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  “I take it that when you said you were okay, you weren’t.”

  I flush. “I thought I was fine.”

  “Anastasia, you can’t tell me what you think I want to hear. That’s not very honest,” he admonishes me. “How can I trust anything you’ve said to me?”

  I peek up at him, and he’s frowning, a bleak look in his eye. He runs both hands through his hair.

  “How did you feel while I was hitting you and after?”

  “I didn’t like it. I’d rather you didn’t do it again.”

  “You weren’t meant to like it.”

  “Why do you like it?” I stare up at him.

  My question surprises him.

  “You really want to know?”

  “Oh, trust me, I’m fascinated.” And I can’t quite keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

  He narrows his eyes again.

  “Careful,” he warns.

  I blanch. “Are you going to hit me again?”

  “No, not tonight.”

  Phew … my subconscious and I both breathe a silent sigh of relief.

  “So,” I prompt.

  “I like the control it gives me, Anastasia. I want you to behave in a particular way, and if you don’t, I shall punish you, and you will learn to behave the way I desire. I enjoy punishing you. I’ve wanted to spank you since you asked me if I was gay.”

  I flush at the memory. Jeez, I wanted to spank myself after that question. So Katherine Kavanagh is responsible for all this, and if she’d gone to that interview and asked her gay question, she’d be sitting here with the sore ass. I don’t like that thought. How confusing is this?

  “So you don’t like the way I am.”

  He stares at me, bewildered again. “I think you’re lovely the way you are.”

  “So why are you trying to change me?”

  “I don’t want to change you. I’d like you to be courteous and to follow the set of rules I’ve given you and not defy me. Simple,” he says.

  “But you want to punish me?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “That’s what I don’t understand.”

  He sighs and runs his hands through his hair again.

  “It’s the way I’m made, Anastasia. I need to control you. I need you to behave in a certain way, and if you don’t—I love to watch your beautiful alabaster skin pink and warm up under my hands. It turns me on.”

  Holy shit. Now we’re getting somewhere.

  “So it’s not the pain you’re putting me through?”

  He swallows.

  “A bit, to see if you can take it, but that’s not the whole reason. It’s the fact that you are mine to do with as I see fit—ultimate control over someone else. And it turns me on. Big time, Anastasia. Look, I’m not explaining myself very well … I’ve never had to before. I’ve not really thought about this in any great depth. I’ve always been with like-minded people.” He shrugs apologetically. “And you still haven’t answered my question—how did you feel afterward?”

  “Confused.”

  “You were sexually aroused by it, Anastasia.” He closes his eyes briefly, and when he reopens them and gazes at me, they are blazing.

  His expression pulls at that dark part of me, buried in the depths of my belly—my libido, woken and tamed by him but, even now, insatiable.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” he murmurs.

  I frown. Jeez, what have I done now?

  “I don’t have any condoms, Anastasia, and you know, you’re upset. Contrary to what your roommate believes, I’m not a priapic monster. So, you felt confused?”

  I squirm under his intense gaze.

  “You have no problem being honest with me in print. Your e-mails always tell me exactly how you feel. Why can’t you do that in conversation? Do I intimidate you that much?”

  I pick at an imaginary spot on my mother’s blue-and-cream quilt.

  “You beguile me, Christian. Completely overwhelm me. I feel like Icarus flying too close to the sun,” I whisper.

  He gasps. “Well, I think you’ve got that the wrong way around,” he whispers.

  “What?”

  “Oh, Anastasia, you’ve bewitched me. Isn’t it obvious?”

  No, not to me. Bewitched … my inner goddess is staring openmouthed. Even she doesn’t believe this.

  “You’ve still not answered my question. Write me an e-mail, please. But right now, I’d really like to sleep. Can I stay?”

  “Do you want to stay?” I can’t hide the hope in my voice.

  “You wanted me here.”

  “You haven’t answered my question.”

  “I’ll write you an e-mail,” he mutters petulantly.

  Standing, he empties his jeans pockets of BlackBerry, keys, wallet, and money. Holy cow, men carry a lot of crap in their pockets. He strips off his watch, shoes, socks, and jeans and places his jacket over my chair. He walks around to the other side of the bed and slides in.

  “Lie down,” he orders.

  I slip slowly under the covers, wincing, staring at him. Jeez … he’s staying. I think I’m numb with elated shock. He leans up on one elbow, staring down at me.

  “If you are going to cry, cry in front of me. I need to know.”

  “Do you want me to cry?”

  “Not particularly. I just want to know how you’re feeling. I don’t want you slipping through my fingers. Switch the light off. It’s late, and we both have to work tomorrow.”

  So here … and still so bossy, but I can’t complain; he’s in my bed. I don’t quite understand why … maybe I should weep more often in front of him. I switch off the bedside light.

  “Lie on your side, facing away from me,” he murmurs in the darkness.

  I roll my eyes in the full knowledge that he cannot see me, but I do as I’m told. Gingerly, he moves over and puts his arms around me and pulls me to his chest.

  “Sleep, baby,” he whispers, and I feel his nose in my hair as he inhales deeply.

  Holy cow. Christian Grey is sleeping with me, and in the comfort and solace of his arms, I drift into a peaceful sleep.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  * * *

  The candle flame is too hot. It flickers and dances in the over-warm breeze, a breeze that brings no respite from the heat. Soft gossamer wings flutter to and fro in the dark, sprinkling dusty scales in the circle of light. I’m struggling to resist, but I’m drawn. And then it’s so bright, and I am flying too close to the sun, dazzled by the light, fried and melting from the heat, weary in my endeavors to stay airborne. I am so warm. The heat … it’s stifling, overpowering. It wakes me.

  I open my eyes, and I’m draped in Christian Grey. He’s wrapped around me like a victory flag. He’s fast asleep with his head on my chest, his arm over me, holding me close, one of his legs thrown over and hooked around both of mine. He’s suffocating me with his body heat, and he’s heavy. I take a moment to absorb that he’s still in my bed and fast asleep, and it’s light outside—morning. He has spent the whole night with me.

  My right arm is stretched, no doubt in search of a cool spot, and as I process the fact that he’s still with me, the thought occurs that I can touch him. He’s asleep. Tentatively, I lift my hand and run the tips of my fingers down his back. Deep in his throat, I hear a faint, distressed groan, and he stirs. He nuzzles my chest, inhaling deeply as he wakes. Sleepy, blinking gray eyes meet mine beneath his tousled mop of hair.

  “Good morning,” he mumbles, and frowns. “Jesus, even in my sleep I’m drawn to you.” He moves slowly, unpeeling his limbs from me as he gets his bearings. I become aware of his erection against my hip. He notices my wide-eyed reaction, and he smiles a slow, sexy smile.

  “Hmm … this has possibilities, but I think we should wait until Sunday.” He leans down and nuzzles my ear with his nose.

  I flush, but then I feel seven shades of scarlet from his heat.

  “You’re very hot,” I murmur.

  “You’re not so bad yourself,” he murmurs, a
nd presses himself against me, suggestively.

  I flush some more. That’s not what I meant. He props himself up on his elbow, gazing down at me, amused. He bends and, to my surprise, plants a gentle kiss on my lips.

  “Sleep well?” he asks.

  I nod, staring up at him, and I realize that I’ve slept very well except maybe for the last half hour when I was too hot.

  “So did I.” He frowns. “Yes, really well.” He raises his eyebrows in confused surprise. “What’s the time?”

  I glance at my alarm.

  “It’s seven thirty.”

  “Seven thirty … shit.” He scrambles out of bed and drags on his jeans.

  It is my turn to look amused as I sit up. Christian Grey is late and flustered. This is something I have never seen before. I belatedly realize that my behind is no longer sore.

  “You are such a bad influence on me. I have a meeting. I have to go—I have to be in Portland at eight. Are you smirking at me?”

  “Yes.”

  He grins. “I’m late. I don’t do late. Another first, Miss Steele.” He pulls on his jacket and then bends down and grasps my head, his hands on either side.

  “Sunday,” he says, and the word is pregnant with an unspoken promise. Everything deep in my body uncurls and then clenches in delicious anticipation. The feeling is exquisite.

  Holy hell, if my mind could just keep up with my body. He leans forward and kisses me quickly. He grabs his stuff from my side table and his shoes—which he doesn’t put on.

  “Taylor will come and sort your Beetle. I was serious. Don’t drive it. I’ll see you at my place on Sunday. I’ll e-mail you a time.” And like a whirlwind, he’s gone.

  Christian Grey spent the night with me, and I feel rested. And there was no sex, only cuddling. He told me he never slept with anyone—but he’s slept three times with me. I grin and slowly climb out of my bed. I feel more optimistic than I have for the last day or so. I head for the kitchen, needing a cup of tea.

  After breakfast, I shower and dress quickly for my last day at Clayton’s. It is the end of an era—good-bye to Mr. and Mrs. Clayton, WSU, Vancouver, the apartment, my Beetle. I glance at the mean machine—it’s only 7:52. I have time.

  * * *

  From: Anastasia Steele

  Subject: Assault and Battery: The After-Effects

  Date: May 27 2011 08:05

  To: Christian Grey

  Dear Mr. Grey,

  You wanted to know why I felt confused after you—which euphemism should we apply—spanked, punished, beat, assaulted me. Well, during the whole alarming process, I felt demeaned, debased, and abused. And much to my mortification, you’re right, I was aroused, and that was unexpected. As you are well aware, all things sexual are new to me—I only wish I was more experienced and therefore more prepared. I was shocked to feel aroused.

  What really worried me was how I felt afterward. And that’s more difficult to articulate. I was happy that you were happy. I felt relieved that it wasn’t as painful as I thought it would be. And when I was lying in your arms, I felt … sated. But I feel very uncomfortable, guilty even, feeling that way. It doesn’t sit well with me, and I’m confused as a result. Does that answer your question?

  I hope the world of Mergers and Acquisitions is as stimulating as ever … and that you weren’t too late.

  Thank you for staying with me.

  Ana

  * * *

  From: Christian Grey

  Subject: Free Your Mind

  Date: May 27 2011 08:24

  To: Anastasia Steele

  Interesting … if slightly overstated title heading, Miss Steele.

  To answer your points:

  • I’ll go with spanking—as that’s what it was.

  • So you felt demeaned, debased, abused, and assaulted—how very Tess Durbeyfield of you. I believe it was you who decided on the debasement, if I remember correctly. Do you really feel like this or do you think you ought to feel like this? Two very different things. If that is how you feel, do you think you could just try to embrace these feelings, deal with them, for me? That’s what a submissive would do.

  • I am grateful for your inexperience. I value it, and I’m only beginning to understand what it means. Simply put … it means that you are mine in every way.

  • Yes, you were aroused, which in turn was very arousing, there’s nothing wrong with that.

  • Happy does not even begin to cover how I felt. Ecstatic joy comes close.

  • Punishment spanking hurts far more than sensual spanking—so that’s about as hard as it gets, unless, of course, you commit some major transgression, in which case I’ll use some implement to punish you with. My hand was very sore. But I like that.

  • I felt sated, too—more so than you could ever know.

  • Don’t waste your energy on guilt, feelings of wrongdoing, etc. We are consenting adults and what we do behind closed doors is between ourselves. You need to free your mind and listen to your body.

  • The world of M&A is not nearly as stimulating as you are, Miss Steele.

  Christian Grey

  CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

  Holy crap … mine in every way. My breath hitches.

  * * *

  From: Anastasia Steele

  Subject: Consenting Adults!

  Date: May 27 2011 08:26

  To: Christian Grey

  Aren’t you in a meeting?

  I’m very glad your hand was sore.

  And if I listened to my body, I’d be in Alaska by now.

  Ana

  P.S.: I will think about embracing these feelings.

  * * *

  From: Christian Grey

  Subject: You Didn’t Call the Cops

  Date: May 27 2011 08:35

  To: Anastasia Steele

  Miss Steele,

  I am in a meeting discussing the futures market, if you’re really interested.

  For the record, you stood beside me knowing what I was going to do.

  You didn’t at any time ask me to stop—you didn’t use either safeword.

  You are an adult—you have choices.

  Quite frankly, I’m looking forward to the next time my palm is ringing with pain.

  You’re obviously not listening to the right part of your body.

  Alaska is very cold and no place to run. I would find you.

  I can track your cell phone—remember?

  Go to work.

  Christian Grey

  CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

  I scowl at the screen. He’s right, of course. It’s my choice. Hmm. Is he serious about coming to find me? Should I decide to escape for a while? My mind flits briefly to my mother’s offer. I hit “reply.”

  * * *

  From: Anastasia Steele

  Subject: Stalker

  Date: May 27 2011 08:36

  To: Christian Grey

  Have you sought therapy for your stalker tendencies?

  Ana

  * * *

  From: Christian Grey

  Subject: Stalker? Me?

  Date: May 27 2011 08:38

  To: Anastasia Steele

  I pay the eminent Dr. Flynn a small fortune with regard to my stalker and other tendencies.

  Go to work.

  Christian Grey

  CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

  * * *

  From: Anastasia Steele

  Subject: Expensive Charlatans

  Date: May 27 2011 08:40

  To: Christian Grey

  May I humbly suggest you seek a second opinion? I am not sure that Dr. Flynn is very effective.

  Miss Steele

  * * *

  From: Christian Grey

  Subject: Second Opinions

  Date: May 27 2011 08:43

  To: Anastasia Steele

  Not that it’s any of your business, humble or otherwise, but Dr. Flynn is the second opinion.

  You will have to speed, in your new ca
r, putting yourself at unnecessary risk—I think that’s against the rules.

  GO TO WORK.

  Christian Grey

  CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

  * * *

  From: Anastasia Steele

  Subject: SHOUTY CAPITALS

  Date: May 27 2011 08:47

  To: Christian Grey

  As the object of your stalker tendencies, I think it is my business, actually.

  I haven’t signed yet. So rules, schmules. And I don’t start until 9:30.

  Miss Steele

  * * *

  From: Christian Grey

  Subject: Descriptive Linguistics

  Date: May 27 2011 08:49

  To: Anastasia Steele