling me astride his lap, and sinking into me. I grasp the back of the chair, my feet just touching the ground...

and we start to move.

"I like your version of sorry," he breathes into my hair.

"And I like yours," I giggle, snuggling against his chest. "Have you finished?"

"Christ, Ana, you want more?"

"No! Your work."

"I'll be done in about half an hour. I heard your message on my voicemail."

"From yesterday."

"You sounded worried."