CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

IN TOO DEEP

"This is definitely the life," I mutter with a peaceful sigh as I use my spoon to dig into the third course of our meal, the strawberry cheesecake. I had probably seven oysters altogether, and a large plate of vegetables and crispy-skinned salmon and I feel full as a boot. Despite that, apparently I'm not full enough not to indulge in the dessert. I scoop a large chunk of it into my mouth, the creamy cheesecake melting onto my tongue. It isn't overly sweet, just perfect, with a tangy tart hint of strawberry flavor. The cheesecake is every bit as delicious as the oysters and the salmon had been earlier.

"I know what you mean," Christian murmurs appreciatively from his space on the floor right next to me. We're both leaning against the couch with our backs, our legs stretched out comfortably on the carpet as we eat, first course and second courses trays and empty dirty plates messily sprawled out near us. "This is the life, isn't it?"

I make my mistake in peering over at him while he eats. He pops his spoon of sliced cheesecake into his mouth, sucking it off noiselessly. Then he meets my gaze as he swallows it down, savoring the taste. My cheeks are hit with heat as he licks his lips. Like usual, the man even just simply innocently eating something... damn. Is there some kind of word or fetish for this sort of thing? Because I definitely do believe I have issues considering how much I seem to get-off on watching him eat...

Deliberately, I drop my eyes back down to my plate while trying to ignore that pesky heat that has engulfed my entire face. The fullness of my stomach has become unbearably painful, it occurs to me. Sadly I don't think I will be able to polish all of the cheesecake off, no matter how delicious it tastes. Maybe it won't go bad if I leave it in the room for later?

"I don't think I can eat anymore of this or fit anymore of it in," I say honestly, dropping my spoon on my plate. "It's delicious but I might save the rest for later."

"Ana, that's fine. I won't force you to eat it. Do whatever you want."

I nod while placing my plate down near the others while licking the crumbs off my lips, shifting slightly and propping my head up with an elbow on the couch and the side of my face resting on my hand to make myself more comfortable while I watch him quietly. Apparently he isn't having any trouble with feeling too full.

He still eats happily, scraping cheesecake base crumbs off his plate greedily. I glance down at his feet and... feel surprised. Somehow I had missed the fact that he had removed his shoes and socks like I had. His feet are so much larger than mine, so much longer.

Almost immediately, I feel a strange shift come over me. A sort of playful, less serious mood. Now that we are here, all by ourselves, in his hotel room at the Heathman Lodge after essentially two incredibly long weeks away... I want to be playful, a little naughty and teasing. Otherwise what is the point of finally being here? Considering all the stress and turmoil I have felt the past two weeks, all the anxiety and mental stress from starting college, all the anguish over missing him... I think it's what I need the most. It feels way long overdue.

I get an idea. Trying to be subtle about it, I drag my left foot closer to his right one, my heel scraping gently against the carpet while analyzing his face closely as he chews. He seems too preoccupied with demolishing his cheesecake so... when I do it, I don't think he knows what to think. I manage to tap my little toe over his, then I move away quickly, gauging his reaction.

I have to cover my hand over my mouth to stop myself from grinning visibly as he lifts his gaze to look over at me, his eyes narrowed. I wait for him to say something, to ask what I am doing even, only... to my disappointment, he just glances back down at his half-eaten plate of cheesecake.

Damn, apparently I was being a little too subtle. Maybe he assumed it was accidental?

It's probably childish of me, I know, but I can't seem to care. Eyes on nothing else but the side of his face and the way his jaw moves as he swallows and eats, I do it again, bringing my foot over. I cover and stroke my toes over his in a very thorough, very obvious way. Then I move my foot a distance away again, watching his reaction, amusement darting through me wildly. He doesn't look at me this time, but I notice he stills every time I do it; His jaw pausing from chewing, his body going completely still. I do it again this time, only I lift up with my leg completely off the ground, dropping it over his trouser-clad shin heavily.

Then before I become too shy, I lift my leg up a little, bending my knee back, until I lay my entire foot on his trouser leg. The cloth feels warm and silky on my toes, probably from his body heat. He simply shifts slightly on the couch and crosses one ankle over the other so that he can see me better, his body angled and mirroring mine and, luckily for me, the position makes things that much easier. Things become a bit more... accessible.

Although my entire face feels like it's on fire and my heart rate feels spiked, I finally do it before I lose my courage, going even further than what I first intended to do with him. Pulling my knee back, I push and toe my foot up his leg until it meets that place directly in the center of his crotch.

I wiggle my toes a little there, feeling the cold metal of his zipper and fly against them. It's then it occurs to me belatedly. I hear him then. How louder his breathing has become. How unsteady and harder.

"Anastasia," he finally speaks as his spoon clatters loudly onto his plate that he holds with both hands. I feel like I can barely breath as I force myself to glance up at his face, trying to keep my expression blank so it gives nothing away. I arch my brows at him in question as I become aware of the heat of him that radiates through the fabric of his trousers straight to the pads of my toes. He's staring at me, something shining brightly in his eyes. His lips are parted, his chest heaving through the front of his shirt and collar as he inhales in and exhales out deeply. "Just what are you doing to me?"

I can barely contain the laugh that escapes me as I mutter beneath my breath, "Playing footsies."

"Playing foot-" He repeats, then stops himself at my words, his voice filled with sarcasm. I wiggle and move my toes again, and it's then he shuts his eyes tightly closed, his chin and head falling a little. I think I'm definitely succeeding in my mission right now. When he slowly reopens his eyes with a loud whoosh of air shakily drawn through his mouth, I know I have. "Funny." He eyes my foot from where it is, in his crotch, nudging against his privates playfully through the fabric, "I always assumed you played footsies by touching the other persons feet, not their crotch?"

"Well, maybe footsies was actually a miserable excuse and, really, I just found myself wanting to have a reason to touch your crotch?"

"So you admit to it." There's an edge there in his tone as he turns to put his plate down on the ground near his side. "You're doing it on purpose."

"Maybe," I murmur, while trying to sound anything but nervous. "Maybe I've grown bored with eating and I wish to do other things now?"

"Other things? Like what?" I think he already knows exactly what I have in mind, but he's torturing me by pretending he doesn't know. Either that or he knows I'm embarrassed.

"I think you already know exactly what I want, Mr Grey. No need to act coy."

"I think you are the one who is acting coy here, Anastasia, not me." Hmm, I guess he does have a point. Sort of. "So if you want it, you are going to have to come out and say it."

I can barely quit squirming beneath his gaze. Only something tells me that is exactly his purpose. "I think you already know what I want to do, without me even having to say it out loud to you."

Something glints in his eyes as he stares me down, the corners of his mouth lined with the hint of a suppressed smile. "Still. I want to hear you say it."

Oh, God. "Well, it begins with an S," I state shyly, realizing for the first time that I am literally panting. I hear my own breaths, and they are loud and unsteady. Matching his.

"Sleep?" He guesses, being deliberately evasive on what he knows I truly want, I think. It's frustrating. Obviously his intention.

"Um, no," I laugh, finding a new tactic. I deliberately let my gaze linger around the room. "I mean, we're here, in a hotel room. Just me and you. A hotel room that has a...a bed." Finally, I meet his gaze again, feeling my blood boiling on my skin. "I think you know sleeping is the very last thing that I want to use that bed for right now." I am not used to be direct or stating that I want sex, obviously. He's the only person I've slept with, so... of course I wouldn't really be all that clued-in on how to initiate it. But I find it's what I want right now. It's what I really, really want.

And I think it's what he wants right now as well. Unless I'm mistaken.

But then I burrow my toes into his crotch again, pressing down gently. He hisses loudly and breathes in deeply through his nose at the teasing contact. And it's then I feel him; That most intimate, warm part of him. It's straining against the seam of his trousers, rigid and poking into the middle of my foot. I hear my own breath alter and lengthen in response. I cannot lie that it sort of amazes and thrills me, how quick and capable I seem to be at arousing him. It's surprisingly more easier and funner than I thought.

"Does that make it a little clearer for you?" I manage as he turns his head to look at me again. "Can you tell what I mean now?"

I can tell he does. His face changes, slackens into a look I think I've come to know now since we first started doing this together as his 'turned-on', aroused look. It's probably the hottest look in the world, I think. Maybe even one of my favorites.

He doesn't answer verbally; He simply nods once while using his tongue to lick and moisten his lower lip. Then he surprises me by grabbing my foot, wrapping his fingers around my ankle. He gently pushes it away, setting my ankle back down on the ground. Then he rises to his feet and stands. He doesn't say anything else, but then he doesen't really need to as he reaches down, taking my hand, helping me up onto my feet. I think our intentions for what we want to do next have become extremely clear, on the pair of us.

He leads the way towards the separate bedroom in the master suite. He releases my hand to wander over to the bedside drawer near the bed, and he flicks on a lamp so that the room is bathed in a warm, mild yellow light. Even as he moves to hastily draw the pastel purple curtains closed in the bedroom I can hear his breathing is still uncontrolled and unsteady. Maybe just like mine pretty much is as I move towards the bed. I reach down at the end of it to run my hand over the silky cotton sheets. The bed is so much larger than the one I have at the campus apartment. I think it's even bigger than the one Christian has at his home himself.

I turn, sitting down on the edge of the mattress, my eyes finding Christian from where he stands, a length away from the bed after adjusting and properly shutting the curtains.

It feels like it's been so long since I have experienced this with him. His absence away for those whole two weeks during me being at and starting college, it has only seemed to intensify the need I have, all this need, this desire. There's a deep, hot burning cavity in my chest like fire- something that can only be extinguished once and for all that he's with me like this, properly touching me, properly kissing me. Being inside of me in the most intimate ways that two people can even properly be joined.

But first... that time in the recreation room comes back to me in flashes.

"You know that time we sneaked into your recreation room..." I begin nervously, flushing at the mere thought, clenching my hands anxiously into my lap.

"I think so." His voice is breathless, deeper, as he steps slowly towards where I am sitting on the bed. "What about it, Anastasia?"

"Well, I..." I hesitate, biting down on my lip. Is it wrong to ask? Rude even?

"What?"

"Well, I've thought about it. What you did to me and how, um, incredible it felt. I've been thinking of that a lot lately before I went to sleep at the apartment, and just how... amazing it was. And I... I think I want..."

"You want?" He drops to his knees in front of me, his breathes still quick and shallow.

"Well, um, I wouldn't mind..." But then I don't have to say it. He must sense the sheer embarrassment at me declaring what I want, what I wish for, because Christian smiles and takes me by the shoulders, pushing me backward gently until I'm completely resting on the long mattress. Oh.

He reaches for the waistband of my jeans and pops open the button without much encouragement, and I lift my head, wanting to watch him, wanting to watch everything he is going to be doing to me.

"I think I can work out a thing or two of just what it is that you want, Anastasia," he murmurs, his voice sounding deeper, strained, as he hooks his fingers into the front of my jeans.

Instinctively I sink my teeth into my bottom lip and inch up with my pelvis, helping him out on removing my pair of jeans easily. He wrenches them down past my ankles, getting my feet free, discarding them carelessly at his feet.

Then he licks his lips and moves over me again, grabbing onto the elastic of my panties with his fingers, peeling them down past my knees. I clench my eyes shut at the uncomfortable cold gushes of air in the room that hit me in that personal, private place as I feel him untangle my panties from my feet.

The mattress depresses a little and the springs give off a delicate croak as I reopen my eyes to find him resting a knee between my legs. He grasps onto my inner thighs, parting them as wide as they can go, then he grasps me by the ankles with his hands, lifting, guiding me to bend them so that my legs are comfortably parted on the mattress with my feet supporting them open. I'm fairly aware that I am quivering, quivering from my head to my toes with a curious mixture of both anticipation and nerves.

Using my arms, I lift them up above my head, grasping onto the sheets behind me for something to cling onto, fisting the cotton between my fingers as Christian sinks down onto the mattress, one elbow supporting him upright at my lower body, resting inches from my navel, while the other hand, he uses freely... lifting up the bottom of my shirt, tilting his head down, the tip of nose brushing against my skin. He begins kissing me, trailing his mouth around my navel, planting light but hot open-mouthed kissing over my belly button.

The feeling of his chin as he uses it to nuzzle against my belly, to create a sensation of prickliness with his stubble, it's incredible, the contrast of hot open-mouth kisses and stubble-chin grazes.

"Christian." The moan tears out between my teeth desperately, uncontrollably; It's like a new person has taken over, one completely consumed and possessed by sensation and anticipation and exhilaration. I cannot imagine anyone else having the potential to make me feel like he does, not ever. "Y-yes."

My legs close and clench around his sides as he slides even lower, still moving his mouth against me but not yet touching me where I want it the most. He's teasing me, torturing me. Filling me up with so much sensation, so much throbbing growing down there, intenser with every prolonged moment of him kissing me and working his way down every where but... right there.

My hands shake and gather another fistful of sheet as he somehow manages to slide down even lower, his mouth kissing just right there above my bikini line at the hairless skin there. One firmer kiss into the corner of my pelvis, another... the other corner. Then he grips each of my thighs, holding them... squeezing with his fingers while he suddenly goes straight there, showing me mercy, putting an end to all of my pining, my throbbing.

An instantaneous knee-jerk reaction causes me to arch my pelvis and shut my thighs as he finally unleashes his mouth on me, his moist, slippery tongue, down there. It's lucky that he has hard grip on my thighs otherwise I would succeeded in shutting them over his head, closing myself off from him. The points of his fingertips digging into my skin as he holds my legs parted, it stings and smarts, though not in a painful way. I feel like I'm going to potentially bruise later with delicious imprints of his fingers holding me pried open to him yet I cannot bring myself to truly care.

Everything- all embarrassment, all coherent thought- sails past my head as he applies his tongue, seemingly knowing all the perfect ways to make me feel the best. The top of his warm forehead rests against my pelvis, heating me as he lashes me with flicks and rubs of his tongue, strands of his hair tickling my belly.

"Oh... god, shit," I pant out, my eyes clenching closed, my body shaking. He's so good at this. Too good, in fact. "Christian!"

Uncurling my hands from the sheets as I tremble and shake, I reach down blindly, finding his head, his hair. I use my fingers, tenderly massaging his scalp, combing through the short strands as he starts rocking a little, the pleasure becoming almost unbearable by the way he moves, setting a fast, pulsing rhythm, thrusting into me down there. It doesn't take too long with the way he does it.

It builds, higher and higher, this amazing indescribable feeling. My heart starts pounding in my ears, a whoosh of air sending my ears gushing.

I moan and gasp loudly as it hits me, pounding into me, this carnal bliss, this excruciating pleasure. It sends a burst of flashing white-golden light beneath my closed eyelids as I orgasm, the feeling somehow more stronger than it was the first time he had done this to me in the recreation room.

"Oh, God," I murmur weakly, riding the wave along, my eyes still clenched tightly closed.

I feel the perspiration building between my armpits, the fabric of my shirt and bra, the faint glow of pleasantly exhausted heat as I breathe heavily. He only stops his assault once he knows for sure I've reached orgasm, and obviously he'd both sensed and heard me himself, because he lifts his head and stops as my fingers still compulsively and blindly grip his hair, my body trembling from little aftershocks.

I can only muster the energy to bring my eyes back open when my hands slip from his head, and he stands, the mattress moving. I blink down at him slowly while still regaining my breath, my eyes feeling heavy. I feel a little drugged- assuming this is how people feel when they take drugs or even drink. I feel lethargic, pleasantly blank of all and any thoughts or worries. There is just him and a hot, throbbing pulsing down there that still remains even after he did what he did for me.

All I can do is simply watch him, unable to move, literally paralyzed with pleasure on the bed as Christian stares down at me while unbuttoning his trousers. He steps out of his trousers while still breathing heavily and since I seem only capable of moving my eyes right now, I admire him, how long and muscular his thighs are, as he folds his trousers up neatly.

He drops the folded trousers on the floor. Then he removes his jacket, folds it, and turns back to gaze at me while unbuttoning his business shirt. "Was that exactly how you wanted it, Anastasia?" he asks finally, his breath low.

It takes me a second to regain use of my voice. But when I do even manage, it sounds frail, like I've just returned from running vigorously, "Yes, it... it's exactly how I wanted it. T-thank you." A sudden, embarrassing thought comes to me, self-consciousness slowly settling in. "Was I... I mean, do I taste... unpleasant to you?"

The way he deliberately seems to lick his lips at my question, the way he stares at me while undressing, I feel electrified, burning. "Most men wouldn't do it if the taste was unpleasant, Anastasia." There's gentleness in his tone, understanding. "But sometimes taste isn't as important as the way it feels, in giving unselfish pleasure to another. As for myself, I happen to find you taste delicious." He licks his lips again, managing to leave me breathless. He has definitely gone one further in simply reassuring me. He thinks I taste to delicious? How can he possibly find all that... bodily fluid delicious? " If I could, I'd do it to you every single day if that's what you wanted."

Oh, wow. He seems to know all the perfect things to say, and what's more, he isn't embarrassed to say it at all like I would be. Maybe that's something that comes with age and experience? I don't know.

I lick my own lips to erase their sudden dryness, my cheeks scorching. Then my eyes move. I cannot resist looking down there; At the sizable bulge straining in his underwear. It tells me all I need to know, that fortunately he's still every bit as ready and aroused as I feel.

Undoing the last button on his shirt, he tears it off his shoulders, peeling the sleeves from his arms. Christian's body, it amazes me yet again. Then again, I don't think I will get over how incredibly sexy and amazing the man is. Everything about him is. As I stare at him while he folds his shirt neatly then reaches down to step out of his underwear, I know without a doubt that he's definitely it for me, no question about it. No other man. No other man could ever be it for me. I know it.

My breath hitches in my throat as I catch sight of his organ, his erection, long and standing upright. As he sinks around me onto the mattress and coaxes me to take off my shirt and my bra, I lean back down again, touched by the way he looks at me like no other has looked at me. I've never seen anybody look at me the way he has, ever.

Like he truly sees all of me, every mark on my body. Even my breasts that I have never been too fond of, the shape of my nipples- he looks at me all with such tenderness, with such awe, as if I'm truly this amazing creature to him, something beautiful and attractive, something rare. He makes me feel incredibly beautiful, he washes away all my insecurities simply by looking at me.

"I love these," he murmurs, his gray eyes on my chest as he props himself up on both arms at my sides. "These are beautiful. Everything about you is." And the way he says it, the way he looks... it's impossible not to believe it. "I've missed you so much. It's been ... lonely without you."

"Me, too." My heart aches at hearing of his loneliness. But then it jolts as he leans down, pressing a quick kiss into my left nipple. Then he moves over to the right, doing the same, as I watch curiously. My chest heaves up and down from my unsteady breathing, but my nipples seem to harden at the touch of his lips. "I've missed you so much too."

Christian leans down again, kissing over my left breast again. But this time, he actually parts his lips, covering his mouth over my nipple, heating it with his saliva, his warm mouth as he sucks a little and licks it with the tip of his tongue. I groan at the heavenly feeling. I didn't think I would enjoy someone fussing over my breasts so much.

"No more," I find myself panting desperately. "Please... no more."

Finally, he moves his head back from my breasts, lifting his head to look down at me. His eyebrows arch, his forehead creasing. "No more?" he whispers, sounding startled. I think he has misjudged me, assuming I want no more of it completely. Hastily, I reach up with my hands, gripping onto his biceps, feeling the elongated muscle there, the warmth of his skin.

"No, I... mean, no more of the breasts, not that I want no... no more of this. I... I need you in me."

"Do you, now? You want me in you, my... cock?" Cock. I've never heard him actually say that before. Usually I would be turned off, usually finding such words vulgar and crass when guys say it. Only, with Christian, it's different. It's actually... hot. The way it curls off his tongue, so seductively, sort of dirtily. It's sexy.

"Please. I can't take anymore waiting."

And I get my wish at last. Eyes on nothing else but mine, he moves a hand down between our bodies. And then I feel him, guiding himself into me, pushing in. It doesn't hurt at all, it just only serves to quench that dull throb of need down there for him.

I can't help moaning again, my eyes clenching closed as I lean my head back down on the bed. Him, inside me, it's strangely like getting reacquainted with each other again. It's like making up for loss time, for those excruciating weeks without hearing from him. It's as if my body has been waiting for this exact moment, and now that it's here, it's closure. Comforting.

Now that he's in me, he uses his hand to comb his fingers through the strands of my long hair and then he leans down, kissing me, but the kiss feels different from how it was last time. It's harder, more desperate somehow. Like he's trying to make up for lost time too, like he's kissing away two weeks worth of absence. Before I know it, we both start to move as we kiss, my body matching his own, meeting every thrust, every pound into me.

"Jesus, honey," he gasps against my mouth as I clench around him, reaching breaking point, "Yes. Yes."

And after two weeks and so much missing him, so much pining, the reward is extra sweet.

...

Afterwards, we stay as we are for a while, naked on top of the sheets, neither of us having any energy to move.

He lays next to me, pressed against my back with both his arms around me, holding me tightly to him; his unshaven, bristly chin resting in the crook of my neck warmly as we both pant and try to come back down to earth. All of it, being together again, it was above and beyond what I had been craving for.

It was incredible and doing this, right now afterwards, lying naked and snuggling as the cold air in the room blows around our bare skin... I wouldn't give this up for anything else in the entire world. After a while, he lifts his chin out from the crook of my throat and I feel him lean down.

He plants a kiss on my sweaty temple, then uses his fingers, gently brushing strands of hair and my bangs out of my eyes as they remain there glued to my flushed skin from my sweat. I smile as he shifts up so that he is resting on his shoulder, and he grasps me by the chin, gently pushing me so that I fall completely on my back to the mattress.

He leans down again, surprising me this time with a planted kiss on my lips. When he moves back slightly, he looks down at me, evaluating me with his gray eyes. Again, it's impossible not to feel truly seen, not to feel beautiful beneath his gaze.

"I think that definitely just made up for the two weeks without you," I murmur slowly without thought. He responds by giving me a smile and a soft, spine-tingling-inducing chuckle as he reaches down again with his hand, his fingers brushing my cheek.

"I actually have to agree with you on that, Anastasia," he mutters, still smiling. But then his smile deflates a little. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No, you never. Maybe you hurt me a little with pleasure, but... it was a good hurt."

I stare up at him. There's a strange expression on his face that I can't quite work out, but then he moves out of the way before I can work it out. He leans down out of sight, kissing me over my earlobe this time while his arms tighten over me.

"Do you have any idea how glad I am that you responded to my text and agreed to meet me here?" he breathes in my ear, making me shiver.

"Not really," I breathe out. I reach up to brush my fingers over the back of his hand, to stroke it. "But I hope you know that I was really glad when you asked me to come here so that we could see each other again. When I hadn't heard from you- like I said earlier- I was beginning to think that you felt guilty over this."

"Do you feel guilty over this?"

It's a loaded question, one I'm not sure how to answer without potentially offending him. "Sometimes, when I'm at the apartment with your daughter, I... I start to," I admit, deciding to be honest. "Like when I left to come here, when I had to make up that I was heading off for the weekend to see my mother, it was then the guilt came to me really badly. Like I felt terrible for lying straight to her face." Pushing back from him a bit I manage to fall onto my side so that I can see his face better. He loosens his hold around me, but still tries to keep me close. I peer up into his eyes, staring at him. "When I was leaving, I... I started going through scenarios in my mind. Like I envisioned myself telling her where I was actually going, and how... she would react."

He swallows at my words, his throat knotting together. "And?"

"And it was all different outcomes. Either her yelling at me, or... slapping me. Calling me a liar and feeling betrayed, calling me a... a bad friend. Ending our friendship, even." I start to feel anxious and panicked even simply by speaking out loud about it, even although I know it isn't reality. "It's not anything with you that I feel guilty about, not necessarily. It's just... the deception that I feel guilty about."

I can't help getting the sense that Christian isn't comfortable talking about it; Well, how can it make anyone feel comfortable?

Clearing his throat hoarsely, he reaches down between us, and for a moment there I think he's going to touch my breasts. Only he doesn't. He stops at my stomach, and begins stroking it. Stroking down with his forefinger, then around.

"Guess what I'm writing on your skin," he murmurs, his voice different. I realize it's his way of avoiding speaking about Kate too much, his own way of lightening the mood between us.

"OK." And he succeeds in lightening my mood, definitely. I shut my eyes, trying to focus on nothing else but his finger as he spells something out. He does a stroke, then another. "Y-O-U," I manage to get through his tracings on my belly.

"That's correct so far," he confesses, sitting up straighter on his elbow, getting more into the game. "OK. Next."

"M," I breathe, once I recognize. "A-K-E. You make."

"Correct again."

"M-E. You make me."

It takes me a while to correctly guess what he is writing into my skin, but once I do think I get it, I reopen my eyes, staring over at him through my eyelashes with a satisfied smile.

"Well?" He breathes, his own voice laced with amusement at our new distracting game. "What do you think I wrote on your skin, Anastasia?"

Considering this is the very same man I caught grieving the loss of his wife in the dark of the night in the kitchen one night, it's beyond words, just how much knowing that means to me. The fact that I can make him happy... that he seems so much happier and over his divorce I think... it makes my stomach swell with profound emotion.

In response, I move my head in, kissing him lightly on the lips as a wave of joy overcomes me, suffocating me. As I lean back, my smile is still in place. "You make me happy," I whisper, revealing what he spelled out on my skin. "Is that right? Is that what you traced on my skin?"

"That's right. Well done."

"You do too, you know," I mutter back quietly, my voice going shaky. I feel a sudden tightness in my throat, a constriction there. God, he does make me so happy when around him. Words can't even describe how so damn happy he makes me feel. "You make me happy too. And peaceful. It's peaceful whenever I'm around you, too. Only the sad thing about it is that... you make me so happy around you that it never feels enough." Reaching up, I comb my fingers through the short strands of his hair, caressing his head, "Like even a few hours with you or... a few days. It's never enough time with you."

He sighs loudly. "I understand what you mean. For a long time there, I always felt that I was just going through the motions in life."

"Really?"

"Mmm. I would get up every morning, go to work. Same old things happening day in, day out. It wasn't really until this started between us that I began to feel like I'm living again." His voice is soft, thoughtful. "I don't think you truly understand the extent of your power over me, and how... good you've been for me."

I think I can actually understand more than he realizes I can. He's been great for me too.

"Well, when will I see you again?" I don't want to get my hopes up, of course. "When can we do this again? When can we... be together?"

"Well..." He purses his lips together in thought as he lifts an arm to run his fingers slowly through his hair, tousling it up. "I was thinking I could rent out a room every second week. Or even earlier. We could spend time together then." He seems to hesitate, as he runs a hand over his face. Then he meets my gaze again, his eyes creased, something uncertain in them. "If that's what you want though, of course? No pressure?"

How can he even ask me that? "Of course I want that," I mutter, unable to help the small giggle of outrage that leaves me along with the words. "I'd like that more than anything. Haven't I made it clear enough to you, just how much I enjoy seeing you? And how much I've missed you?" Surely I have, haven't I? And yet he still clearly has his doubts...

"I just wanted to be sure. I mean, if you didn't want to, of course, then I'd understand completely." What? Him saying that, it confuses me? What? He wouldn't care if I did end up not wanting to see him again? It wouldn't hurt him? Is that what he's saying?

"And if I didn't?" I test out loud, eyeing him. "Say, I said I didn't want to see you anymore, then what?"

"Then..." He sighs heavily, combing his hand through his hair again. "Of course, I would have to respect your decision." He shrugs.

"You wouldn't be hurt then?" I cannot help the edge of hurt in my tone, of offense. "You wouldn't care?"

"Of course I would," he argues back, shaking his head. "Anastasia, that isn't what I meant at all. Of course I'd be hurt. And... incredibly pissed off. But what could I do when it's your decision?" The way he voices it, the way he sounds so calm, so logical, it's irritating. "I wouldn't want to force you into anything. If at any moment... if you wanted to stop this, if... you needed to focus on other things like college, then I would try to respect that and stay out of your way completely."

Even although he's trying to explain it to me, I can't say I completely understand what he is trying to say. So he'd care if I suddenly decided I didn't want to see him anymore? But he'd respect my decision either way?

I really don't want to start an argument with him, all because I can't understand what he means. So I press my lips together, all the while trying to calm down my heart and let go of the sudden sharp ache that has radiated within me at the feelings he has just brought out of me all thanks to what he just stated. Instead, I lean back against the pillow behind me, trying to relax and clear my mind while I cover an arm over my exposed breasts protectively. Air hits my skin, making me shudder from a slight chill in the room. Christian must notice it.

"You're cold," he murmurs, and I try not to watch him as he moves down to drape the sheets over both of our bodies, covering us in its heavy warmth. "Here, honey. This should feel better."

I clench my eyes tightly shut as he leans back down against me; his muscular arms coming around me again, holding me in a warm, tight embrace while he nuzzles his chin into my hair. Despite how haywire my emotions are over his comments, I manage to somehow drift off, in his arms, feeling safe, warm, and somehow protected.

...

"I've got you under my skin... I've got you deep in the heart of me."

I am brutally woken seconds or minutes, or even hours, later to the soothing crooning of Frank Sinatra singing 'I've Got You Under My Skin'. For a moment, I think it's Christian playing his music, waking me up to it. But then a second later as I stir groggily, opening my eyes slowly, it occurs to me that Christian still is in the hotel bed with me, his arms tight around me so it mustn't have been him getting up to play some good old Frank like I first assumed he had.

"So deep in my heart that you're really a part of me... I've got you under my skin."

I realize, combined with his voice, there's a weird buzzing sound. Then it occurs to me that it's my ring tone, that my phone is going off with a call, and I shoot up in the bed, untangling my arms from Christian as I tear the sheets off.

"Girl after my own heart," I hear Christian murmur sleepily from his place on the bed as I dart around, searching for my phone. "So you even made good old Frank your main ring tone?"

"I did, thanks to you introducing him to me," I admit, distractedly rummaging around the clothes on the floor, searching for my phone in my jeans. I don't find it in any pockets. "I knew you'd appreciate that."

I'm still completely naked and it's freezing in the hotel room yet I cannot even bring myself to care. I just need to find my damn phone.

When I do finally spot it near my bag with all my clothes and belongings inside it, I rush towards it, snatching it up hastily. Reading the name on the caller I.D makes my heart pick up in dread, my scalp prickling with panic. Crap, it's Kate! And here I am, in a hotel room with her father where we are both sleeping off incredible sex...

I'm not sure whether to tell Christian who the caller is or not, but when I glance over at him nervously, I realize I have to. Already, he's sitting up, leaning against the headboard, watching me curiously. He looks still half-asleep, but alert enough.

"Who is it?" he asks, his voice rough from interrupted sleep.

Frank's voice continues to carry on with the song. Instead, I decide to fill him in later. I give him a quick apologetic smile while rushing towards the bathroom. Once safely inside with the door closed, I answer.

"Hey, Kate."

"Jesus, Ana. I've been worried over whether you made it to your mom's OK or not?" Oh, crap. I said I'd text her or call her the instance I got in so she wouldn't worry. She sounds angry- probably deservedly so. ""You said you'd contact me as soon as you got in?"

"Kate, I am so sorry. I completely forgot to." I grimace as I wander around the bathroom, my bare feet slapping against the cool tiles. I take a deep breath, before saying, "I was overtaken by Mom bombarding me with questions on how college has been. It completely slipped my mind."

"But you're OK?"

"Yes, I'm fine. I got here fine."

"OK, just so long as you are safe." To my relief, she sounds placated. "Say hi to your Mom for me." I grimace again.

"Of course, I will. See you on Sunday sometime, probably in the afternoon."

"OK then. I'll miss you."

"Yeah, you too, Kate."

"Love you and I'll see you then. Bye."

She loves me? Would she still if she knew?

"Um, yeah, love you too. Bye." I hang up, then set my cell on the basin while going to the toilet.

I flush and return to the sink to wash my hands, my eyes immediately meeting my reflection in the mirror as I stare back at myself. My eyes drift down to my nakedness and my breasts. My lips appear swollen, probably from all the kissing last night. My nipples certainly feel a little tender too. Probably from Christian's special attention to them.

Shaking my head, I meet my blue-eyed, wide gaze again, staring hard at myself.

I feel ill, all of a sudden. Ill with shooting anxiety. Poor Kate. I had completely forgotten to call or text her to let her know I had arrived safely. She was scared and worried, probably fearful I had gotten lost or murdered or raped or something. Yet I wasn't any of that; I was just overtaken by being with her father, with re-familiarizing myself with him.

I am a terrible person. What the hell type of person has a sort of relationship with her best friends dad, then lies about it?

No, I am worse than just terrible. I am-

"Ana?" Christian's voice suddenly tears me out of my self-loathing. I jump, turning towards the door. "Ana, honey, are you all right?"

Grabbing my cell, I open the door, heading back out slowly. I find Christian where he was when I'd left him, sitting up in bed, the sheet covering everything below his waist.

"Who was it?" he asks again, patting the mattress gently with the palm of his hand, inviting me back. He must see something on my face that gives me away, because he adds warily with an edge of concern, "You look paler than usual? Did something happen?"

I take a deep breath before stepping back towards the bed. He opens the sheet for me, and I slide back in, sighing as he immediately moves closer, enveloping me in his warmth again, his body heat. Pushing aside all my ill feelings, my self-loathing and anxiety, it's hard.

"It was your daughter," I breathe quietly, finding I don't have the strength to look at him. "There's nothing wrong with her, she's good. It's just... she asked me to contact her as soon as I got to my mother's, and I promised I would." Bracing myself, I turn to look at him nervously. He just stares at me, patiently waiting. "I just forgot to, so she called me worried that something may have happened to me."

"And she believed you?"

"Yeah, she did. She definitely did."

If I'm not mistaken, I think I see Christian relax a little, his shoulders sagging as if an invisible weight has been lifted. "Then that's good," he murmurs, relief in his tone. "I thought perhaps with the way you were reacting, that something truly bad had happened. An accident with your mother or Katherine."

"No, nothing like that. It was... just your daughter."

He must see that I'm still bothered, because he says after a moment, "Then are you all right?"

Am I all right? God, how am I meant to answer that when I am so many different things right now?

He reaches over, grasping onto my hand, squeezing it gently. "Honey, what's wrong? You look upset."

"I'm not so much... upset. I'm just... I don't know."

"Tell me. You can talk to me." I glance over, concern written on Christian's face. His gray eyes are shining, shining with what seems worry, worry and what? Fear? He squeezes my hand again, then brings it up to his mouth. He kisses my knuckles twice while the bristly stubble on his unshaven chin buffers me, making my heart lighten. I was not expecting him to do that.

"I just... I feel like a horrible person," I confess uneasily, grimacing miserably. "Lately I've felt that way, just... a terrible friend. And Kate severing our friendship- the thought devastates me."

Christian takes a sharp breath at my words as he leans down to press a small kiss against my knuckles again slowly. Then he lifts his head, meeting my gaze. The look in his eyes due to my confession... there's his own shame there, his own guilt, I think. He closes his eyes for a second, then reopens them. "Do you want this to stop?" he breathes, his face scrutinizing mine. "Is that what you want? Is this... too much for you?"

Do I want this to stop? My head whirls in confusion at the conclusion he's came too. But once that confusion slowly subsides, I have to think his question over. Do I want this to stop? Could I ask for this to stop?

I stare down at the sheets, swallowing back a painful lump in my throat.

No, is my answer after some silent thought, with deep clarity, with deep certainty. No, I don't want this to stop with Christian. Not ever. It probably makes me selfish, but it's true. The thought of stopping this, it seems impossible. And we've gotten this far. I could never ask for this to stop, could I? Because I know how I feel, and my feelings are too deep. They aren't feelings that you can just... switch off like a tap.

Tears prick my eyes, which is embarrassing. Crying in front of him is not something I want to do.

"No, I couldn't," I whisper, my heart seizing, twisting painfully. "I couldn't want this to stop even if I tried. No matter how horrible a person it makes me feel, and an even more horrible friend to Kate, I can't even bring myself to start being OK with the idea of this ending." I turn to look at him, my eyes a little blurry from my unshed tears. He kisses my hand again then breathes into my skin deeply, in a way that I feel is almost thankful, a way that is almost expressing relief or even gratitude over my answer. "I can't ever imagine not being with you despite the... the potential consequences. Selfish of me, I know, but... it's the truth."

"Then consider me incredibly selfish as well," he mutters strongly, his voice edged with irritation. "When I said that you make me happy, I wasn't kidding around. I haven't felt this happy in years- and I believe I've already told you that I didn't think it attainable for me to feel happiness ever again, and yet... here we are."

Hope and relief flares in my own heart at his words. So he doesn't want this to stop either? He couldn't possibly ever either? But at the risk of losing his only daughter and ruining her trust in him... all because of me?

"Here you are," he adds, then he leans down, pressing a light kiss into my hand again while giving my hand another squeeze. "I'm selfish enough that I know with complete conviction that I don't want this to end between us, I don't want this- all of it, this happiness... this completeness- to end. But if- and when- it becomes too difficult for you, if it becomes too much of a heavy burden on your conscience, then I'd understand completely."

His admission brings me back to however long ago it was, our conversation on him saying he'd be OK and respectful of my decision had I ever wanted this to stop between us. I had felt upset at the time, even hurt, thinking he was implying that he wouldn't care if I did ever want this to cease between us. I realize now, what he had only meant by that was that he himself didn't want it to stop between us, but he would respect my decision either way if it was what was best for me in regards to my mental health.

I can't think of anything to say in response, but I can only hope my actions make him understand with what I do next. I reach up with my hand, caressing the side of his face. Then I lean in, kissing him, attaching my mouth to his, hoping it says it all. He kisses me back for a long, hard moment, and then I bring up my knees on the bed, crawling over him as I push him back down on the mattress while Christian blindly but impatiently kicks the sheet off his naked body, my fingers tight on the strands in his hair.

THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR BEING SO KIND AND NICE WITH YOUR WELL WISHES, IT MEANS A LOT. MY FINGERS STILL A BIT STIFF BUT AT LEAST I DIDN'T LOSE IT COMPLETELY AS SOME OF YOU SAID, WHICH IS A RELIEF LOL.

HOPE YOU LIKED THIS CHAPTER AND THAT IT WASN'T TOO DRAMATIC. JUST A BIT OF TURMOIL BETWEEN THESE TWO, A LITTLE ANGST SOMEWHAT. DON'T WORRY, CHRISTIAN SAYS HE WILL 'RESPECT HER DECISION' BUT NATURALLY, HE COULDN'T LET HER GO EASILY- LIKES/IS FALLING FOR HER MORE THAN HE LETS ON- HE WOULD BE HIS USUAL JEALOUS SELF, WHICH WILL REAR ITS HEAD NEXT CHAPTER WHEN IT COMES TO A CERTAIN PERSON HE SEES WITH ANA.

AS ALWAYS, I WOULD LOVE TO KNOW YOUR THOUGHTS AND APPRECIATE THEM SO MUCH!