I wake suddenly the next morning and my first thought is that the sun is much higher than it usually is when I wake up. My next thought reminds me of the night before and how surreal it was from beginning to end. Just to confirm it actually happened, I look down and see the beautiful woman lying with her back to my chest. I'm amazed at how well I slept last night, not to mention how I never even considered not sharing my bed with Anastasia. I can hardly believe the effect she has had on me since we met. Before then, I never considered the possibility that I could have a relationship with a woman that didn't involve tying them up; I never wanted it. So what is it about this woman that makes me different? I'm not embarrassed to admit it's a little frightening.

But I set that aside as her breathing begins to change and she turns to her back in my arms, her eyes slowly fluttering open. She frowns briefly as though she's uncertain where she is, but a moment later, her eyes meet mine and she smiles shyly.

"Good morning," she says quietly, her voice husky with sleep. It's quite possibly the sexiest thing I've ever heard.

"Good morning, Miss Steele," I murmur, leaning in to press my lips against hers. "How did you sleep?"

She sighs contentedly. "Very well. You?"

I nod slowly, still mentally working through this whole situation. "Yes, I slept very well, too," I murmur, smiling. "This was a first for me."

She raises an eyebrow in slight confusion. "What was?" she asks tentatively.

"Sharing my bed with somebody," I answer, holding her gaze.

Her confusion mounts. "What about your..." She trails off and I don't know if it's because she doesn't want to say the word submissive or if she's searching for another word. "Your exes?"

I shake my head. "They always slept in a bedroom upstairs," I explain carefully. "I have... issues..."

For a moment, I think she might smirk and come out with a smart ass reply, but she simply looks thoughtful. "Issues like the way you don't like people touching your chest or back?"

"Yes, that's part of it," I say warily. "Without going into too much detail at such an early hour, before I was adopted, my life was a nightmare that I still occasionally relive. The touching thing is a result of..." I really don't want to go into this with her, but at the same time, I want nothing more than for her to know me. It's all very confusing. I don't know if it's lucky or not when Ana glances at my chest, her eyes darting between my scars and understanding hits her.

"Oh," she says in a small, sympathetic voice. I wonder vaguely if she's imagining Cody in the same situation I was in as a small child. "I'm sorry you went through that."

I avert my eyes and nod in acknowledgment of her words while trying to ignore what I interpret as pity in her gaze. This is why I don't share my life story with people. I don't want them treating me like I'm a freak or breakable. I got to where I am today on my own merit—I built my company from the ground up, watched it grow and flourish into what it has become, and I will continue to do everything in my power to achieve my dreams. Now, though, my dreams seem to be shifting to include Anastasia, particularly after last night.

"Christian?" she says quietly.

Finally, I meet her eyes again and I'm shocked when I don't see the things in her expression I expected to find. "Sorry," I murmur. "These aren't things I like talking about to people."

She nods in understanding. "Well, in an attempt to salvage what has turned into a thoroughly morose morning, would you like breakfast?" she asks lightly, teasingly.

Just the sight of her biting her lip against a smile is enough to make me forget what we were just talking about. I consider her question for a minute, but am immediately distracted as she squirms beneath the sheet, under which I know for a fact she is completely naked. Rather than answer vocally, I lean in to press my lips to hers in a long, slow kiss. She seems surprised at first, but a moment later, I feel her fingers tentatively making their way into my hair as though she doesn't know if she's allowed to do so.

"I really enjoy your fingers in my hair," I whisper into her ear, pulling the lobe between my lips and making her moan. In response, her fingers tighten in my hair, pulling it almost to the point of pain, and it feels fucking incredible. I move over her, pushing the sheet aside so I can rest my weight on her. "I also enjoy how well we seem to fit together." I run my nose down the column of her neck and she squirms beneath me in an attempt to get me where she and I both want me to be. "It's as though you were made for me, Anastasia."

Reaching down between us, I find her already soaking wet and wanting. Is she like this from last night still or have I turned her on this much already? Not that I actually give a shit about the answer; I'm more concerned about burying myself in her and making her forget the depressing conversation we just had. I don't want her dwelling on it; she's got enough problems in her life without adding mine to the pile. We both have baggage and as overwhelming as it tends to be, perhaps between the two of us, we can find some way to overcome all of it.

Breakfast was great as was the shared shower that followed, but the moment we reached the garage so I could drive her home, everything suddenly changed and I'm not sure how or why. Ana hasn't said a word to me since I helped her into the car. As I pulled into Sunday morning traffic, I tried coming up with something, anything to break the sudden awkward tension between us and I've got nothing. Every so often I glance over and find her curled up small in her seat staring out the window and replay every interaction we had this morning to figure out where I went wrong. The only blemish since we woke was the brief discussion about my early childhood. Is that what she's thinking about?

I have no idea how to go about asking her not to think about it. Horrendous as it was, it is in the past and I'm working on moving on from it and I do everything within my power not to dwell on it anymore than I must. Perhaps she's thinking this is one detail too much after what I revealed to her last night and she's decided it's just not worth the drama. Dread fills my stomach at the very thought; I've only just begun coming to terms with the idea that I could possibly have what amounts to a normal relationship and I want to explore those possibilities more. I don't want to lose her now, but how can I convince her to stay if she thinks it would be better to leave?

By the time I pull up to the curb outside her apartment building, I still have no answers. I don't want to push her into a relationship with me—well, the rational part of me doesn't—so begging is out, even if I knew how to beg. Seduction is the next tool in my inventory and I know damn well I would succeed, but that would amount to manipulation and if this is to happen between us, I want her with me because that is where she wants to be.

"Are you okay?" I ask quietly, reaching out to touch her hand and admiring her outfit. I asked Taylor to pick up a few things for her so she wasn't returning home wearing the same thing she did last night. Taylor chose well.

Ana nods, turning tome with a forced smile. "Yeah, there is just a lot to process. And I have a lot of questions I want to ask, but I'm not sure I want the answers," she admits. "I want to trust you, and I do. Last night wouldn't have happened if I didn't. I guess what I'm worried about is that you've said you've done this for a while and it's what you know, so what if you decide what you and I have isn't enough? Where does that leave me?"

I swallow hard, her concerns mirroring my own. "Look, I can't explain it, but the pull I feel towards you outweighs everything I've done previously. In all honesty, I don't know what the future holds so I can't say I'll never think about it in terms of you. For so long, it was what I needed to get my life on track and keep it there. It was unconventional and only a handful of people have ever known about it, but is what it is. And I want to keep it in the past. More than anything, though, I want to see where you and I can go from here. I know it won't be perfect and it may not be easy, and I'll probably screw up from time to time, but I want you and you're worth trying for. Just... please trust me and give me a chance. Let all this shit settle and if you still want to ask questions, I am more than willing to answer them." I reach for her hand again, pressing my lips to each of her knuckles. "Whatever you need, whether it's to take things slow or baring my soul to you, just let me know."

She gives me a small smile, but at least it looks genuine. "I think it's a little late to take things slow, Christian," she teases. "But okay, you have your chance. Don't screw it up."

I chuckle. "I'll do my best, Miss Steele," I assure her, leaning in to kiss her. I have to remind myself that we're sitting in a car in broad daylight in front of her apartment, so I push back the desire to escalate the kiss. "Shall I walk you upstairs?"

She takes a deep breath, clearly disappointed that I ended our kiss. "I would say yes, but Cody and I are heading to Portland today to see my dad. And if he sees you, I'll never get him out the door."

"Oh," I say, surprised that she didn't mention this before. I want to offer to take her myself, but the time apart may be best for both of us. "Okay. Call if you need anything."

She nods, reaching for her purse sitting between her feet. "I will," she says. "And thank you for a wonderful evening, Mr. Grey."

My smile widens. "You are most welcome, Miss Steele. I hope we can repeat some aspects from last night very soon."

She raises an eyebrow, giving me a mischievous smile as she opens the door. "Only if you're very lucky," she says seductively. My eyes are wide and I have to shift in my seat as she gets out of my car.

"See you soon, Anastasia." I'm not sure if that's a threat or a promise and I don't think she is either. The last I see of her before she closes the car door is her biting her lip. Before I leave, I watch as she sashays to the building door, and I groan out loud. This woman is going to kill me...

Later in the evening I deploy my usual distraction techniques in an attempt to get something productive done rather than thinking about Ana all day. It doesn't work. Every time I pause for more than a second, I think about how it felt to have her in my arms while we danced last night, the way her eyes lit up while we watched the fireworks, the sounds she made and how we moved together in bed... Better than all that, though, the way she seems to have accepted one of my biggest secrets. That in itself is a miracle. My concern now is she will have time to think herself out of seeing me again. More than once today, I've been tempted to jump in the car and drive own to Portland to see her at the hospital. Rationality prevailed, thankfully, and I now eagerly await hearing from her.

Taylor outdid himself with his task of assigning security to Ana. I haven't yet met Luke Sawyer, but according to his background check, he's spent the last ten years in the FBI, but left because his last case burned him out. I'm not entirely sure I want to know what that case was about. He and Taylor have been friends for quite a while and Taylor speaks highly of him. At least I can relax knowing Ana will be safe in Portland with him keeping an eye out for her.

All day I've waited to hear from Elliot so he can give me shit about Ana. I imagine Shannon is keeping him in line for the moment, but at some point, he'll show up with that annoying, knowing grin of his and proceed to ask me every inappropriate question he can come up with even though he knows I would never actually answer them. This is what happens when a man's family thinks he's gay or celibate, or possibly both his whole life: the moment that belief changes, they hone in and it consumes them. Not that I'm about to correct their theories; usually I find it amusing the way they never broach the subject. But bringing Ana to the gala last night will have broken down those barriers. I don't care, as long as they don't start their shit in Ana's presence.

There's a brief knock on my study door that jolts me from my thoughts. "Mr. Grey?" Taylor says, poking his head around the door.

"What is it, Taylor?"

He hesitates and I become suspicious. This isn't his normal behavior. "Sir, Mrs. Lincoln in on her way up," he says apologetically.

I sigh heavily. And that's the other thing I've waited on since last night. I lost track of where Elena was

after I was forced to introduce Ana to her, but I doubt she was far and probably saw a lot more than I wanted her to. Better to get this over with now than put it off. "Let her in, Taylor," I say resignedly.

Nodding, Taylor turns and heads towards the elevator to meet Elena. I push myself from my chair and slowly follow, hoping desperately that this doesn't go the way I think it will.

Moments later, Elena is entering my apartment looking perfectly put together as always. She smiles genially when she reaches me, placing her hands on my arms as I lean in mechanically to kiss her cheek. "Elena," I murmur, gesturing for her to head into the great room. "This is a surprise."

"Oh, I was in the area," she says airily. "I thought I'd drop by since we didn't really get a chance to talk last night."

I smile tightly, uncertain what to say.

"Your attention was certainly focused," she says pointedly, leadingly.

"Yes, it was," I agree. "Is there something you needed, Elena, or are you just here to relive highlights from last night?" My tone is impatient and she doesn't miss it.

She narrows her eyes at me, her lips pursed. "What are you doing, Christian?" she asks exasperatedly. "Grace tells me you met this girl at some function for sick children and that you were quite taken with her. You can't tell me that young girl is in the life."

I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. "No, Elena, she isn't," I say dryly. "And frankly, it's none of your business."

"Really?" she replies, wholly unimpressed with me. "Well, she's certainly got you wrapped around her little finger. You can't even see what's happening, can you?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" I ask wearily.

Elena rolls her eyes. "Think about it, Christian," she says impatiently. "A young mother who probably makes minimum wage and can barely pay her rent meets an attractive, successful, billionaire businessman who could provide for her and her child. It's practically a cliché, Christian!"

I stare at her dumbfounded for a moment, her words registering in my mind until my expression turns into a mixture of incredulity, horror, and anger. "You think she's using me?" I say loudly, making her jump. "What the fuck is wrong with you? I don't have to defend my decisions to you anymore, Elena. It doesn't matter what you think, but I will tell you this: if you go anywhere near Anastasia or her son, I will not hesitate to liquidate the salons and terminate our business relationship."

Her mouth drops open. "You would throw away a thirteen-year friendship for some girl you've only known a matter of weeks?"

"Yes," I say without hesitation. "Because that 'matter of weeks' has been more fulfilling and genuine than anything you and I have done in thirteen years." The words shock me as much as they shock Elena, but I realize I actually mean them. Being with Ana is the best thing that has ever happened to me—not Elena getting me on the right track rather than dead or in prison; not the success of my company; not anything I've ever achieved in my life.

I take a deep breath and stand up. "I think you should leave now, Elena," I say calmly.

Her eyes flash in annoyance, but I don't give a fuck. "I think you're right," she replies coldly. She rises primly. "I hope you know what you're doing, Christian."

I don't respond, glancing at Taylor lingering near the foyer door to escort Elena out of the apartment. Once she's gone, I drop back onto the couch, burying my face in my hands. That is not how I wanted that conversation to go. Some part of me had hoped Elena would be happy for me as a friend should be for another friend for finding something good in life for the first time. I knew it would be too much to hope for that Ana and Elena would be friends, and I wouldn't want that anyway; I don't want Ana tainted with my old life and Elena is part of that. If there were a way to keep both parts—Elena and Ana, past and present—separate but still in my life, it would be preferable and wouldn't upset the balance of the world. But there isn't. Not if Elena thinks Ana is nothing but a gold digger who will ruin my life. Undoubtedly, Ana wouldn't be particularly impressed by the way Elena fits in my life.

It's a choice I have to make: keep something that has gotten me to this point of my life, giving me the control I've always needed or the woman who in such a short time has changed the way I view the world.

I huff. That's no choice. Anastasia Steele is who I want and I'm done over thinking it. I won't give her up without a fight, no matter what happens. And I will tear apart anybody who gets in our way.

It's late evening before I hear anything about Anastasia and it's in the form of an update from Sawyer. Ana has spent the day talking with doctors and sitting with her dad while he occupied and entertained Cody. I want to hear Ana's voice for myself, particularly following the drama with Elena this afternoon, but Sawyer says she is preoccupied and upset by whatever prognosis the doctors have given for her father. I don't know whether I should give her space or jump in my car and drive down to Portland to comfort her.

In the end, I decide to give her space, settling on sending her a text message to ask her how her day is going despite knowing through her security exactly how it's going. Even through text, I can sense her sorrow when she tells me Sawyer is driving them back to Seattle. Tempted though I am to be at her apartment when she gets home, I decide against it. She has enough to worry about and my mind is still reeling from my confrontation with Elena. I'm still trying to understand what the hell is going on, why my world has flipped upside down and what it might mean.

I bury myself in work, fine-tuning contracts, and reviewing résumés to replace a department head I fired last week because he failed a random drug test. Once again, the thought crosses my mind that I could solve a lot of Ana's problems by bringing her on at GEH. It would be another first and would break my rule about not fucking the staff, because if she worked in the same building as me, neither of us would get any work done. I let that little fantasy play out in different various scenarios and only return to reality when my phone rings.

"Grey," I answer, grabbing the phone without checking the caller ID and hoping my voice doesn't sound as hoarse as I think it might.

"Christian?" Ana's quiet voice is hesitant.

I sit up straighter, my previous fantasy long gone already. "Ana, what's wrong? Are you okay?" I ask urgently.

She laughs softly. "Yeah, everything is okay. I just got Cody down and Luke went home for the night." I frown at her use of her CPO's first name, but don't call attention to it. "I'm sorry for calling so late, I'm sure you're busy..."

"No, Ana, I'm not busy," I say quickly. "I'm glad you called. I've been thinking about you all day."

I can almost see her surprise. "Have you now?" she asks, then sighs. "I know it's late, and you probably have an early morning ahead of you, but, um, I was wondering if..." She trails off.

"Ana?" I prompt her. "Talk to me."

Another sigh. "Feel free to say no, it's fine, but I was wondering if you could come over?"

It's my turn to be surprised. "Come over?" I repeat.

"You know what, don't worry about it," she says hastily. "Like I said, nothing is wrong..."

"Ana," I say, trying to interrupt her.

"It's just been a long day and I can't sleep..."

"Ana," I try again.

"But I'll be fine..."

I smile, rolling my eyes. "Anastasia," I say, raising my voice slightly to get her attention. "Sit tight, I'm on my way now."

Silence. "Oh," she says, surprised. "Okay, then."

"I'll see you soon."

In record time, I'm arriving at Ana's door, feeling a sense of relief that surprises me. It feels like a weight I didn't even notice has been removed from my shoulders all because I'll see Ana shortly. I forget about Elena and everything else I've been stressed out about. By the time Ana opens the door, I'm smiling. She looks exhausted and like the day has somehow aged her, but she's smiling right back at me, tenuous though it may be.

"Hi," I say quietly, taking in every detail about her. She's in a baggy Mariners sweatshirt and pajama pants.

"Hi," she replies shyly. "Come in."

I do, and once she closes the door behind me, I turn around, slide one hand into her hair and the other rests on her hip as I push her against the door and kiss her deeply, the way I've wanted to all day. She returns the passion, our tongues and bodies moving together as though we've been doing this for years. She moans into my mouth and my lips trail down to her jaw to her neck, the hand in her hair tugging her head to the side for better access. Her fingers tug my hair in return as she tries to get closer to me.

We break apart to catch our breath. My forehead rests against hers, my eyes closed as I try to compose myself.

"I didn't actually plan that," I breathe, smiling.

Her body begins to shake and I open my eyes to find her laughing. "I'm definitely not complaining," she assures me.

With another brief kiss, I back away from her and let her lead me by the hand to the couch. "Do you want a beer?" she asks. "I was going to have one."

"Sure," I reply, watching her every move. She returns, handing me a beer as she curls up on the couch, legs tucked under her as she faces me. "Long day?" I ask in a murmur, reaching over to tuck some hair behind her ear.

She nods. "Very long day," she confirms. "Just being at the hospital all day is draining. Thankfully Luke was there to keep Cody occupied. I don't like letting him see my dad the way he is."

"Does he understand what's happening?" I ask.

Ana shrugs. "He knows his grandpa is sick. And he sees me getting upset about it. But I don't think he realizes the severity of the situation. What really worries me is what I'm going to tell him when the inevitable happens. I mean, he's three years old. He shouldn't even have the concept of death in his mind, let alone understand it." The bitterness in her tone surprises me. She frowns suddenly. "Shit. I'm sorry, Christian. I forgot about your birth mother..."

I shake my head, reaching for her hand. "Don't apologize," I murmur. "You're right. Children that young shouldn't be exposed to death or understand it. I don't think I did until I was older. At the time, all I knew was that I was being taken away from the only family I had and I didn't know why. I pieced it all together eventually and my mom and dad—Grace and Carrick—tried to help me understand. But those circumstances and the ones surrounding your dad are different."

"Maybe," she says. "I try to shield Cody from anything negative, whether it's my dad or his dad... I don't know if telling him now is the right thing to do or if I'm just making things more difficult for the both of us. I can barely come to terms with the fact that I'm going to have to make the decision about whether to let my dad go..."

"I'm sorry," I whisper. I don't know what else to say. "But just remember, whatever happens, I'm here if you need to talk or need a distraction, or anything."

She smiles wistfully. "Thank you," she replies shyly. "And thank you for coming over tonight. I was going to call Shannon, but she and Elliot had plans."

I smirk. "Well, even though I was your second choice, I'm more than happy to sit on your couch and drink your beer if that's what you need."

She giggles and my smile widens. For a few minutes, neither of us speaks, we just look at each other like we're trying to find... I don't know what. Finally she sighs, pulling her hands into the sleeves of her sweatshirt. "I told him about you," she says matter-of-factly.

I frown. "Who?" I ask.

"My dad."

My frown deepens and she laughs.

"All the nurses... they keep telling me to talk to him like I normally would. Nobody knows if he can even hear anything, but they say it doesn't hurt anything. So today, I told him about you."

I take a sip of my beer. "And what did you tell him?" I ask curiously.

She blushes and I raise my eyebrows, even more interested now. "I told him that I met a guy and that he's nice and sweet, and Cody already adores him. And I said that this guy has been really great to us, and that I really like him," she adds in a rush.

My other eyebrow rises to meet the first. "Is that so?" I murmur. Her blush darkens and she nods slowly. "Well, I have it on very good authority that this guy really likes you, too." And even that may be an understatement.

Ana looks down at her hands still hidden in her sweatshirt sleeves, smiling. She takes a deep breath. "Anyway, I did leave out a few details about you." She pauses, thinking for a moment. "Though in hindsight, the details I left out might bring him out of his coma if for no other reason than to hunt you down."

I think she's teasing, though the concept is amusing. "Then I for one am relieved you didn't tell him," I reply. That would be a new concept—not a man coming out of a coma to kick my ass, but having to deal a girl's parents.

"He'd like you," she says suddenly, and I think it's because she is having difficulty saying whatever she had been trying to say.

"Would he?" I ask.

She nods, again hesitant.

"What is it?" I murmur, hoping to prompt her into speaking.

Sighing, she reaches for her beer—liquid courage?—and drinks deeply for a moment before resting the bottle on her knee and begins playing with the label. "This morning, I told you I had a lot of questions about what you showed me last night."

I freeze, unwilling to even blink. Shit... "Yes, I remember," I say hoarsely. "Ask away, Miss Steele." I wasn't expecting this when I came over tonight.

Her eyebrows rise briefly in surprise. Was she expecting me to shut down her questioning after I promised to answer whatever she wanted to know? "Um, okay..." She pauses, thinking. "How long have you done... whatever it is you do?"

"About twelve years, give or take," I answer.

Brow furrowing, I know she's doing the math. Her eyes widen when she reaches an answer. "So you were... fifteen? Sixteen?" she whispers.

"Fifteen," I confirm.

Blinking, she processes this bit of information. "Okay," she says warily. "You said last night you were a Dominant. Were you always?"

I shake my head. "No," I whisper. "I started out as somebody's submissive. That lasted six years, then I switched."

"Whose submissive were you?" she asks reluctantly.

And this is where it gets complicated. "Somebody older who had been in the life for some time. She seduced me and introduced me to what it is she does."

"How did you even meet her, though?" she asks.

I sigh. "I'd known her most of my life," I say quietly. "She is a friend of my mother's."

"Is?" Ana repeats. "Like, present tense?"

There is a tinge of horror in her tone that makes me uneasy. "Yes," I whisper.

She's thinking again and I'm watching her connect the dots, and the horror grows in her expression. "The woman I met last night?" she says tentatively. My eyes widen in response; I don't know how to respond. "Wow..." She shakes her head in disbelief. "A little forewarning might have been nice," she says, her tone hardening.

"I know," I reply. "When I invited you to the gala, I didn't know she would be there. My mother mentioned it earlier in the week, but by last night with work and everything else, I forgot. She's typically punctual, so if she was going to be there last night, she would have arrived before we did. I didn't give her another thought until I spotted her while you and I were dancing."

Ana drains her beer. "I take it your mother doesn't know," she says derisively.

"No, she doesn't," I answer softly. "Nobody in my family does. In fact, only you, my therapist, and Elena's ex-husband know."

Her eyes widen. "Ex-husband? Were you and she... while she was married?"

I avert my gaze and that's enough answer for Ana.

"Oh," she breathes, standing and grabbing our empty beer bottles. She heads into the kitchen to grab a couple more, and though I want to follow her, to reassure her somehow, I give her space to process everything. Finally she returns, not looking at me as she hands me a new bottle.

I wait for her to say something, anything, even if it's to tell me to get out, but she's staring into her beer. "I should have told you before," I murmur apologetically, repeating my words from last night.

She gives me a half-smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "Yeah, it's probably for the best that you didn't," she admits. I'm not sure I want her to explain what she means. "Okay, so your mother's friend roped you into this... stuff—no pun intended. And you've done it for a while, so there must be something that attracted you it."

Shit. I know what she's going to ask next and I really don't want her to, but I can't stop her.

"Why?"

I sigh. "That is complicated," I say slowly. "When I was younger, it was the only way I could handle being touched by somebody else, particularly the opposite sex. That time was a nightmare for me and I sought control over whatever I could, and because of that, I was able to avoid a troubled life that would have led me to either prison or a grave."

"So you credit being on the right path to a married woman who took advantage of a teenage boy?" she asks, and I can't tell if she is more disgusted or angry.

"It's more than that," I say quickly, hoping this conversation isn't sabotaging this relationship. But I can't find the words to make her understand. I don't know if they even exist. "Look, Ana, I'm trying to be honest with you, I want to be honest with you. All that stuff I showed you last night, everything I'm telling you now... I don't want to scare you away. You're not like anybody I have ever met. I've never had any sort of real connection with another person, but it's so much more than that, and I don't understand it completely yet. Or at all, really. And there are things about me that if you were exposed to them, if your son were exposed to them, that would be the end. I don't want that, but if you tell me that's what you need, then I'll go."

And that is one of the most difficult things I've ever had to say. I wait with baited breath for her to process our conversation and hope like hell she doesn't push it any further to the point that I'll spill my darkest secrets.

She swallows hard and lets out a shaky sigh, finally meeting my gaze. "I don't want you to go," she breathes, eyes wide and guileless. Hope rises within me. "All these questions, everything you've shared with me, they don't change how I feel about you, Christian. I wanted you to be honest with me and you have been. And you said it yourself last week after Preston was here: we all have skeletons. I can't pretend to understand any of this or even make sense of it, but if it's in the past like you say, then I'm willing to let it go, for now, at least."

It's the best I can hope for and I'm already reaching for her as the smile on my face grows. "That is good news," I say softly before leaning in to kiss her.

But she places her hands on my arms, pushing me away, the softness in her expression exchanged for something that brings back my nerves. "Having said that," she begins, "this... woman who got you into this who is apparently still friends with your mother and you do business with... I want nothing to do with her. I don't want her near me and I don't want her near my son. Not ever. It's not my place to tell you to cut ties with her, but I don't even want to hear about her."

Is that all? I give her an ironic smile. "I assure you, if given the option, you wouldn't have met her last night. As for the future, I don't think that will be much of a problem."

She raises an eyebrow in surprise. "Really?" she says with disbelief.

I only debate for a moment about whether to tell her. "Elena showed up at my apartment earlier today. Following a rather loud conversation, I assured her that if she tried to contact you in any way, I would sever all ties with her, business and otherwise."

"Why would she try to contact me?"

I give her a half-shrug. "Because she thinks it's her responsibility to look after me," I reply. Ana gives me an oh, really look that makes me smile. "And yes, I realize how that sounds. She'll have her reasons. If she becomes a problem, I will handle it"

"Okay, then," she says, smiling and shaking her head. "I'm probably losing my mind, but okay."

I smirk. "Baby, if this is you losing your mind, I'm all for it," I say softly, finally moving in to kiss her.

Before either of is is really aware that it's happening, we're lying on the couch, me pressed into her. We kiss for long, blissful minutes, but when my lips trail down her neck, she yawns, and I pull back, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm sorry, am I boring you?" I ask teasingly.

She looks sheepish and apologetic. "No, definitely not," she answers firmly. "But I didn't get much sleep last night for some reason and I suppose it's catching up to me."

I smirk again, pleased by her words and the reminder of last night. "Fair enough," I say, sliding off of her and turning her so her back is against my chest. "Would you like me to leave?" I whisper the words against her ear.

I feel her smile against the arm she's using as a pillow. "Not really," she says sleepily. "Unless you need to."

I shake my head, resting it against hers. "Only place I want to be right now is right here, Miss Steele," I murmur into her hair.

"Hmm," is her contented response. And with that, we once again fall asleep together on her couch.