AN: Thanks to those who have read/ followed/ added Fifty's Shades as a favorite/ and reviewed! I decided I would add another chapter to see what kind of response I get. Most of the conversational pieces follow with E.L. James' writing because I truly want Christian's POV on the books as they are. So I intend no copywrite and claim no ownership over the storyline itself or much of the conversation, just Christians POV is mine. Again let me know what you think!
Also, If you haven't already read DArkness and White by PerhapsPerhapsPerhaps you must. It's a thrilling story based off the FSOG books but with new characters and circumstances. It's amazing and I'm hooked. Check it out!
Now onto Chapter 2. Enjoy. Then review!
I leave the suite followed immediately by Taylor with Ana trailing quietly behind. I dismiss Taylor and he begins down the hallway. I look intently into Ana's eyes, looking for permission, rejection, a hint of what she's thinking and I find myself just getting lost. Shit, focus Grey.
"I wondered if you would join me for coffee this morning."
She looks like a deer in headlights. Christ. Maybe I've been reading her wrong this whole time. What would a beautiful and pure woman like her want with a tortured soul like me anyway? I'm so far out of my league with this one. She finally opens her mouth to respond. These few seconds have felt like an eternity.
"I drove everyone here." She responds, twisting her fingers together frantically as if this could calm her nerves. I'm reminded again that she is affected by me. I'm not imagining it! My eyes settle on her plush pink mouth as I call out to Taylor who is still heading down the hall. Once he reaches us, Taylor agrees to take Katherine, the drooling photographer Jose, and the incompetent light boy whose name I still cannot recall back to the university.
"There. Now can you join me for coffee?" I smile. Thinking I've made it past the difficult part, there's no more excuse to be offered. She seems as though her manners are engrained and she will atlas join me for this date. Date? Is that what this is? I've never had a date before. No. No. No. This is just an interview. A twist on my normal interview, but an interview all the same. Get this through your head Grey. You wish it were a date. I quietly tell my subconscious to shut up as I wait for her reply.
"Um-Mr. Grey, er- this really… look, Taylor doesn't have to drive them home. I'll swap cars with Kate, give me a minute." And with that she disappears back behind the suite door. I find myself unable to contain the smile from forming on my face. Normally I'm very good at hiding my feelings and remaining impassive, not around the ravishing Miss Steele. No, all normalcy has turned to shit. I feel like I planned to go to a Mariners game and ended up in Gillette stadium… across the country and in the wrong sport. But hey, maybe I'll enjoy football.
The anticipation of finally being alone with her again is almost too much to stand. I lean against the wall and let it support the weight of my head, with my hands in my pocket, and eyes closed. I wait patiently for the door to open. I open my eyes at the sound of the door reopening to catch every glimpse of her perfect body moving toward me.
"Okay let's go." She says blushing, and I can't help my responding grin.
"After you." I extend my hand further acknowledging my command for her to proceed before me. I want a moment to take in the site of her fantastic ass. I wonder what it would feel like to have it warm and pink under the sting of a good spanking, how it would look as I take her from behind… mmm yes. Grey, marshal your thoughts… again.
I need a distraction from my very delicious thoughts. I ask about her friendship with Katherine but am quickly distracted again by thoughts of taking her in the elevator and skipping coffee all together as we stand waiting for the lift to arrive. Oh the things I could do to you Miss Steele. When the doors open, we see a young couple enthralled in a passionate embrace. I look at Ana and see she is blushing yet again, hey eyes cast down as we step into the elevator aside the now embarrassed couple.
I try to contain my amusement at the situation. I can feel the smile tugging at my lips and I'm not sure if it's the joy of Anastasia being so close to me, the salacious images that keep bombarding my brain, or if it's the discomfort of the couple, but at this point, I don't much care. I need to touch her and feel that delicious current run through my body again. When the elevator doors slide open at the lobby I take my chance. Grabbing her hand I lead her across the hotel entrance, and at the outburst of laughter from the couple, I shake my head muttering, "What is it about elevators?"
I decide to avoid the revolving door because I cannot stand the thought of letting go of her hand right now, so I don't. As we step into the May sunshine I lead her to Portland Coffee House, a shop I frequent when here on business just a few blocks away from the hotel. I sneak a look at her while waiting at a crosswalk and can't help but notice the earsplitting grin on her face. It warms my chest but I implore myself to keep a straight face. I've given away too much already.
When we enter the shop I tell her to find a table while I fetch the drinks. Interesting that she chooses tea while we're out for coffee. She's not keen on coffee, eh? I'll have to remember that. English Breakfast tea, bag out. Committed to memory. I smile at that thought that there might be call for me to get her breakfast and a tea prepared by Mrs. Jones at Escala one day as I head to the counter. Waiting in line my mind again plays tricks on me, flashing all manner of sexual images of her in my playroom, in my bedroom, in my shower, on the table in this coffee shop. I need to get through this date in one piece and with some semblance of control. There's that word again, date. And what's this having her in my bedroom thought? I never have submissives in my bedroom, ever. I rake my hands through my hair in frustration at my own thoughts, grab our beverages and my muffin and return to the blushing beauty sitting before me.
"Penny for your thoughts?" I ask and she jumps, startled. There's that gorgeous blush again. Christ, will I ever tire of that? I clear the tray and set it aside to clear the space between us. I want an unobstructed view of those perfect tits. Damn she is extraordinary, and I'm reminded briefly of the conversation we had over the Trouton's in my office… "Raising ordinary to the extraordinary." How right she was. She responds saying something about her tea, wait that was important, her favorite. Add Twinings to that note about English Breakfast tea.
I can't help but want more out of her. I tilt my head to the side, urging her to continue to talk. Tell me all about you sweetheart, I want to know everything. I want you. But I want you to myself. The image of the photographer staring and smiling just a little too long at her cools my blood again and I find myself asking if he is her boyfriend.
Whoa. What was that? No preamble huh Grey? Get your shit together.
"Who?" She asks.
"The photographer." She laughs nervously I think. She responds no, and then asks what gave me that impression.
"The way you smiled at him, and he at you." I hold her gaze, willing her to tell me what I want to hear, that she'll be mine. She says he's more like family than anything else. I nod nonchalantly and begin on my blueberry muffin.
"Do you want some?" I ask, amused at the expression of confusion on her beautiful face.
"No thanks." Again, her stare returns to her twisting fingers on her lap.
I ask again about the boy from the hardware store, I need to be sure she's not with anyone.
"No. Why do you ask?"
Hmm… think this over Grey before you respond. Don't overdo it.
"You seem nervous around men." That may have been too strong; her blush is more scarlet than I have yet to see, apart from maybe when she asked if I was gay. The thought alone gets my palm twitching begging for contact with her sweet ass.
"I find you intimidating." She looks up to my eyes, breathes the words, and quickly returns to studying her fingers as she continues to weave them into nervous knots.
"You find me intimidating… That's honest." Please look at me. I need to see your face. Your eyes… they give me hope. Please look up. I feel like I'm screaming inside. Suddenly I hear myself ask her to look up. I apparently have little brain to mouth filter today. I broke that filter, scoffs my subconscious. Figures, I think to myself. In the few moments where I battled my subconscious, she braved a glance up at me. I smiled at the eye contact and she continues to lift her head. Well, I better use this lack of filter to my advantage. Let's be honest with her.
"It gives me a clue to what you're thinking when you look at me. Takes away a little piece of the veil covering the biggest mystery I've ever encountered. You're so self-contained. Except when you blush of course, I just want to know what you're thinking when that happens." Cue the blush. The thought makes me smile as I pick at my muffin and try to playfully pop a piece into my mouth to ease some of the sexual tension building between us… but there's also another kind of tension, one I've never felt before and I can't put my finger on what to label it. You know what it is Grey, you're just to scared to admit it.
"Do you always ask such personal questions?"
"I hadn't realized I was. Have I offended you?" Shit, Grey. Too much, too soon.
"No." She answers.
"Good." Okay, breathe Grey.
"But you're very high handed." I raise my eyebrows and feel my cheeks warm at her interaction. Miss Steele has some bite to her, a very delectable smart mouth.
"I'm used to getting my way, Anastasia. In all things" I mutter quietly. I feel like a puppy that just got sent to the corner. Feelings like this are why I don't entertain women outside my lifestyle. I avoid these feelings. What are you doing here Grey? What do you expect from this? Anastasia. My mind answers as hope blossoms again in my chest.
"Why haven't you asked me to call you by your first name?" Her question catches me off guard and pulls me immediately away from my wandering thoughts. I feel so torn between continuing to pursue this ravishing creature that has my head in a spin or listening to my subconscious' snide remarks and telling her to run while she still can. Keep it simple. Don't get ahead of yourself yet.
"The only people who call me that are my family and close friends. That's how I like it." There keep her at a distance still until you have a better read on her Grey. You need to play this cool. I distract myself again with my muffin and coffee and jump into questions based on her background check. I want the focus off me so I can think more clearly. Here we go Miss Steele.
Many of her answers are short. "My mom lives in Georgia, my step-dad in Montesano." "My father died when I was a baby." "I don't remember him."
"You're not giving much away, are you?" I ask. Intrigued by our exchange, feeling myself getting lost in thought again.
"Neither are you." She responds.
"You've already asked some prying questions during my interview if I do recall correctly Miss Steele." I smirk as her blush returns again. Oh yes, the infamous gay question. I busy my right hand by picking up my coffee and taking a large sip to distract from the twitching that has begun again. Apparently this does the trick because she continues on about her mother and stepfather.
After a while, she returns the questions to me, asking about my family, who they are, what they do. I give her short answers. My mind is too wrapped up in the battle between should I stay or should I go? The chords form The Clash ringing in the background of all the noise in my head.
I say something about Mia's being in Paris and she comments on how she hears it is lovely.
"It's beautiful. Have you been?" I can feel myself lighten at this conversation and find myself hoping I can take her and show her all of my favorite places there.
"I've never left mainland USA."
"Would you like to go?"
"To Paris? Of course! But It's England I most want to visit. It's home to all the literary greats; Shakespeare, Austen, Thomas Hardy. I'd like to see the places that inspired some of my favorite books." She wants hearts and flowers Grey. All you can offer her is whips and chains. This is not going to be the life for her. Let it go. Let her go.
"I'd better go. I have to study for my exams." She states. I suddenly don't want her to leave. But I'm not sure I can prolong this anymore either.
"Is Miss Kavanagh's car in the hotel parking lot?" She nods and smiles sweetly.
"I'll walk you back."
"Thank you for the tea, Mr. Grey." I smile at the memory of our time together, wayward thoughts aside I thoroughly enjoyed her company.
"The pleasure was all mine Anastasia. But you're welcome." I need to feel her against my skin again. I hold my hand out hoping she'll take it, and she does. My heart skips a beat.
As we head back to the Heathman I endeavor to keep my calm. You've come this far without losing your cool Grey, make it another five minutes and you'll be in the clear. Focus on Ana. Beautiful and sexy as all hell, Ana. But what have I gained in terms of knowledge about if she'll accept my proposal for submission or run for the hills screaming? Of that I'm not sure. Guess I'll just have to see her again. I can feel my fingers tighten around hers at the mere notion of seeing her again. I want to see her in Louboutins and a sexy cocktail dress, laid back on my bed waiting for me to allow her to come. Wait, my bed? Again, where's that coming from?
"Do you always wear jeans?" I ask, curious about how much of a fight I might get for suggesting a wardrobe more suited to my wallet.
"Mostly." She answers quickly then suddenly blurts, "Do you have a girlfriend?"
I chance a sideways glance at her and try to contain my smile. Careful answering this Grey, you don't want her to get the wrong idea. Yes I want her but I don't do hearts and flowers.
"No, Anastasia. I don't do the girlfriend thing." I reply softly. There. I think that did the trick… just vague enough.
I can feel her begin to slip away from me, lost in thought. She moves to cross the street without looking and trips over the sidewalk, stumbling toward the street.
"Shit, Ana!" I cry out and reach reflexively for her hand as a bike bombs down the one-way street going the wrong way. She crashes into my chest and is cradled in my arms. Wow. That happened quickly. I'm glad I was here to keep her from harm. This is what I do. I can take care of her. Keep her safe. This is what I want to do for her. What I want to do to her is also alluring, but in this moment, I realize what I want to do for her is to keep her safe.
She smells so heavenly, clean like fresh washed linens on the line by the oceanside. It reminds me of when I was a kid, a few years after baby Mia arrived, and mom and dad rented a beach home for a month in the summer. That was the smell of Ana, fresh, innocence, beauty, and home. Hmmm…. Home.
"Are you okay?" I whisper. As I steady one arm around her to hold her upright and the other traces her face, trying desperately to memorize her features, the touch igniting my skin. My thumb makes contact with her lower lip and my breathing hitches in my throat. Shit Grey, why'd you touch her mouth? I look into her eyes, locking into her gaze. I want so badly to kiss that perfect mouth. To push her into the alley between the Heathman and the pharmacy next door and get my first taste of Miss Steele and all she has to offer. But then her gaze shifts to my mouth and I can feel her willing me to kiss her with every fiber of her being. I can almost hear her. I need to stay in control. Don't do it Grey. You can't give her what she wants. Let her have a life, a real life, not one filled with things she can't even imagine. Let her go. Let her have her hearts and flowers.
But can I do it? And I, in this moment, realize I want no part of letting her go.
