Fifty Shades of Grey(213)

"IHOP." I grin back at him. I don't believe it. Who would have thought... Christian Grey at IHOP.

It's 8:30 a.m. but quiet in the restaurant. It smells of sweet batter, fried food, and disinfec-tant. Hmm... not such an enticing aroma. Christian leads me to a booth.

"I would never have pictured you here," I say as we slide into a booth.

"My dad used to bring us to one of these whenever my mom went away at a medical conference. It was our secret." He smiles at me, gray eyes dancing, then picks up a menu, running a hand through his wayward hair as he stares down at it.

Oh, I want to run my hands through that hair. I pick up a menu and examine it. I realize I'm starving.

"I know what I want," he breathes, his voice low and husky.

I glance up at him, and he's staring at me in that way that tightens all the muscles in my belly and takes my breath away, his eyes dark and smoldering. Holy shit. I gaze at him, my blood singing in my veins answering his call.

"I want what you want," I whisper.

He inhales sharply.

"Here?" he asks suggestively, raising an eyebrow at me, smiling wickedly, his teeth trapping the tip of his tongue.

Oh my... sex in IHOP. His expression changes, growing darker.

"Don't bite your lip," he orders. "Not here, not now." His eyes harden momentarily, and for a moment, he looks so deliciously dangerous. "If I can't have you here, don't tempt me.""Hi, My name's Leandra, What can I get for you... er... folks... er... today, this mornin... ?" Her voice trails off, stumbling over her words as she gets an eye full of Mr.

Beautiful opposite me. She flushes scarlet, and a small ounce of sympathy for her bubbles unwelcome into my consciousness because he still does that to me. Her presence allows me to escape briefly from his sensual glare.

"Anastasia?" he prompts me, ignoring her, and I don't think anyone could squeeze as much carnality into my name as he does at that moment.

I swallow, praying that I don't go the same color as poor Leandra.

"I told you, I want what you want." I keep my voice soft, low, and he looks at me hun-grily. Jeez, my inner goddess swoons. Am I up to this game?

Leandra looks from me to him and back again. She's practically the same color as her shiny red hair.

"Shall I give you folks another minute to decide?"

"No. We know what we want." Christian's mouth twitches with a small, sexy smile.

"We'll have two portions of the original buttermilk pancakes with maple syrup and bacon on the side, two glasses of orange juice, one black coffee with skim milk, and one English breakfast tea, if you have it," says Christian, not taking his eyes off me.

"Thank you sir. Will that be all?" Leandra whispers, looking anywhere but at the two of us. We both turn to stare at her, and she flushes crimson again and scuttles away.

"You know it's really not fair." I glance down at the Formica tabletop, tracing a pattern in it with my index finger, trying to sound nonchalant.

"What's not fair?"

"How you disarm people. Women. Me."

"Do I disarm you?"

I snort.

"All the time."

"It's just looks, Anastasia," he says mildly.

"No, Christian, it's much more than that."

His brow creases.

"You disarm me totally, Miss Steele. Your innocence. It cuts through all the crap."

"Is that why you've changed your mind?"

"Changed my mind?"