Fifty Shades Darker(39)

I stand at my chest of drawers, staring at my mirror, trying to coax my hair into some semblance of style - really, it's just too long. I'm in jeans and a T-shirt, and Christian, freshly showered, is dressing behind me. I gaze at his body hungrily.

"How often do you work out?" I ask.

"Every weekday," he says, buttoning his fly.

"What do you do?"

"Run, weights, kickbox." He shrugs.

"Kickbox?"

"Yes, I have a personal trainer, an ex-Olympic contender who teaches me. His name is Claude. He's very good. You'd like him."

I turn to gaze at him as he starts to button up his white shirt.

"What do you mean I'd like him?"

"You'd like him as a trainer."

"Why would I need a personal trainer? I have you to keep me fit." I smirk at him.

He saunters over and wraps his arms around me, his darkening eyes meeting mine in the mirror.

"But I want you fit, baby, for what I have in mind. I'll need you to keep up."

I flush as memories of the playroom flood my mind. Yes... the Red Room of Pain is exhausting. Is he going to let me back in there? Do I want to go back in?

Of course you do! My inner goddess screams at me from her chaise longue.

I stare into his unfathomable, mesmerizing gray eyes.

"You know you want to," he mouths at me.

I flush, and the undesirable thought that Leila could probably keep up slithers invidious and unwelcome into my mind. I press my lips together and Christian frowns at me.

"What?" he asks, concerned.

"Nothing." I shake my head at him. "Okay, I'll meet Claude."

"You will?" Christian's face lights up in astounded disbelief. His expression makes me smile He looks like he's won the lottery, though Christian's probably never even bought a ticket - he has no need.

"Yes, jeez - if it makes you that happy," I scoff.

He tightens his arms around me and kisses my cheek. "You have no idea," he whispers.

"So - what would you like to do today?" He nuzzles me, sending delicious tingles through my body.

"I'd like to get my hair cut, and um... I need to bank a check and buy a car."

"Ah," he says knowingly and bites his lip. Taking one hand off me, he reaches into his jeans pocket and holds up the key to my little Audi.

"It's here," he says quietly, his expression uncertain.

"What do you mean, it's here?" Boy. I sound angry. Crap. I am angry. My subconscious glares at him. How dare he!

"Taylor brought it back yesterday."

I open my mouth then close it and repeat the process twice, but I have been rendered speechless. He's giving me back the car. Double crap. Why didn't I foresee this? Well, two can play at that game. I fish in the back pocket of my jeans and pull out the envelope with his check.

"Here, this is yours."

Christian looks at me quizzically, then recognizing the envelope, raises both his hands and steps away from me.

"Oh no. That's your money."

"No, it isn't. I'd like to buy the car from you."

His expression changes completely. Fury - yes, fury - sweeps across his face.

"No, Anastasia. Your money, your car," he snaps at me.

"No, Christian. My money, your car. I'll buy it from you."

"I gave you that car for your graduation present."

"If you'd given me a pen - that would be a suitable graduation present. You gave me an Audi."