Chapter fourteen

Hours passed.

Ana lay in blankets trying to drift off to sleep, but all she could do was think of was his bare chest and being in his arms. Her thoughts embarrassed her. You were not supposed to feel this way unless you were married AND in a happy relationship. She yearned of him making love to her, touching every part of her body and especially down there. These thoughts of him felt so right. That's because you're in love with him. The thought came out of nowhere, and in the darkness of the night, there was nowhere to hide. The mortifying part was, how could something so wrong also feel so right?

She rolled onto her side, facing him, resting her cheek on her hand as she studied him at her leisure. Everything about him was pleasing to the eye, especially those gray eyes of his which for the moment, lay behind dark lashes. He looked peaceful, one arm tucked under his head, stretched out on the bed, barely leaving any room for her. But she didn't mind at all; she loved having him close. She had slept so well that night when they'd slept on the couch with his arms wrapped around her.

She must have fallen asleep at some point, she couldn't remember.

"You're certainly up early," he said with his eyes still closed.

Ana opened her eyes wider in surprise. He had caught her completely off-guard. The sun is not out yet; it was barely a little after six. She had the feeling she had not slept a wink all night, and yet she felt oddly rested.

"Yes. Go back to sleep," she mumbled, pushing the blankets back. When she attempted to get out of bed, Christian reached for her, gently urging her to stay with him.

Ana cautiously settled back under the covers.

"What were you thinking about just now?" Christian's voice was raspy with sleep.

Oh, Christian, I want to slip my fingers through your hair and stroke you like a cat. Shocked that her own thoughts were beginning to betray her, she quickly spoke. "I was thinking of home."

"You can call your grandmother anytime you want to, Anastasia. Please don't give it a second thought. Okay?"

"Okay. " She appreciated his kindness. Not that she was planning on taking advantage of it, but she did feel better knowing she could call mami anytime she wanted.

He fully opened his eyes, drinking in the sight of her, just in time to catch her girlish smile. He could easily grow accustomed to waking up to the sight of her every morning for the rest of his days if she would have him that is. And there was every chance in the world she would reject him as soon as she found out about his shameful past, even if she intellectually understood he'd never meant to cause any harm.

All of a sudden, he became aware of his need to look good in her eyes. He'd never been one to care much what others thought of him, but he cared what SHE thought of him. He reached for her, letting his fingers trace the outline of her jaw, before letting his palm rest softly against her face.

Ana closed her eyes, and she instinctively leaned her face against his touch. He knew then she would only give him her body after he had given her his heart.

Maybe she didn't have to find out about his past just yet. Did she?

"Ay, muchacha linda," he sighed a tortured sigh that resonated deep in her soul. He wanted her now more than ever, but at the same time, he didn't want to take advantage.

Falling under his spell, she instinctively reached to touch his arm. His gaze immediately softened, and her hand strayed to his chest. At the feel of her fingers against his skin, Christian drew in a breath, the lower half of him growing hard. He knew Ana noticed, but she didn't shy away. She continued the bold tour of his chest, grazing his skin with her palm, then raking downwards with her fingernails.

Taking in the sweetness of her scent, he couldn't stop his labored breathing, couldn't stop the bunching and the flexing beneath her touch. Every inch of him throbbed painfully. What kind of exquisite torture was this? And just when he thought he would lose his mind with need and longing, she drew closer and her gaze fell to his lips.

He took in a tortured breath. "I want you, I want you so much it hurts," he murmured, surprising them both.

Before she could answer, he covered her mouth with his. She felt a jolt of heat; she couldn't stop her own body from responding anymore than she could stop her heart from beating. While they kissed, she reached up to his hair, his copper locks curling slightly over her fingers. Touching his ear, she fingered the velvety the underside of his earlobe as though she already knew this erroneous zone was one he particularly enjoyed, then plunged her hands again into his hair, enjoying the texture.

Desperately wanting to reciprocate, his lips sought to nibble on her earlobe, satisfied to feel her shiver. His hand strayed down to her thigh.

"Do you trust me?"

Her eyes widened as he pulled away to look into her eyes, his hand now resting in the apex between her thighs.

"I promise you I will not do anything you don't want me to do," he took in a deep breath. "I just want to touch you, Anastasia. I want to give you pleasure, that's all."

She bit her lip, and he narrowed his eyes. "Christian, I-" she mumbled, uncertain of what to do next.

"Have you ever touched yourself there?"

Her cheeks turned bright pink. "No." She said, but something in her eyes betrayed her.

"Did it feel good?"

"Ah..." she hesitated. "I don't know..."

"I'm going to give you a mind-blowing orgasm, Anastasia...you'll feel like you're exploding inside... in a good way of course."

Ana found herself lost in his gaze, in that wild promise of his. It was shocking. Her pussy was throbbing like crazy, and her panties were soaking wet. And while she'd read a few trashy romance novels, she'd never experienced an actual orgasm.

"I don't know—" she muttered. If there was something she was absolutely certain of was that she really didn't want him to take his hand off her clitoris. Her entire body was humming with a wild desire she'd never known before, and she was irrevocably hooked.

"Do you trust me?" He reiterated, certain he'd be able to stop when she told him to stop. "I will not cross that line unless you ask me to."

"But...how about you?" She asked, all too aware of his erection.

"Don't worry about me, I'll be okay," he said as he lowered her shorts but left her panties on, satisfied at her sweet wetness. Oh, yes, he could make her come like that in two seconds flat, he challenged himself. All he wanted was to see the look on her face when she experienced orgasm for the first time. The perverse side of him was hoping that once she'd experienced that, she'd want it again and again. He continued to stroke her clit through the thin fabric of her underwear, his fingers acting as a natural vibrator, applying steady pressure and making her squirm and wiggle. The fabric was so thin and damp he was sure to her it was as if she was wearing nothing.

She was already moving against him, those sexy little whimpers of hers, driving him insane. His mind was full of her, her shape, her scent. And he wanted more. He wanted to rip her panties and taste her.

Her whimpers became moans, and her moans became quick mindless gasps.

"Wh-what's happening?" She barely managed to say.

"You're getting ready to come, that's what," he smirked at her, his finger continued to tantalize her swollen pussy lips. "Just go with it, embrace it. Don't fight it. That's it. That's it. Close your eyes and let go."

She did as she was told, and when she finally erupted beneath him, he wrapped his arms around her and held her gaze. He would never forget that look of surprise and wonder mixed with organic pleasure. And he pressed his head to her belly and shuddered with her, his lips pressing kisses to her bare skin.

And he wanted more. He wanted to take her right then and there and bury himself deep inside of her but he couldn't. He couldn't. He'd given her his word. He couldn't cross that line unless he was willing to commit himself to her one-hundred perfect. Anything less than that would be completely unacceptable.

And he wasn't sure he wanted that.

He pulled away from her and dashed to the bathroom. He needed a cold shower. Or a hot shower. Whichever.

When he came out of the shower twenty minutes later, he found Anastasia was gone. The bed was perfectly made. The first rays of the sun were peeking through the partially open curtains but no sign of her.

He found her in the kitchen dressed in jeans, fixing eggs and bacon for breakfast.

"Good morning," she said politely casting a nervous eye in his direction before returning her attention to the skillet. "I hope you slept well."

"I did. Although waking up was the best part," he said. There was a playful glint in his eyes and a hint of a mischievous smile. He was toying with her, amusing himself. If she thought he was going to sweep what happened in the bedroom under the proverbial rug, she had another thing coming.

Ana was tired of playing the part of the skittish kitten. Still, she was unable to make a quick come back remark. In fact, for an embarrassingly long time, she was unable to speak. That smile of his was something else. It seemed to clear all the air from her lungs and shaped it into a hard knot in her throat.

As he moved about in the kitchen and started setting the table, she struggled to clear away the knot and prayed for the return of her speech and her mental faculties.

"I got work this morning," he said as they sat down for breakfast. "Before I go, I can show you how to use the phone your little sister gave you," he offered, taking a bite of his bacon.

"Okay," she said with a small shrug. She failed to see why everyone seemed so much into their mobile devices, but if she was going to navigate this world successfully, she'd better get on with the program.

They sat together on the couch with their phones. All too aware of his closeness, Ana sat as far away as possible, wanting to avoid a repeat from the situation in the bedroom. Clearly, his proximity did unexplainable things to her.

He got busy on his phone and told her he was set up text messaging. They did a walkthrough on how to type messages back and forth.

"You know how to type?"

Ana nodded. "I took two typing classes in secretarial school."

He raised a brow. "You went to secretarial school?" He cocked his head. "Didn't you also take a translation course?"

"I did both."

"Were these elective classes?"

She looked confused. "I suppose...nobody forced me into these classes, it was completely voluntary."

He let out a laugh. He then went on to explain the high school system of core classes and classes that you choose from a list of electives.

"Okay, I think I understand. In Cuba, all high school classes are core classes. The secretarial and translation classes I took were separate, I took them during my last year in high school."

Christian was amazed at how she found the time to do all that. "Senior year. The last year of high school is called the senior year."

"Oh, okay."

Suddenly he wanted to know EVERYTHING about her days in high school. "In high school, many students attend both a junior and a senior prom," he said, and she nodded.

"Yes, I've heard about the prom. You're supposed to dress fancy."

"Do they have something like that in Cuba?"

"No, there are no school-related dances. Although there are quinceanera parties for girls on their fifteenth birthday."

"Did you have a quinceanera party?" He asked, holding his breath in anticipation of her answer. In his mind, he pictured Ana dancing with different guys in tuxedos. His blood nearly boiled at the mere thought of these young men being close enough to kiss her.

"Yes."

"How many guys did you dance with? Did you kiss any of them?" He impulsively asked before he could catch himself.

Ana stared at him in shock. Yes, she had kissed one of the boys she'd danced with who later turned out to be a jerk. "I went to many parties that year..." She answered vaguely.

"That doesn't answer my question," he shot back with shocking intensity. It thrilled her to no end. "I bet none of them were good kissers."

Sensing dangerous territory, she stood up and stood nervously by the window, pretending she was suddenly interested in the scenery.

Shit! Now he'd managed to scare her off. A notification came in, and he glanced at the time on his phone. He really was going to be late for his meeting if he didn't leave immediately. Screw the meeting. This was far more important.

"Ana," he mumbled, tapping the cushion beside him. "Come here. Forget what I said. I still need to show you how to send text messages."

She hesitated before coming to sit beside him. Her emotions were all over the place, and she was trying her darndest not to let it show.

"Well, okay typing on a phone is different from typing on a computer..."

"Yeah. I notice how you type with your thumb and how it flies across the screen," she smiled sweetly.

"Some people type with both thumbs, some use the hunt and peck method. Teenagers have their own way, I think they memorize the order of the letters...we could ask Chloe." He paused and leaned over closer, his sudden proximity taking her breath away. "You want to give it a try? Type something right here."

"Hmm...what do I type?" She asked stupidly. He smelled heavenly; a subtle mix of soap and grassy aftershave. The scents tickled her nose and warmed her lungs.

"Anything," he shrugged. "Just say Hi...dear husband, your wish is my command," he teased. In the next moment, he contemplated what it would be like to receive such a text from her.

She was initially stumped but quickly recovered. Her eyes brightened with a new idea. "I know what I'll type!" She paused meaningfully. "Husband of mine, you're so naive." She said, not lifting a finger. She wasn't typing that. She was just having a little fun.

"I like the sound of that!"

His lazy grin started her heart racing.

She cocked her head, smiling. "That you're naive?"

He suddenly cupped her cheek in his hand, and they locked eyes. "Nah. I liked you calling me husband."

"In that case...husband, husband, husband!" Ana couldn't help a tiny giggle when she said that.

And he marveled how she could be bold and flirtatious, and coy and bashful, all at the same time. It was an intriguing combination. He stared deeply into her eyes and shook his head. He wanted to kiss her again but forced himself to resume the task at hand.

"It's getting late, and I have a meeting."

Ana swallowed a disappointed sigh. Next, she tried typing on the screen but was immediately frustrated when she kept pushing the letter key next to the one she wanted. She furrowed her brow. "How do I erase?"

Christian showed her, and she struggled to type her message. "Okay...I think I got it typed!" She beamed.

"Now hit send, and it should appear on my screen," he said, staring at his own screen. He couldn't wait to see what she'd typed. He felt like when he was back in middle school, waiting to see whether the girl he liked, liked him back.

She typed: husband, husband, husband in all caps.

He flashed her a smile, and she smiled back before lowering her eyes coyly.

She received the following message from him: Wife: Now you can send me messages with grocery items or anything else you want me to pick up."

Ana let out a deep sigh. She was amazed; they were communicating in real-time!. "You will be all the way at work, and you will still get my messages instantly?"

He nodded. All of a sudden, he wished he could stay home with her all day and teach her everything she needed to know. "Will you be alright here all by yourself all day?" He asked, his brow raised in concern.

She raised a brow mirroring his. "Yes."

"That reminds me, almost forgot," he tapped his head. "I scheduled my cleaning lady to come tomorrow between 10 and 2pm. The company name is Molly Maid. She will be wearing a uniform with the company's name. She will show you her ID. Open the door only after you have verified her identity."

"Wh-what? What am I supposed to do while she's here? Sit around and watch?"

He took a moment to think things through. It occurred to him right then and there that she could take some college classes online. It would solve the problem of her having something to do during the day while he was working. Grey, you're thinking about this as though this arrangement was long term, as though their marriage was real.

"Ana. I really don't want you to keep thinking of yourself as the cleaning lady. You're my wife. Think about how this is going to look to the immigration officers. It will appear I'm exploiting you, that I brought you to this country as my cleaning slave," he said, half-serious, half-joking, eliciting a tiny smile from her. "And we don't want them to think that, do we? We want them to believe ours is a real marriage," he paused to gauge her reaction. She was nodding her head in agreement. "I was thinking you can start taking college classes online during the day." He paused again, thinking how much he would like to stay home and show her how easy it was.

She cocked her head, puzzled. "Online classes? But how?"

"It's just like attending classes in person except you'll be here right at home. I would set you up with a laptop that has a built-in camera. You will be able to see your instructor and classmates in real-time."

Ana exhaled. Wow. That was mind bowling.

"Anyway, send me a list," he said in an effort to wrap things up.

"I don't think I will message you a grocery list," she said after a long while. The idea felt really so foreign to her. Ironically, the only foreigner here was her. Funny how all these years, growing up, she'd felt like an American, it was her birthright. But then, coming here had been such a humbling experience. She had been so wrong in her assumptions; time and time again over the last three days, it had become painfully evident how much of a foreigner she really was.

"I would like to go to the store with you." There was so much out there for her to see and explore. Besides she was getting tired of being cooped up in the house. All of a sudden, she had an intense longing for home, for her grandmother, her friends, and everyone she knew.

He noticed at once her change of mood. "Of course. We'll go out tonight after I get home."

That seemed to make her a little happier.

He then grabbed a few papers from the coffee table and put them in his briefcase, getting ready to leave. When he looked up again, their eyes locked. But then, suddenly, a notification sound alerted him, and he became deeply immersed in his phone, his fingers flying across the screen. It wasn't until five minutes later that he told her what it was all about.

"My sister Mia is in town."

"I didn't know you had a sister."

"We've estranged. I'm guessing mom and dad are refusing to help her out this time and I'm her last resort."

"Your mom and dad? I thought they were... gone?"

Christian exhaled. "It's a long story, I'll tell you more another time. Right now, what matters is that she's coming to visit us tonight. Is it okay if we postpone our shopping for tomorrow night?"

"Of course."

He quickly rose to his feet. "I gotta go," he leaned in and kissed the top of her head before dashing out the door.

….

Two hours later

The doorbell rang while Ana was busy in the kitchen. The sound initially startled her, but she quickly recovered. Maybe it was their neighbor coming to welcome them home. He or she must have realized Christian was back from his month-long absence. The thought cheered her up. In Cuba, neighbors were often closer than family, and she longed to make that kind of connection. She only wished she'd remembered to ask Christian to tell her more about their neighbors.

Ana walked to the door and looked through the small round peephole. A blonde woman standing there, she looked professional dressed in a white-collar shirt and dark pantsuit. There was no way she was the cleaning lady. Ana distinctly remembered Christian telling her the woman from Molly Maid would be wearing a uniform, and she wasn't coming over until tomorrow anyway.

"Hello? Who is it?"

Instead of answering, the other woman took a step back and looked furtively around her before bending down to slide an envelope under the door.

Ana picked up the envelope, lifted the seal, and pulled out a notecard which read:

I'm Elena Lincoln. Looking for Mr. Christian Grey.