Fifty Shades of Grey(223)

"You intoxicate me, Miss Steele, and you calm me. Such a heady combination." He kisses my hair. Grabbing my hand, he tugs me into the shower.

"Ow," I squeal. The water is practically scalding. Christian grins down at me as the water cascades over him.

"It's only a little hot water."

And actually he's right. It feels heavenly, washing off the sticky Georgia morning and the stickiness from our lovemaking.

"Turn round," he orders, and I comply, turning to face the wall. "I want to wash you,"

he murmurs and reaches for the body wash. He squirts a little into his hand.

"I have something else to tell you," I murmur as his hands start on my shoulders.

"Oh, yes?" he asks mildly.

I steel myself with a deep breath.

"My friend Jose's photography show is opening Thursday in Portland."

He stills, his hands hovering over my breasts. I have emphasized the word 'friend.'

"Yes, what about it?" he asks sternly.

"I said I would go. Do you want to come with me?"

After what feels like a monumental amount of time, he slowly starts washing me again.

"What time?"

"The opening is at 7:30 p.m."

He kisses my ear.

"Okay."

Inside my subconscious relaxes and then collapses, slumped into an old battered arm-chair."Were you nervous about asking me?"

"Yes. How can you tell?"

"Anastasia, your whole body's just relaxed," he says dryly.

"Well, you just seem to be um... on the jealous side."

"Yes, I am," he says darkly. "And you'd do well to remember that. But thank you for asking. We'll take Charlie Tango."

Oh, the helicopter of course, silly me. More flying... cool! I grin.

"Can I wash you?" I ask.

"I don't think so," he murmurs, and he kisses me gently on my neck to take the sting out of his refusal. I pout at the wall as he caresses my back with soap.

"Will you ever let me touch you?" I ask boldly.

He stills again, his hand on my behind.

"Put your hands on the wall Anastasia. I'm going to take you again," he murmurs in my ear as he grabs my hips, and I know that the discussion is over.

Later we are seated at the breakfast bar, dressed in bathrobes, having consumed Mrs.

Jones's rather excellent pasta alle vongole.

"More wine?" Christian asks, gray eyes glowing.

"A small glass, please." The Sancerre is crisp and delicious. Christian pours one for me and one for himself.

"How's the um... situation that bought you to Seattle?" I ask tentatively.

He frowns.

"Out of hand," he murmurs bitterly. "But nothing for you to worry about, Anastasia. I have plans for you this evening."

"Oh?"

"Yes. I want you ready and waiting in my playroom in fifteen minutes." He stands and gazes down at me.

"You can get ready in your room. Incidentally, the walk-in closet is now full of clothes for you. I don't want any arguments about them." He narrows his eyes, daring me to say something. When I don't, he stalks off to his study.

Me! Argue With you, Fifty ShadesIt's more than my backside's worth. I sit on the bar stool, momentarily stupefied, trying to assimilate this morsel of information. He's bought me clothes. I roll my eyes in an exaggerated fashion knowing full well he can't see me. Car, phone, computer... clothes, it'll be a damn condo next, and then I really will be his mistress.