Fifty Shades of Grey(157)

"Where did you learn to dance?" I ask tentatively. He turns to gaze at me, his eyes unreadable beneath the intermittent light of the passing street lamps.

"Do you really want to know?" he replies softly.

My heart sinks, and now I don't because I can guess.

"Yes," I murmur, reluctantly.

"Mrs. Robinson was fond of dancing."

Oh, my worst suspicions confirmed. She has taught him well, and the thought depresses me - there's nothing I can teach him. I have no special skills.

"She must have been a good teacher."

"She was," he says softly.

My scalp prickles. Did she have the best of himBefore he became so closedOr did she bring him out of himselfHe has such a fun, playful side. I smile involuntarily as I recall being in his arms as he spun me around his living room, so unexpected, and he has my panties, somewhere.

And then there's the Red Room of Pain. I rub my wrists reflexively - thin strips of plastic will do that to a girl. She taught him all that too or ruined him, depending on one's point of view. Or perhaps he would have found his way there anyway in spite of Mrs. R.

I realize, in that moment, that I hate her. I hope that I never meet her because I will not be responsible for my actions if I do. I can't remember ever feeling this passionately about anyone, especially someone I've never met. Gazing unseeing out of the window, I nurse my irrational anger and jealousy.

My mind drifts back to the afternoon. Given what I understand of his preferences, I think he's been easy on me. Would I do it again I can't even pretend to put up an argument against that. Of course I would, if he asked me - as long as he didn't hurt me and if it's the only way to be with him.

That's the bottom line. I want to be with him. My inner goddess sighs with relief. I reach the conclusion that she rarely uses her brain to think but another vital part of her anatomy, and at the moment, it's a rather exposed part.

"Don't," he murmurs.

I frown and turn to look at him.

"Don't what?" I haven't touched him.

"Over-think things, Anastasia." Reaching out, he grasps my hand, draws it up to his lips, and kisses my knuckles gently. "I had a wonderful afternoon. Thank you."

And he's back with me again. I blink up at him and smile shyly. He's so confusing. I ask a question that's been bugging me.

"Why did you use a cable tie?"

He grins at me.

"It's quick, it's easy, and it's something different for you to feel and experience. I know they're quite brutal, and I do like that in a restraining device." He smiles at me mildly.

"Very effective at keeping you in your place."

I flush and glance nervously at Taylor, who remains impassive, eyes on road. What am I supposed to say to that Christian shrugs innocently.

"All part of my world, Anastasia." He squeezes my hand and lets go, staring out of the window again.

His world indeed, and I want to belong in it, but on his termsI just don't know. He hasn't mentioned that damned contract. My inner musings do nothing to cheer me. I stare out of the window and the landscape has changed. We're crossing one of the bridges, surrounded by inky darkness. The somber night reflects my introspective mood, closing in, suffocating.

I glance briefly at Christian, and he's staring at me.

"Penny for your thoughts?" he asks.

I sigh and frown.

"That bad, huh?"

"I wish I knew what you were thinking."

He smirks at me.