Chapter 48: Too Late to Apologize

Disclaimer: FSOG belong to EL James

I'm holding on your rope

Got me ten feet off the ground

And I'm hearing what you say

But I can't make a sound

Then you go and cut me down

But wait

You tell me that you need me then you go cut me down

You'd tell me that you're sorry, Didn't think I'd turn around and say-

It's too Late To apologize- One Republic

A/N. Thank you, for reading, reviewing and following me... Please enjoy.

Yawning, I slide my arms into Christian's white shirt from last night. Remarkably, it is still crisp. Popping the collar, I get a whiff, and his scent is lingering too. Luxuriating in the smell of Christian, and cologne, I rub the fabric against my skin. It is stiff but soft to the touch.

Relaxing my shoulders, I slip a couple of buttons through their companion holes and stammer out of the bedroom. Stumbling at the edge of the main room, I slide the remaining ones through the small holes, and I peer around the corner. I get a glimpse of Christian, and I'm alert. The imagery isn't the spiritual awakening of the previous night, but the sight of him sitting quietly reading the newspaper is just as soul stirring. It's also arousing another part of my anatomy. But I shove the naughty thoughts aside, and behind him, I tiptoe. His eyes squarely on the newspaper, Christian snaps his hand back, snags my wrist, and whirls me to his front.

Squealing, clumsily I fall onto his lap, and with my legs flailing, I ogle his mischievous but panty dropping smile. His catlike reflexes foiled my plans. "Not fair I wanted to surprise you."

Dropping the newspaper to the floor, Christian dips me, and he buries his face at the base of my throat. "You don't get it. You're in my veins. When you're near, I don't have to see you, the blood surges through my body," he murmurs against my skin.

Bracing my hand on his thigh, and side, I engage all the muscles in my core. "Same here, but this one time I was hoping I'd be able to sneak up on you." His head rises, and he helps me sit upright. "So, what's in the Sunday funnies that had you so engrossed, you couldn't acknowledge me," I tease.

"First tell me, how do you feel," Christian mutters, his hand creeping underneath his shirt skating tantalizingly slow along my thighs to my bare lady bits.

I swat him on the forearm. "Stop it!" He flashes me a Cheshire cat grin. "If you must know, I'm sore in my nether region. My upper region. My middle region." I motion.

"Gee," he snorts, "I should've been taking notes, that was quite a geography lesson."

"You asked, but you knew the answer. After all, you twisted me like I was a pretzel-"

"Don't forget, spanking that ass." I give him another wallop. "Why. Are. You. hitting me woman?"

"Why are you distracting me?"

Giving my thigh a lighthearted squeeze, he yanks his hand back and lists to the side. "Don't overreact." Studying my face, he retrieves the paper.

I eye him speculatively. "Christian, show me the darn paper." Bracketing me with his arms, he snaps the newspaper open. My curious eyes latch onto a grainy image. It's our likeness. It's us. Seizing the paper out of his hands, I bump his arms out my way, and lunge to my feet.

Pacing, intently I scrutinize the photo. It's after our big fight. Christian is leading me inside the Heathman. My head is bowed. The moment is tattooed in my mind, I was hiding my embarrassment from the hotel guests, not once did I consider insurgent paparazzi. "Oh my God." Fortunately, my face isn't visible, but that doesn't lessen the sting. "This feels like more than a violation of privacy."

I grumbled under my breath, but he heard. "Baby, before you get too excited Taylor is down stares handling it." Christian's attempts to settle my nerve is an exercise in futility, the picture is in my consciousness.

I stop in front of him. "How? Who?"

"The how we haven't figured out yet. Taylor doesn't recall seeing a flash, anyone, or anything suspicious." Over my shoulders, he inspects the photo, as if he's never seen it. "Considering the poor quality, we deduce it's an amateur – "

"Wait, "I broke in, "and a reputable media outlet accepted a photograph from in this condition, from an amateur and ran with it?"

"Hell yes. A picture of me with a woman is more newsworthy than the current the election." Extending his arm to my front, he attempts to pry the paper of my hands.

"No. I want to read the caption."

Relenting, he retracts his arm. "At least your face is unrecognizable, in one perspective that is a positive for our side, but it's also a negative- it will only make them hungrier. Come hell or high water they will investigate until they find out your identity."

"That's a welcoming thought. I'm so angry that they've invaded our perfectly crafted bubble," I say, and I start reading.

Who's the Mystery Girl? Late last night, Billionaire Christian Grey was snapped entering the Heathman Hotel in Portland, with a young woman attached to his hip. As long as, he'd been covered the extremely private bachelor had never been photographed with a paramour. Unfortunately, we don't a clear view of her face, but if her profile is any indication she's a looker, and from what we can make out from her sweat shirt more than likely she's a co-ed. Her casual dress and hair style would indicate that, and some outlet is already reporting Harvard maybe. Now if we can only find out her name, and confirm the relationship to one of the world's most eligible Bachelors. Gideon Cross has already fallen from the pantheon of bachelors could Christian Grey be next.

I smirk inwardly at the mention of Gideon's name, but my brief flirt with levity is ended when Christian rips the paper out of my hands. "Enough." He drapes his arm across my shoulders. "Taylor will be returning soon, go get dressed. I don't want him to see you in my shirt, especially when you're gloriously naked underneath it." I flinch, and he pulls me tighter. "Don't be angry at me, I'll be a jealous bastard to the end."

"I'm not, I have to shower anyway."

"Okay." He removes his arm. "What would you like? I've eaten my breakfast. I was waiting for you to wake up, to order yours. I didn't want it to grow cold."

"Thank you. Nothing heavy, definitely not the entire menu. Wheat toast, eggs over easy, fruit, and bacon maybe."

"Good girl, that's more food than I could've hoped for."

"I am a little hungry, but don't get too excited and add more to my order. I'm not starving."

He chuckles. "You know me so well."

"Please. If only that were true." Rising to my tippy toes, I give him a peck on the cheek. "Give me about 30 minutes before you call. I want to check in with my dad, and Kate." I stroke his arm. "Stop pouting, and tell me how bad it is. And be honest."

"Well, it can be contained but with the media sniffing around we may have to go back to Seattle sooner than later."

"It can't be today," I warn, "I'm working, and my team is presenting their paper tomorrow, so don't even think about asking me to leave. You can-"

"Don't you think about it. Returning without you isn't an option. Flying back last night, I promised myself I wouldn't be without you again. The last weeks were torturous."

"Then we're torn."

He smooths down my wild hair. "No, we're not. We'll stay here until you do what you have to do. I'll get with Taylor, and Luke, with the sharks circling our security plan, has to be more robust."

"I hope you weren't too hard on him."

"Who?"

"Luke."

"He's here isn't he," Christian snipes, "besides, Luke was only following my instructions to shadow you, not crowd you. Ultimately, your risky behavior wasn't his fault."

I give him a broad smile. "Since you're so accommodating, I will meet you half way. My business class tomorrow is my last, and I will let the Clayton's know that today will be my last day. So, I will go back to Seattle with you. I should be able to handle any loose ends remotely."

Christian wraps his arms around me. "I love you. Thank You."

"I love you too," I say, "this is what people in stable, healthy relationships do every day- compromise."

He hugs me tighter. "Compromise, I guess it's not a dirty word after all. So, are you calling Kate to check up on her asshole brother?"

"And you were doing so well," I sigh. "Partially, but mainly I want to let her know I survived the night with you. And, for the hundredth time, Ethan isn't an asshole. He's a good guy, and he's my friend."

"Correction Kate is your friend, her brother is one more asshole I have to worry about."

I nod my head. "You're incorrigible, I'm off."

I start to move, and Christian hauls me back. "Did I bruise you?"

"Somewhat."

He gestures with his chin. "Lift. Let me see what's somewhat."

"Baby, do you hear me complaining? Nothing that happened last night I was against. Yes, it was raw at times, but that's who we are as a couple. Our love making is animalistic, passionate, intense but it is always shrouded in tenderness, and love." Reaching up, I catch the edge of his jaw, and closing his eyes Christian inclines into my touch.

His eyes open, and my hand falls away. "Still, I'm sorry. I hate it when I leave a lasting mark on you."

"Christian any bruising I receive as a consequence of our intimacy, I'm fine with. I know it's not intentional so let it go, and let me go before Mr. Taylor walks in." Giving him another chaste kiss, I sashay to the bedroom.

The call to Ray is short, his taciturn demeanor has returned, a sure fire sign that he has fully recovered. Disconnecting from him, I tackle the most difficult phone call. Kate.

She answers on the second ring, and from the get go she rails in to me. Inclining back on the bed, I allow her. I endure her scolding rebuke of Christian and scathing critique of me that can be summarized by three words. Weak, naïve, and submissive, the latter is eerily searing, considering Christian's proclivities.

I cut in. "Kate, how's Ethan."

"He'll live, it's his ego that's bruised, and battered."

"Why?"

"Why? He was attacked in a bar full of people and didn't get a chance to retaliate. He wanted to standup to the bully. You should try it sometime."

I ignore the snide comment. "I've never known Ethan to be violent," I say.

"Everyone has a breaking point, and your boyfriend took Ethan to his."

"Kate, I'm going to the end the call, you're starting to rehash things. This was just a courteously. I'll call Ethan later."

"Isn't that Christian's responsibility. An apology from him would be nice."

"Bye Katherine..."

Setting the phone on the dresser, I lose Christian's shirt on my way to the bathroom. Since I showered last night, mainly I soak under the burst of warm water wallowing in the penetrating force of the droplets, and the steam emanating from the scolding temperature. My body and mind aptly reinvigorated, I turn off the water and stepping out I quickly dry off. Squeezing the towel along the length of my wet hair, I then stack the damp tresses on top of my head wrapping a different towel around it.

Stepping into the bedroom, I go directly to the closet and choose one of the fancy outfits Christian has stored there for me. Because I'm going to work, I choose something casual. As I dress, I rehearse my resignation speech. I hate the prospect of leaving the Clayton's in a lurch, they've been so good to me. My departure won't come as a surprise, it's the timing that will create a vacuum.

"Feel better," Christian says when I reappear.

"Yes." Galloping across the room, I launch myself at him attaching to his body like Ivey.

"Whoa," he chuckles. "Somebody's awake." Cupping the apple of my cheeks he secures me to his body.

"You should be used to this by now." Tilting my head, I drive my tongue inside his mouth. Our tongues flit over each other, our head bobs as we enjoy, the taste and sound of our union.

"Minty fresh," Christian murmurs in my mouth.

"Thank the Heathman."

"I will." The corners of my lips curve up slightly, and untangling my limbs, I disembark from his body.

"So. What did Mr. Taylor have to say?"

My feet touch the ground, and he curls his hand around mine. "Come. Your breakfast is here." I glance at the small table. My humble fare is set like a royal feast.

"Are you sure you didn't order more food?"

He grins. "No." Releasing my hand, he pulls out my chair. "It's all the unnecessary utensils."

"Thank you." Sitting down, I unfurl my napkin. "Mr. Taylor."

"I'm getting to it, I wanted to get you situated first," he says.

"I'm situated."

"I'm not." Leisurely, he sits, crosses his leg at the knee, and wraps his hand around his coffee cup. "Jason spoke with the manager, and he assured him that under no uncertain terms are his staff involved. Together they viewed the surveillance tape. They didn't find anything unusual, but Jason and Luke are going to scrub it more thoroughly later on. He saw a few reporters mulling about outside, but nothing too concerning so he determined it's safe for you to move forward with your day as planned." He touches the cup to his lips. "That's it."


The elevator doors slide together. "I'm sorry." His squared shoulders stay rigid. "I was under a lot of pressure with my dad, and I-

Abruptly he turns, stunning me. "Will you shut up." Brusquely grasping my face in his hands, Luke crushes his mouth to mine. I stagger off balance, and he presses me into the wall, forcing my lips apart, plunging his tongue inside my mouth. I veer between offering light resistance, caving to his desire, and resisting more forcibly. In the end, the headiness of being overwhelmed is too much, and I submit. The kiss is a firewall engulfing me in its flames, and I suck on his tongue for the sweet taste of his cool relief. "Yesss" His single word is hiss against my lips, and just as fast it started it's over.

Craving his lips, the tip of my tongue darts in and out. The wave hitting me pins me to the floor. And I open my eyes. "What was that," I pant. The professional façade is restored, and rolling his shoulders, Luke pivots forward. The elevator pings, and dishing protocol he exits but doesn't wait for me. I have to play catch up.

I sidle up to him. "It was a kiss," he says immediately.

"Don't be coy with me, Luke," I say struggling to keep pace with him. "Here, I was extending you a sincere apology."

His hand flattens on my back. "Get in."

"No." He glares at me, and ducking under his arm I climb inside.

Slamming my door, he opens his, and slipping behind the steering wheel, he twists in his seat. "You can stop with the apologies, I get it. The sexual tension between was palpable. So, I did both of us a favor. I kissed you to diffuse it. Now we can move on…" He stares at me quizzically. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah." I rake my hand in my hair. "It's my stomach."

"Wanna go to the bathroom?"

Warmth swarms my cheeks. "Nooo." I stick my middle finger in the air. "This isn't an embarrass Ana day."

"Touchy."

"Sorry, this morning just gets better, and better."

"I'm not trying to add to your woes, just the opposite."

"Tell me, was it everything you imagined?"

"No. It was everything I'd remembered." My scalp prickles. "What about you?" he says.

I gulp. "It was good."

"Relax. To suddenly be confronted with the idea of never kissing you again, felt like too higher a price to pay. It was the only thing keeping me from letting go."

"Now. You're free."

"Yes." He smiles. "You were very close to being completely free of me. The letter was written, then hubbub surrounding the photo hit. T. starting conferring with me, and I didn't feel so marginalized. For the first time in a long time I felt like more than a highly paid babysitter."

"I've been so selfish. I'd made this all about me- "

"It was, and it still is. I want to be here for you when the shit really hits the fan."

"You are so thoughtful. Thank you. I wouldn't trust anyone else to help me navigate this land mine, I've walked into."

"Truce." I clutch his proffered hand

"Truce," I say, and we shake on it.

Luke flips forward. "Ready to blow this popsicle stand?"

I chortle, and then suddenly bile bubbles up in my throat. "Stop!" Thrusting the door back, I leap from the car and dump the contents of my stomach all over the concrete just as I plant my feet. The splatter barely misses my shoes and the inside of the car. My head hanging, I spot the hem of his pants, and the tops of his shoes between my legs and my arm juts out.

"Are you alright?"

"Stay back."

"Sorry, I can't do that."

"Luke. Please." I swipe the back of my hand, across my mouth, and unfurling by body I reel around." "See. I'm fine." Sidestepping, the remnants of my breakfast I scramble back into my seat.

Stretching, Luke taps my door, it connects to the frame, and he hops backs into his seat. Our eyes meet in the rearview mirror. "Are we going to talk about what just happened?"

"No."

Out of nowhere a bottle of Gatorade appears. "Drink this." Sitting forward, I pluck it out his hand. "And here."

Flopping back against the leather, I study the items in my hand. "What kind of emergency kit stocks Gatorade, and gum?"

"The Gatorade was for me, but you need it more. It'll settle your stomach. And the gum, well no explanation needed."

Rolling my eyes, I take a swig from the bottle. "Thank you," I say, crumpling the gum into my mouth.

"God help me, Ana, if something is seriously wrong with you, I'm gonna kill you if Grey doesn't kill me first."

"Luke. I'm not sick. Contaminated eggs are probably the root cause. I'm already feeling better, so can we go now." I slap the top back on the bottle dropping it to the floorboard and stow the wrapper from the gum in my purse.

The car starts rolling and craning my neck I inspect my profile in the rearview mirror. My face is ashen. The queasiness subsided, but color as it is, is nowhere to be found on my face, so I pinch my cheeks. Then suddenly, I'm pitched forward. The bottle rolls against my foot and stops.

I cry out, as we skid to a halt. "Are you hurt?"

Burnt rubber fumes infuse the interior, and I lean forward fanning my nose. "No." I'm fortunate the safety belt blocked my momentum, it prevented me careening into the back of the seat. "Luke, what happened?"

The back of his hand shoots up, and he talks into the wrist of the other. "T. we're coming back." Motionless, I listen. "The vultures are out in throngs, the number has grown exponentially," Luke says. The transmission from his earpiece is contained, making it impossible for me to hear the other end of the conversation. "Sure we'll see you upstairs."

"What did he say?"

Luke thrusts the Audi into reverse. Whipping his head around, he throws his arm across the back of the seat. "Hang on." He floors the gas. The SUV lurches kicking me back into the seat and employing his defensive driving training at a relatively high rate of speed Luke zooms down the alley. Backwards.

Weaving, he skillfully cuts the corners, and without breaking, he wheels us into the same slot we'd just vacated. Thankfully, my stomach was empty. I breathe a sigh of relief when safely we come to a stop, but before I can react, my door swings open.

"Fuck."

"Christian." I peer at his feet, and his Italian loafers are wearing the residue of my breakfast.

I wince. "Sorry." Pensively he stares at me. Concerned is etched on his face.

Mr. Taylor pats him on the shoulder. I get her sir," he says.

Christian shrugs him off. "No." Fitting his body through the door, he snakes his arms under my me, and his eyes assess every inch of my frame before scooping me up. "Are you hurt." Clinging to his neck, I nod. "Are you sick?"

"No. Forget about me, what's going on? How did you get here so fast?"

Clearing the vomit, Christian walks out of his loafers. "We'll talk when I have you safely ensconced in my suite."

"You're scaring me."

"Don't be scared." In his socks, Christian whisks me inside the building, with Mr. Taylor, and Luke on our tail.

Mr. Taylor opens the door to the penthouse suite, and storming inside Christian races to the sofa placing me down on it. Arranging pillows against the armrest, he grabs my ankles spinning me, but I resist. "Christian stop." Dragging my feet out of his clutches, I toss my legs over the edge of the sofa. "I'm not lying down until somebody, please tell me what's going on." I zone in on Luke, but his eyes direct me to Christian.

Christian pivots forward. "Luke where's Jason?"

"Here you go sir," Mr. Taylor says, handing Christian a similar pair of loafers. "I'll discard the others."

Christian slides his feet into the shoes. "Jason, I'll meet you, and Luke in your suite."

The two men exits and hiking his pants legs, Christian sits next to me draping his arm across the sofa. "We're alone, now, be honest, are you ill?"

I huff. "No. But I am getting sick of the question. It was most likely a slight case of food poisoning," is my curt response.

Hefting his arm, he tucks my hair behind my ears. "Did Luke's quick actions, exacerbate your injuries? After what happened to your father I don't want to take any chances."

"Since I didn't sustain any injuries from the accident, I'm going to say no."

He smirks. "In any case, can I get you to lie down for a bit."

"I don't want to lie down Christian. I don't want to go to the hospital. I don't want any more food. Or water. I want answers." I fold my arms in front of my chest. "Now. It's your turn. Tell me the truth."

"That's quite a list," he sighs. "You may find this hard to believe, but I don't have answers. Not yet anyways. I overhead Luke's 911 to Taylor and dropped everything to get to you. If you promise me to lie down, I can comfortably go next door, gather more information, and relay it to you."

I flick my hand. "Go." Christian stands, and I sprawl out on the sofa. Positioning my head on the stack of throw pillows, I get comfy, and prior to leaving Christian blankets me with his jacket.

When he returns with Luke, and Mr. Taylor, I fling the jacket to the floor. "No, no, no, don't get up," Christian admonishes.

"For goodness sake, I'm not sick, so can everyone stop treating like I'm an invalid." I shoot daggers at the lot of them, but Luke and Mr. Taylor peer at Christian absolving themselves of any wrongdoing. If the situation weren't so tenuous, their expressions would be comical.

Closing the distance, Christian sits on the metal coffee table in front of me. "Here's the deal. Interest in the photo is growing, which dictates that we change protocol. We can't have a repeat of this morning. First, Jason will hold an impromptu news conference, in the lobby. He'll throw them some red meat, enough to choke on, but not get full." Hugging a pillow to my chest, I anxiously wait for the rest of the specifics.

To distract attention from me, they're going to send them on a wild goose chase. Leak that I'm a current student at Harvard. It's Christian's bright idea. Ironically, he got the inspiration from the damming photo. I'm wearing my sweatshirt in it. Consequently, they will request that Media gives me my privacy while I complete my studies.

"It's a solid plan, but what happens when they start lurking around at Harvard?"

He smirks. "They'll get blocked at every turn. My connections at Harvard runs as deep as my pockets, and my pockets are deep. "

"Of course." I prop the pillow up on it's twin, and I leer at him. "Money. With you, that's the answer to everything."

"Anastasia, I will Not apologize. It is times like these that it does not hurt to be me. To keep you safe, I will use everything in my arsenal. And that includes my money."

Guilty that I'd put him in an untenable position in front of his staff, I concede. "I trust you, Christian."

The lines on his chiseled cheeks soften. "Thank you, baby."

"Miss Kavanagh sir," Mr. Taylor interjects.

"Yes. Katherine." He steeples his fingers, tapping them to his lips. "Do you think she will drive your car here? As an extra precaution, we want to create a decoy."

"Um, driving the Beetle is a hard line for Kate, but I'll give her a call."

"If she agrees, have her park in the underground garage like a regular guest. You will leave with her. Luke will follow you two to the apartment, and from there the usual protocol will apply."

I sigh. "This cloak and daggers stuff is feeling like a movie I didn't audition for."

Coming to his feet, Christian grabs my hand hauling me to his chest. "Baby, hang in there, this will be all over soon."

I lay the side of my face against his beating heart, and to my astonishment, it's racing. "No. It won't. The inevitable is here…"

He kisses my hair. "Well, at least I'll feel more comfortable with you in Seattle, I can better protect you at Escala."

My head lifts. "You mean, hide me away. Christian, I don't want to spend my summer in a gilded gage." I spy Luke, his expression is unchanged, but his eyes are mirroring my sentiments.

Christian palms the side of my head, resting it back on his chest. "Anastasia this isn't a coordinated effort to kidnap you, it's a security measure," he mutters. Then inexplicably he starts sliding the twisty down my pigtail.

My shoulders bunch. "What are you doing?"

"Since you were photographed with a pigtail, out of an abundance of caution we agreed that you should go without one for a while."


Monday.

I prepare to have my group's eyes on me when I enter the lecture hall. My relationship with my team was already strained, the ordeal with Christian did nothing to strengthen it. It drove them to exile me further, and while the identity of the girl in the grainy photo is a mystery to most, it is well known to them- a stark reminder of the ugly episode.

The end of this part of my college career is winding down, and I'm finding myself more sentimental about it than I'd thought I would be. But I can't wait for this portion to be over. The pretending was driving all of crazy. So, sucking it up, I march inside the lectern and join my team to await our turn.

Our presentation goes off without a hitch, garnering us all rave reviews; however, the professor singled me out for extra praise garnering me eye rolls. I didn't have to be a mind reader, one to a man, it is evident they all think Christian not only helped me, but he also wrote it.

Channeling Oprah, I get in touch with my enlighten self, and individually I tell each person good bye. Paul Clayton is the only whose shows some Grace. "So, this is it," he says.

"Yes. This is it."

"Sorry, I missed you at work. I didn't realize Sunday would be your last day." Audibly I sigh. "Considering everything that has transpired, I probably shouldn't ask, but did the photo have anything to do with you quitting so suddenly."

"Paul Clayton." I touch his hand. "Thank you for continuing to be a friend."

He smiles. "I guess I have my answer." The smiles fade. "It wasn't hard, my only regret it wasn't so much more. But you did good kid."

Stifling my tears, I give him a tight smile, and turning away from him I hurry out of the hall. Crouch behind the nearest pillar and I unleash.

My shadow is hovering over me. "Hey, what's wrong?" Luke, says.

"It's hitting me like a ton of bricks. My school days are coming to an end."

He offers me his hand. "Let's get you in the car before someone spots you." Tugging my hand, he helps me stand upright. "This is just the beginning for you. You have so much more ahead of you- more schooling, a new boyfriend, the possibilities are endless," he says, escorting me to the underground garage.

"I know," I blubber.

Circling his arms around me, Luke stares me to the SUV, instead of my Beetle. "Get in."

I swivel my head. "I'm driving."

He laughs. "No." Acquiescing I slide behind the wheel, Luke slams the door, and rushing around the SUV, he slips into the passenger seat.'

Leaning across the console, he rubs his thumbs along my cheeks. "I thought, we'd sit here until you didn't feel like crying anymore." Retracting his arm, he pops the collar on his polo shirt. Part of his casual ensemble to help him better blend in on campus. "Anastasia, huh, he's got billions, she's worth zillions," he starts rapping, and through my tears, I howl,

"You're such a goof ball," I sniffle. "I'm just not sure Kanye would approve, and Christian is going to double his royalties."

Digging in the pocket of his khakis, Luke fishes out his cell phone. "That's why I stay prepared." Plopping the phone down on the console, he allows the intro from 8 miles to fill the interior. Even if you don't like the lyrics, you can't help but bob your head to the dope beat.

Closing my eyes, I let the rhythm suffocate the sadness. "I'm starting to feel better already," I murmur, and my eyes open.

Resting his elbow on the console, Luke motions for my hand. "Because you know you get one chance to blow," he raps.

His silliness is contagious. I can't hold onto the melancholy any longer - I join in. I'm offbeat, out of tune, but none of it matters. Happily, we bob our heads, exaggeratedly gesticulate our arms, and rap to the tip of our voices until at same time our phones beep interrupting the zaniness.

I glance at mine. "Christian," I say.

"T," Luke says.

The phones glued to our ears, we sit back and listen intently to our one -sided conversations. Simultaneously, we disconnect and swiveling our heads our eyes meet. "What did he say?" I inquire.

"Where the hell are you."

"What did Grey say?"

"Where the hell are you," I say, and we burst into laughter.

I take a parade route through campus fondly recalling my first day. Sadly, most likely this will be my last time on the site of WSU before graduation. Stopping at the traffic light, in my rearview I reminiscence one final time, and giving Luke a knowing glance I hit my signal and turn to the right. Once on the main road, I pick up cruising speed, and soon we're easing up to my apartment. As part of the new security protocol, Christian checked out of his suite, at the Heathman, and spent the night with me so I park behind the SUV.

Luke opens my door, and as we walk we coach each other, or more like offering each other support ahead of our tongue lashing. But if was for not, Christian and Mr. Taylor are in good spirits when we entered the apartment.

"Baby," Christian says, and handing my things to Luke I rush into his open arms.

"I'm sorry we're late. I got a little verklempt," I offer.

"Why? Your professor disliked the reports?"

I break his embrace. "Nothing like that. We got great reviews on our presentation, especially mine."

"Okay. Taylor has everything packed and loaded. Do you want to do a last minute check?"

"Nope. If I'm missing anything, Kate can mail it."

His arm forms a half-circle at his. "Very well, let's hit the road." I stick my hand through it, and he escorts me to the car. Mr. Taylor locks up the apartment, and Luke gets inside his SUV. "We're alone you want to tell me what's bothering you."

"Just emotional. This marks an end of an era."

"Don't view it through a negative prism, see it as the beginning of a new adventure. I don't want to give too much of my speech away, but this is the beginning of the rest of your life."

I giggle. "Don't give up your day job. If that's part of your speech Mr. Grey, your devoted fans will be sorely disappointed."

"Not soaring enough?"

Scrunching up my mouth, I shake my head. "Not even close. Corny is the right adjective, the only thing missing- this is the first day."

Mr. Taylor slips behind the wheel. "So what's the status of the press?" Christian inquires.

He peeks in the rearview mirror at Christian. "Some media is still lurking around the Heathman-"

"Then it's smart that you moved out," I say.

"Every now, and again I prove that I'm more than a pretty face."

I rub the back of my knuckles along his jawline. "Don't knock a pretty face."

"Since it's the only one I have; I'll have to suffer with it."

I smile. "Everyone warned me."

"About what?"

Burying the side of my head in the leather, I stare at him. "For you, this is a way of life. I'm a simple girl, with a simple existence, that's about to change."

He plants feathers kisses on the back of my hand. "Hang in there with me, I'll protect you from those vultures."

"I will, I just need to adjust. Everything is happening at once. Graduation, moving to Seattle, our eminent exposure. Give me some time. My timeline for these events was different."

"How different."

"For one, I thought I would've had time to hang out with Kate. Or just savor my accomplishments. You attended Harvard, I don't have to tell you, how rigorous their classes are. The doctoral program promises to be even more daunting."

"Baby you'll ace that program; I have faith in you. In the meantime, let's put your linguist skills to use. You can help me add some sparkle to my speech," he mocks.

"You sir will be just fine," I say. ""Thank you for saying what you said. It's good to know I have your support. For so long, you've been harping about me leaving I didn't think you wanted me to pursue another degree."

"Don't ever doubt my support for you. That was covetousness I want you near me all the time. But I would never stand in the way. Yes, I wished you'd chosen a closer school-"

"You realize I made my selection before you. Right."

He strokes my thigh. "Yes, I do. and don't worry about me, I'm working on a plan where we can be together."

"You're not moving to Boston are you?"

He chuckles. "Let's get something straight, I maybe an Ogres, but Ogres have feelings too."

I snicker. "So, which Ogre are you?"

Christian winces. "I didn't know, there was a choice?'

"Well, Shrek is the most famous."

"Shrek it is then, but somehow you've missed the point."

"I'm sorry." I twist in my seatbelt. "Go, ahead you have my attention."

"Too bad. Now I have performance anxiety."

"Performance anxiety, huh, strange choice of words for you."

"Smart Alec." He taps the tip of my nose. "Don't get any ideas, everything works just fine."

"Sensitive are we," I say, "by the way, I have a job interview.

His ears perk up. "That fast. With who.?

"Well, it's not an interview per se more like touching bases. I met the VP of HR, Elizabeth Morgan, at a job fair WSU hosted on campus. She was one of the representatives for Seattle Independent Publishing- "

"SIP. I'm familiar with them. The culture should be favorable for you, it's small."

"So, you approve."

"Well, they'll have to be vetted if you get the job."

"I'm not worried, the job is pretty much mine. Ms. Morgan liked me right away, she didn't hire me on the spot because of Harvard."

"So, you called her then."

"Actually, she saw my updated profile on linked In."

"Let me remind you, you don't have to work. I was planning on it. I was hoping to have you all to myself for the summer."

"Let me clarify, it's not a job, it's an internship-"

"Rude awakening, GEH is teeming with interns, and they work the hardest. Traditionally, it's for little or no pay. But I'm the exception-"

"Aren't you always."

"You and your smart mouth. Continue."

"That's all."

"When are you meeting her."

"Wednesday, but I won't start until after graduation."

He grabs my leg. "So, I'll have you all to myself for two weeks," he says, "what shall I do with you."

I run my tongue along my bottom lip. "I'm sure some ideas will come to you."

Gazing at me hauntingly, Christian leans across the seat unsnapping my seatbelt. "I'm glad you wore these pant," he says plucking the elastic waistband of my sweats snapping it against my skin.

"Mr. Taylor," I mouth.

"Taylor."

"Yes, Sir?"

"Do you have your earbuds and IPod?"

"Yes Sir, in my pocket."

"Use them."

"It's fixed," he murmurs.

Hustling closer, I whisper in his ear. "He can still see."

"I'd hope so, seeing that he's driving."

I swat his arm. "You know what I mean."

"Yes, I do," he says snaking his hand inside the waistband of my pants, "but here's the thing he works for me. He doesn't see anything I don't want him to see. I only had him add the earbuds to appease you." As he talks, Christian wiggles his fingers inside my panties, and then he plunges one deep inside me.

"Aha." My voice catches on a moan, and digging my fingers into the supple leather, I throw my head back.

He pulls his index finger out of me and flicks my clit. "This should help take some of the edges off," he murmurs, as his fingers glide over the slick nub. "You're so wet. I want to take out my dick, set you on top and let you ride me until we reach Seattle. Would you like that Anastasia?"

"Yesses."

"What about Mr. Taylor." He mocks me, as he masterfully manipulates the erogenous zone at the tip of my clit, by rubbing the pad of his finger back and forth.

"I don't care," I moan.

"You dirty girl. You want to come?"

"Oh yes."

"You're ready to come aren't you?"

"Yesses," I cry out, and Christian yanks his hand out of my pants.

"Huh."

He grips my chin between his forefinger and thumb. My scent is on them, and I imagine my juices glistening on each. "No one gets to see or hear you come. That's only for me."

I close my eyes and quickly reopen them. "You're cruel. What about the dumb speech?"

His fingers fall away, and Christian smooths tendrils over my face, absorbing the beads of sweat forming. "I changed my mind." He smirks.

"Okay." I shift in the seat, and he grabs my arm.

"I will fuck you properly, in my bed when we get home," he says, and he paints my lips with my essence. "Suck." My lips part and he push the fingers through. "That's my girl. You like it?"

"Mm mm," I moan.

He extracts his fingers. "That's enough," he says, and he pats me on my thighs. "Come on let me help you with your seatbelt." The buckle clicks, and he leans forward tapping Mr. Taylor on his shoulder.

He sits back, and I lean in. "I need to go to a drugstore."

"Why, I'll have Taylor get you what you need when we get to Seattle."

"Christian."

"If it's feminine hygiene products, I'll have Gail get it."

"I'm sorry, but there are some things I'd like to do for myself, and this is one of them."

"Anastasia, why now, your period isn't due for a few days." I gasp. "Don't be so surprise. I know your body. Externally I know the feel of your skin and every dip of your curves. Internally, I know when your period begins and ends."

Audibly I sigh. "Then humor me. Let me salvage some of my dignity."

"Taylor, did you hear that?"

"Oh, God." Grumbling, I smack the heel of my hand on my forehead "kill me now." Christian smirks.

"Yes, sir there's a drugstore at the next exit. It's a sleepy little town, so we shouldn't have a problem with paparazzi or nosey neighbors."

We roll into a parking space in front of the quaint storefront. Luke pulls in next to us, and for some reason, he's the one that gets out to open our door. "You're not going in with me.?" Christian wiggles his brows and grabs my hand. "Dignity remember."

"I'll let you pay for it."

My hand locked in his, I roll my eyes as he lugs me out of the car. Hand in hand, like a normal couple we stroll through the automatic doors. When we cross the threshold, Christian freezes. "You can get what you need. I'll browse. It's been a long time since I've been in one of these."

"A store." He wiggles his eyebrows. "It was too easy, I couldn't resist," I snort. Standing on my tiptoes, I give him a chaste peck on the cheek for good measure, and he releases my hand.

I wait for him to disappear. Go straight to isle I need, pluck my selection from the shelf, pay for it, and then go in search of him. "You're done?"

"Yep."

"I'm not. Maybe, you can help me," he says shimming a package from the rack. "What do you think of these?"

"Cable ties?"

"You know what they are?"

"I've spent the past 4 years working in a hardware store. So yes. But, why do you need them you don't do your repairs? The heaviest thing you move is a coffee mug."

"You and your smart mouth." He smacks my butte with the packet. "Open your mind. Imagine the possibilities," he rasps in my ear licking the shell.

I pluck another packet from the rack slapping it against his abdomen. "Here get two."

After an interesting trip to the drugstore, we drive nonstop to Seattle. Mrs. Jones has an early dinner waiting for us but, Christian has her save it for later, and he hauls me directly to the bedroom. And despite talks of restraints, and gags, true to his words Christian made love to me properly. It was quiet, it was sweet, and it tenders he never veered to the dark side. The cable ties did not make their debut. Knowing his psyche, he was most likely feeling guilty about the rough play from the other night, and the bruises it left behind.


Tuesday.

Gripping the edge of the counter top, gradually I descend to the floor. Slumping against the cabinet, I stretch my legs out along the warm marble floor and staring at my hands my mind swims. The first time I saw the sonogram. The first flutter in my stomach that I loving referred to as a ballet kick. The first time I heard the words, I'm sorry followed by I can't find a heartbeat. All the firsts that are indelible marks in my brain, heart, and soul that I can't escape. Then I consider the possibilities, the darkness filling my depth lifts, and my spirit soars.

My heart dissolving to my toes, the object of my fixation slips out of my hand, and my body shakes uncontrollably. "Anastasia." I hear. "Where are you, Gail said you were in here." Pressing the back of my head into the wood, I sit paralyzed as he disturbs my moment of silence. "Gail said she hadn't seen you for a while." His words reverberate in my ear, as the consternation in his voice grows. He nears my de facto hiding place,and I try to suffocate my sobs, but one breaks through. The door flies back, and Christian's eyes lock with mine. "Baby."

I hiccup. "What are you doing here, I thought you were at work."

Strolling further into the bathroom, he sizes me up. "You were still morose when I left this morning so I came home early. I thought I'd cheer you up." He runs his hand through his hair. "Take you to the Grace for lunch, stay for dinner, maybe even sleep over." He stoops. "Anastasia, why are you crying? Why are you so sad? What's wrong. Baby, talk to me," he says, and terror flashes in his eyes. "Is that what I think it is?

My head bobbles. "Yes," I sniffle.

"Fuck." Christian rakes his hand through his hair tugging on a handful. "Not again, Anastasia," he snarls. Extending his hand, he grabs the wand from where it lays on the floor at my fingertips, and he stands to his full height. "How the fuck, could you let this happen?" Glowering at me, he waves the stick in the air. "This is what you picked up at the drugstore." I nod. "Use your fucking words. And stop with the water works and answer me." The veins on the sides of his head, and neck bulge, he's so furious.

"Yes." I dug deep for a substantial response that would rise to the level of his heated rhetoric and spirited tone, but I squandered the opening he lobbed my way. My one-word reply is inconsequential, not to mention my voice shook when I delivered it.

"Damn." Hoisting his hands to his waist, Christian tilts his head back. The white stick protrudes from his hand taunting me, stabbing me in the chest with dreams of what might have been like it is a poison epee. "I can't believe you let this happen again. You've ruined everything."

As his acrimony drifts into vitriolic discourse, it becomes impossible for me to deny the echoes of the past. The tears dwindle, and I have an unobstructed view. "That's the second time, you've intimated that somehow I'm the only one to blame?" This time, I'm deliberate and concise in my delivery.

His head had jerked forward. He swallows, and lowers his gaze discerning the impetus for the swift change in my attitude. "You know what I meant. This wasn't on our radar."

I press my palms into the marble tile for moral support. "Why not. We have sex like bunnies-"

"That's the rub Anastasia, were not cute furry creatures bred to stock little Johnny's, and Susie's Easter baskets, we're human beings with money and access to every birth control method imaginable-"

"A rubber being one," I blurt out, "You should try it. That's if you get another chance."

His lips form into a hardline. "Don't be a flame thrower if you're afraid of fire," he spits out. "You're right, I share blame. I trusted you with the birth control."

"Trusted me." My breath hitches, on a small intake of air. "As if you had a choice. It's my body. Ultimately what I do with it is my choice. Your claims of knowing every inch of it are great fonder for the bedroom, but outside of it is stale, and sexist. We don't have one of those contracts that list you as lord over my body. This relationship isn't lopsided, you can have a say, but you don't get the say."

Sighing heavily, Christian raises the wand to in front of his eyes. "Wait." He goggles at the implement, pans to me, and back at the wand. "This has a line. You're not pregnant." It doesn't take long for the smile dancing on his lips to emblazoned his whole face. "Why are you crying. Why are we having this discussion? We're not pregnant. It's a good thing." The white stick clatters against the hard shiny surface, as he scrambles to sink to the floor next to me. "Baby, this is good news." He's glowing with excitement, the corners of his eyes are crinkling.

His tone deafness is unreal, the tears start flowing again. "I wanted to be pregnant," I sob.

Christian blanches. "I need an explanation. My head is swirling with all sorts of notions, and none of them are good. "

"Christian I'm empty inside." My trembling fingers curl, pounding the middle of my chest. "I have been since our baby died. And I can't fill the black hole." My head lolls to the side, and the water flows out the corners of eyes drenching his jacket.

Christian wedges his arm behind my back, and he cradles my head to his shoulder. The mean spiritedness notwithstanding, he feels good. "I thought you said, you were okay, and didn't need counseling."

I simper. "The straight line materialized, and the loss of our baby was fresh..." My head eases up, nudging his hand out of the way and I peer into his gray eyes. The elation has tempered some. "The pain was immediate and jarring. To me, it was a gift. Another chance to bring a life into this world. A boy or girl with your intense gray eyes, and steely façade hiding a tenderness waiting to explode."

His free arm crosses in front of his chest, and affectionately Christian wipes tears from my face. "Baby." He rubs his thump, on my cheeks, and he drops his hand. "I don't want to seem insensitive, but let me state the obvious. Pregnancy is a tremendous responsibility. A life time of commitment. It's not a do over, or a sab to lessen old traumas."

I have a visceral reaction to his ridiculous assertion. I stare at him askance. "You're an ass!"

He strokes my arm."Anastasia."

I flinch. "Don't." Exhaling, eh extracts his arm. "I'm hurting, not mental. Go ahead. Hurl cruel insults at me, but you can't shape it to fit your narrative. I didn't plan it. It wasn't until the possibility arose that I allowed myself to believe in the likelihood of another pregnancy, and it wasn't until a negative test proclaimed I wasn't that it hit me - how badly I wanted to be pregnant.'

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to infer that you had a mental illness. I'm not good at this Anastasia. It's not my thing."

"It's not that hard Christian. If your words abandon you, listen. It's in the quiet moments that I feel the closest to you. Right now we're touching, I'm staring into your eyes, I can hear you breathing..." He covers my hand, and I drag it back. "Yet, I'm so detached from you."

"Wow." His head sags, and propping his knee up, he drapes his arm on it. "So, how long had you suspected it? I don't recall you missing a period."

"Yesterday, when I threw up. Then I started tabulating all the emotional surges of late, and I put two and two together. Unfortunately, it didn't add up to four."

He angles his head up. "I've inserted my foot into my mouth already, but here's the thing Anastasia. I'm not going to lie to you. Like you, every day I struggle with your miscarriage and harbor the added guilt of not being present, but unlike you, I'm not anxious for another shot at fatherhood."

"That was evident, by the unadulterated glee when you discovered the truth."

"Remove the emotional attachment to losing the baby, and think rationally. You have the rest of your life ahead of you - grad school, a new job. Me."

"I'd trade all of it to bring a life into this world. To be a mom." Christian's leg shoots out, and his arm falls to his side. "I was where you are once. Considering my retched childhood, I swore I would never have children, and a strange and beautiful transformation occurred for me when that little seed started growing inside my belly."

"You included me. Did you mean it? You'd sacrifice me, for a baby?"

"Christian didn't you hear me. I don't want any baby; I want to be a mom to your child. Our baby."

The sparkle returns to his eyes. "If I could experience the miracle of life growing inside me, perhaps I'd go through the same metamorphoses. But it's not humanely possible." He cups the side of my face. "So, I'm left in this space. I don't want a baby. I want to show you the world."

I knock his hand away. "I need some air." Reality grips me by the throat. Bit by bit, he's dismantled the illusion I'd erected to bolster our relationship.

I storm out of the bathroom, and Christian follows. "Where are you going?"

"For a run." I have to flee the staleness that's choking me.

"Give me a moment to change." Trailing me inside the huge walk-in closet, he starts undoing his tie.

"No." Squatting, I choose the first pair of running shoes my hand touches. "I don't want you to come with me. I need to be alone," I say bringing my selection with me as I straighten up.

Anchored in the doorway, Christian raises his arm above his head resting his elbow against the frame. "Anastasia, that's not an option. Particularly in this environment."

"I know, Christian."

He snorts. "Guess. I'll call Luke."

"Luke, Mr. Taylor, Reynolds." I bump his chest. "I don't give a damn." Shocked by my language, Christian steps aside.

"What I hear is, anybody but me."

I plop down on the edge of the bed hard. The firm mattress has to dip. "My words don't need interpretation, I told you as much." Slipping on the sneakers, I tie them as Christian warily observes me. Setting my feet on the floor, I stare at him. "You don't get it. Words matter, but actions matter more. You failed. A second chance to do better was thrown at your feet, and you trampled all over it. If I had been pregnant, you were prepared to revert to the same madness."

His expression sobers. "I have a stretch of property on the outskirts of town. It's secluded. I'll call Luke and have him take you there."

"Thank you." I stand up. "I'll wait in the living room." Brushing past his arm, I strut out of the bedroom. My frostiness rendered my platitude, just as empty as his words. And if his expression is any indication, I can take solace in knowing he knows it too.

After sometime driving, Luke parks near a tree in front of a meadow. I press my nose against the window, and stare in wide eyed amazement at the sprawling field, and it's idyllic charm. It is brimming with every wild flower imaginable, in every hue imaginable. Each color is as vivid as the next, the intensity so vibrant their beauty doesn't appear real. More like an oil painting from one of the masters, or if you're a common folk like me, an offering from the painter of light himself, Thomas Kincaid.

The door opens, and Luke pokes his head inside. "So are you going to talk to me?" Peeling my nose from the glass, I rotate my head.

We slouch against the hood of the SUV. "It's so tranquil out here," I say.

Luke's head darts to the sky. "Yes, it is" It drops, and his attention returns to me. "But small talk wasn't what I had in mind."

"I took a pregnancy test-"

"I knew it." Fisting his hand, Luke punches his elbow back. "Yes. You're pregnant." His jubilation outclasses Christian's putrid reaction."

"I wish Christian shared your enthusiasm." Bowing my head, I trace figures in the dirt with my foot. "I'm not pregnant. The test was negative."

"What! Oh, Ana." Luke wraps his arms around me, and with my eyes welling with tears, I rest the side if of my head against his chest. "That's why you needed to escape," he murmurs against my hair.

"Why can't he half of your humanity, and why do you get me, and he doesn't?" I whimper.

He clutches me tighter. "I don't know. Sometimes, I think it's because you let your guard down with me." He releases me. "Look at me. I'm not in his shoes, so I can't begin to expound upon what he's feeling. But from what I know of Grey, his chilly response to you isn't personal, it's who he is."

I throw my hands in the air. "'It's who he is,' that's always the answer. As if it excuses all his bad behavior?"

Luke gives me a half shrug. "Don't get mad at me."

"He doesn't want children."

"So. That's not new news."

"But, I want children someday."

"And. That's not a Grey's problem, that's an Ana's issue-"

I snort. "Here I thought you were on my side."

"Just because I have a different viewpoint, doesn't mean I'm not on your side. I'm your friend, and what's our creed?"

"The truth always."

"What's the quote you're always spouting from Maya Angelou?"

"There are many, but I think you're referring to When people tell you who they are believe them."

"Yeah, that's it. But if my memory is right, you left off a key phrase, 'The first time'," he pauses. "To paraphrase, Jack Nicholson, you want the truth, but you can't handle it."

Breathing in the fresh air, my eyes wander over every inch of the meadow. "This place has an enchanted garden vibe."

"Well, your boyfriend spent a fortunate on experts who worked with nature, to transform the space into his private oasis. That's why it's so safe. It's not even on Google maps."

"The property is so atypical to his tyrannical personality."

"Perhaps, you don't get him." I roll my eyes. "Your changing the subject."

"I'm talked out Luke."

"Just one more thing. I tip my hat to him. It must be killing him denying you something, he lives to give you the world."

"I don't want the world, Luke."

He holds out his hand. "Let me have your sweat shirt. I'm sitting this one out. You need to sort your shit out, and you can't do it with me breathing next to you."

"It's scary, how tuned in you are to me?" I unzip and hand him my hoodie.

Luke rolls his eyes and points in the distance. "See that tree?"

"Yes. How long has he had this land? Today is the first I've heard of it."

"Since before I came to work for him."

"Do you know what his ultimate plans are for it?"

"Nope. Never asked, and don't care. He will run here when he needs a great escape from the hustle, and bustle of the city or when he has some heavy shit weighing on his mind. Like when unbeknownst to me he was going through the crap with you."

"Really."

"Settle down, it was just an inside thought, that I let out. Anyways, to the tree and back. Roughly four miles. You can't see it from here, but there's a stream next to it. Take a moment to enjoy it. "

"I'll take that under advisement," I say, getting into running position.

"So what do you have on your playlist, old school rap, gangster rap, or the new school stuff?"

"None of the above. Today is a Breakeven, Jars of heart, and Say Something kinda day."

"Snap. That broody shit. You're going to be suicidal by the time you make it back."

Shrugging him off, I put my first foot forward. Soon as my feet make contact with the dirt, I shed some of the stress. Calm replacing it with every stride. The trail is littered with a hodge-podge of nature's little bounty; sticks, pebbles, the changing leaves. The crackling under my feet compared to the noise generated when I pound the pavement of the city is more soothing.

The faster I run the further Luke fades into the background, and I relish in the absolute solitude. I haven't had it since reuniting with Christian, and it is heavenly. So, I unplug from the world, stuffing my earbuds inside the armband with my phone, and I surrender to the Spring air crashing into my face. Respecting the production value of the music from mother nature I hear not listen to the trees rustling in the wind, the birds twittering as they make intricate patterns above me, and my feet connecting with a forgiving earth.

Arriving at the tree, I savor the fragrant smell of Spring wafting through my nostrils. Humbling myself, I lean on the indestructible trunk, and I appreciate all that has been given to me. Harking back to a time when my life was simpler but no less troubled, I recall the many nights on the streets, the endless parade of new families, and the wish for a love I never thought possible. Reclining, I listen to the steady trickle of water in the nearby stream, and in it, I hear myself crying out to the universe, then explicably my head pops up. I admire the clouds floating in the sky, the powerful radiance of the branches hovering over me, and I have the universe's response.

I push off the tree, and I sprint down the path. As I close in, I slow, and I trot to Luke. "Take me home," I pant.

"Here." He hands me a hand towel. "Wipe your face first."

"Thanks." Scrubbing my face, I duck under his arm and slide inside the back of the SUV.

He snatches the cloth out of my hand. "There are clean ones next to you."

"Do you guys think of everything."

"The boss's motto, be prepared." The door starts easing to its close position.

Gripping the headrest, I sit forward. "That's the boy scout's motto." He pauses. "And I doubt any of you were boy scouts," I shout and chuckling Luke lets the door slam.

The ride back to the city is long. And Luke in his infinite wisdom doesn't try to engage me in witty chatter, or some deep philosophical thinking, or car Karaoke, he stays silent, and I'm grateful. It gives my fragmented thoughts time to solidify, and as a plan formulates in my mind, I recline back in the seat, to enjoy the silence.

The car swerves jostling me out of the light sleep I didn't realize I'd fallen into. I blink wildly, and when I have my wits about me, I grip the door handle. Luke wheels into one of the myriads of parking slots designated for Christian, and soon as he cuts the engine, I leap from the back.

Crossing the concrete, I prep my ears for a sharp rebuke, that never comes. Right on time, the elevator doors ping open, and I scramble inside. When they reopen, I float out into his foyer.

"Miss Steele you're home."

"Hi, Gail," I chirp. "Where's Christian?"

A smile is covering her entire face. "Mr. Grey's in his office."

"Thank you." Humming, I round the corner and skip down the hallway. Faltering at the door, I gather my nerves. Not because I'm undecided, I'm resolute in my decision, it's his that has me wavering. Taking a leap of faith, I grasp the knob and thrust the door back.

Christian's head flies up. "Anastasia." His chair rolls back from the desk.

"Stay." Unintentionally my request comes across like a command to rover. Christian can't help but smile, and it melts away some of the frostiness between us.

He's changed out of his suit and is dressed very leisurely in a white t-shirt. I'm treated with a taste of his bare feet, peeking from under the desk, and mesmerized by the sight, I push off the door frame, and rush into the room. Skimming the tips of my fingernails along the edges of his desk, I launch myself at him and landing in his jean clad lap, I take his face into my hands. "I love you."

He clasps his hands to my waist. "I love you too," he whispers, "you're not mad at me."

"I am." I drop my hands. "But it doesn't supplant my love for you. We have talking to do, you have lots of apologizing, but right now I want to focus on us."

"Music to my ears. I wasn't sure you were coming back."

"When I left I wasn't sure either. I was so in my head; I'd taken for granted what was in front of me."

"What's that?"

"You." Christian closes his eyes, and when the lids peel back, they're glossy. I can't discern if they're misty, or it's the glare of the light.

"Your propensity to forgive me is unbelievable," he mutters.

"I haven't forgiven you, Christian. I've adjusted my expectations."

"Higher, or lower."

"Let's just say, my head's out of the clouds. The other night we'd promised to talk things through things, and at the first major conflict, I ran. But here's what I know for sure, I'd rather weather the craziness with you than work it out on my own."

Christian lays his head on my chest. "Are you sure you don't want to talk to Flynn?" He whispers against my still damp workout clothes. "Not just about the baby, but me too."

I press his head to my chest. "I'm sure. Kiss me."

"Gladly." Lifting his head, he cups me by the nape tipping my head down, and he rims my lips with the tip of his tongue, before slipping it inside my mouth. Our tongues curl over each other, as his head bobs, and mine struggles too.

His grip loosens, and I push back. "Confession, I could never walk away from this," I murmur against his lips.

Releasing my neck, Christian helps me stand, and following suit, he extends his hand to me. "Come. Let's shower."

"I stink."

Swiveling his head, he wiggles his brow. "There's more to do in a shower than washing." Elongating his strides, he gets us to the bedroom in zero time flat, where he quickly disrobes me then himself. Lugging me into the bathroom, he positions me by the enclosure, while he gets the water to his desired temperature. To test it, he enters the shower first, then offers me his hand.

"Thank you." Joining him under the down pour, I bask in the warmth of the water. "Hmm, this feels good."

"Stay still, let me wash you." Bracing my palms against the tiled wall, I anticipate his touch, and it's worth the anticipation. His lathered hands glide over every inch of my skin, my bottom, the crack of my ass, and his favorite place- between my thighs. A lofty moan escapes me when he slides the edge of his hand back and forth over my slit igniting the bundle of nerves.

Planting his broad chest against my back, Christian tugs on my hair pulling my head back to him. "Now tell me." He pulls my hair tauter. "Do you want me to use a condom when I fuck you." Huskily he whispers in my ear. His breath mixed with the steam gushes hot on my skin, and combined with his domineering tone, it's a heady concoction.

"No," I pant, "I want the sensation of you in me."

"That's my girl." Loosening his grip, Christian gives my head a gentle shove and using his foot he widens my stance. Then, the large head of his cock prods the slit in my ass, pushing through to the rim of the tiny hole. I flinch, and he leans into me. "Just a little baby. Is that alright."

I bite my bottom lip. "Yes," I murmur but to myself, I think that it's as far it will go. I'd gotten used to the unforbidden sex act with Luke, but Christian's penis is on a whole different level. Memories of the last time he took me in this way swirl in my head. It was violent, and painful but then was a different era for us - I was a conquest, now I'm his sole inspiration. "Uh," I cry out as his erection breeches the tiny opening.

"Fuck me," Christian grunts, and he stills. "Relax baby. I won't hurt you. This is about pleasure, not pain." Coaxing me, he slides in about another inch and stops. "You feel so good; I'm just going to live here." The burning pain, morphing into burning desire I inch back on his throbbing cock. "Fuck Anastasia you're going to make me lose control," Christian screams, and he pulls his erection out of one orifice driving it into another.

My body jerks, as the force, pushes into Carrera tile. "Oh Christian," I purr. Gripping my shoulders, relentlessly he pounds into me as the water rains over us. True to who he is, I'm sure this is a punishment fuck, but it feels so good, I surrender and give him his vengeance. Tomorrow I'll exact mine.