Chapter Eight
Christian is running his hands through his hair and pacing up and down his study. Two hands—that’s double exasperation. His usual concrete control seems to have slipped a notch. “I don’t understand why you didn’t tell me.”
“The subject never came up. I’m not in the habit of revealing my sexual status to everyone I meet. I mean, we hardly know each other.” I’m staring at my hands. Why am I feeling guilty? Why is he so mad? I peek up at him.
“Well, you know a lot more about me now,” he snaps, his mouth presses into a hard line. “I knew you were inexperienced, but a virgin!” He says it like it’s a really dirty word. “Hell, Ana, I just showed you…” He groans. “May God forgive me. Have you ever been kissed, apart from by me?”
“Of course I have.” I try my best to look affronted. Okay…maybe twice.
“And a nice young man hasn’t swept you off your feet? I just don’t understand. You’re twenty-one, nearly twenty-two. You’re beautiful.” He runs his hand through his hair again.
Beautiful. I flush with pleasure. Christian Grey thinks I’m beautiful. I knot my fingers together, staring at them hard, trying to conceal my goofy grin. Perhaps he’s farsighted. My subconscious has reared her somnambulant head. Where was she when I needed her?
“And you’re seriously discussing what I want to do, when you have no experience.” His brows knit together. “How have you avoided sex? Tell me, please.”
I shrug. “No one’s really, you know…” Come up to scratch, only you. And you turn out to be some kind of monster. “Why are you so angry with me?”
“I’m not angry with you, I’m angry with myself. I just assumed—” He sighs. He regards me shrewdly and then shakes his head. “Do you want to go?” he asks, his voice gentle.
“No, unless you want me to go.” Oh, no…I don’t want to leave.
“Of course not. I like having you here.” He frowns as he says this and then glances at his watch. “It’s late.” And he turns to look at me. “You’re biting your lip.” His voice is husky, and he’s eyeing me speculatively.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. It’s just that I want to bite it, too. Hard.”
I gasp. How can he say things like that to me and not expect me to be affected.
“Come,” he murmurs.
“What?”
“We’re going to rectify the situation right now.”
“What do you mean? What situation?”
“Your situation. Ana, I’m going to make love to you, now.”
“Oh.” The floor has fallen away. I’m a situation. I’m holding my breath.
“That’s if you want to. I mean, I don’t want to push my luck.”
“I thought you didn’t make love. I thought you fucked hard.” I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry.
He gives me a wicked grin, the effects of which travel all the way down there.
“I can make an exception, or maybe combine the two, we’ll see.
I really want to make love to you. Please, come to bed with me.
I want our arrangement to work, but you really need to have some idea what you’re getting yourself into.
We can start your training tonight—with the basics.
This doesn’t mean I’ve come over all hearts and flowers—it’s a means to an end, but one that I want, and hopefully you do, too. ” His gaze is intense.
Oh my. Wishes do come true.
“But I haven’t done all the things you require from your list of rules.” My voice is all breathy, hesitant.
“Forget about the rules. Forget about all those details for tonight. I want you. I’ve wanted you since you fell into my office, and I know you want me. You wouldn’t be sitting here calmly discussing punishment and hard limits if you didn’t. Please, Ana, spend the night with me.”
He holds his hand out to me. His eyes are bright, fervent…
excited, and I put my hand in his. He pulls me up and into his arms so I can feel the length of his body against mine, this swift action taking me by surprise.
He runs his fingers around the nape of my neck, winds my ponytail around his wrist, and gently pulls so I’m forced to look up at him.
He gazes down at me. “You are one brave young woman,” he whispers. “I am in awe of you.”
His words are like some kind of incendiary device; my blood flames. He leans down and kisses my lips gently, and he sucks at my lower lip.
“I want to bite this lip,” he murmurs against my mouth, and carefully he tugs at it with his teeth. I moan, and he smiles. “Please, Ana, let me make love to you.”
“Yes,” I respond, because that’s why I’m here. His smile is triumphant as he releases me and takes my hand and leads me through the apartment.
His bedroom is vast. The ceiling-height windows look out on lit-up Seattle high-rises. The walls are white, and the furnishings are pale blue. The enormous bed is ultramodern, made of rough, gray wood like driftwood, four posts but no canopy. On the wall above it is a stunning painting of the sea.
I am quaking like a leaf. This is it. Finally, after all this time, I’m going to do it, with none other than Christian Grey.
My breath is shallow, and I can’t take my eyes off him.
He removes his watch and places it on top of a chest of drawers that matches the bed, then removes his jacket, placing it on a chair.
He’s dressed in his white linen shirt and jeans.
He is heart-stoppingly beautiful. His dark-copper hair is a mess, his shirt hanging out—his gray eyes bold and dazzling.
He steps out of his Converse shoes and reaches down and takes his socks off individually.
Christian Grey’s feet… Wow, what is it about naked feet?
Turning, he gazes at me, his expression soft.
“I assume you’re not on the pill.”
What? Shit.
“I didn’t think so.” He opens the top drawer of the chest and removes a packet of condoms. He gazes at me intently. “Be prepared,” he says. “Do you want the blinds drawn?”
“I don’t mind,” I whisper. “I thought you didn’t let anyone sleep in your bed.”
“Who says we’re going to sleep?”
“Oh.” Holy hell.
He strolls slowly toward me. Confident, sexy, eyes blazing, and my heart begins to pound. My blood’s pumping through my body. Desire, thick and hot, pools in my belly. He stands in front of me, staring down into my eyes. He’s so freaking hot.
“Let’s get this jacket off, shall we?” he says softly, taking hold of the lapels and gently sliding my jacket off my shoulders. He places it on the chair. “Do you have any idea how much I want you, Ana Steele?”
My breath hitches. I cannot take my eyes off his. He reaches up and gently runs his fingers down my cheek to my chin.
“Do you have any idea what I’m going to do to you?” he adds, caressing my chin.
The muscles inside the deepest, darkest part of me clench in the most delicious fashion.
The pain is so sweet and sharp I want to close my eyes, but I’m hypnotized by his eyes staring fervently into mine.
Leaning down, he kisses me. His lips are demanding, firm and slow, molding to mine.
He starts unbuttoning my shirt while he places featherlight kisses across my jaw, my chin, and the corners of my mouth.
Slowly he peels it off me and lets it fall to the floor.
He stands back and gazes at me. I’m in the pale-blue lacy perfect-fit bra. Thank heavens.
“Oh, Ana,” he breathes. “You have the most beautiful skin, pale and flawless. I want to kiss every single inch of it.”
I flush. Why did he say he couldn’t make love? I will do anything he wants.
He grasps my hair tie, pulls it free, and gasps as my hair cascades down around my shoulders.
“Mmm, I like brunettes.” And both of his hands are in my hair, grasping each side of my head.
His kiss is demanding, his tongue and lips coaxing mine.
I moan, and my tongue tentatively meets his.
He puts his arms around me and hauls me against his body, squeezing me tightly.
One hand remains in my hair, the other travels down my spine to my waist and down to my behind.
His hand flexes over my backside and squeezes gently.
He holds me against his hips, and I feel his erection, which he languidly pushes against me.
I moan once more into his mouth. I can hardly contain the riotous feelings—or are they hormones?
—that rampage through my body. I want him so badly.
Gripping his upper arms, I feel his biceps.
He’s surprisingly strong…muscular. Tentatively, I move my hands up to his face and into his hair.
It’s so soft, unruly. I tug gently, and he groans.
He eases me toward the bed, until I feel it behind my knees.
I think he’s going to push me down on it, but he doesn’t.
Releasing me, he suddenly drops to his knees.
He grabs my hips with both his hands and runs his tongue around my navel, then gently nips his way to my hipbone, then across my belly to my other hipbone.
“Ah,” I groan.
Seeing him on his knees in front of me, feeling his mouth on me, it’s so unexpected, and hot.
My hands stay in his hair, pulling gently as I try to quiet my too-loud breathing.
He gazes up at me through impossibly long lashes, his eyes a scorching smoky gray.
His hands reach up and undo the button on my jeans, and he leisurely pulls down the zipper.
Without taking his eyes off mine, his hands move beneath the waistband, skimming me and moving to my behind.
His hands glide slowly down my backside to my thighs, removing my jeans as they go.
I cannot look away. He stops and licks his lips, never breaking eye contact.
He leans forward, running his nose up the apex between my thighs. I feel him. There.
“You smell so good,” he murmurs and closes his eyes, a look of pure pleasure on his face, and I practically convulse. He reaches up and tugs the duvet off the bed, then pushes me gently so I fall on the mattress.