Chapter 27 – Open Book

Nothing made me relax faster than when the feeling of relief and relaxation took over Ana's body. It felt as if her body melted into mine. She was completely at ease at a time when I thought she would run like hell from me – as we discussed my BDSM lifestyle. I would say it was unexpected, but that would be the understatement of the year. Yet, it really did feel like some of the emotional weight she'd been carrying around on her shoulders was lifted.

"How about we have brunch and afterward start our game of twenty questions?" I didn't want to play the twenty questions at this moment mainly because the atmosphere between us felt perfect and I didn't want to ruin it, but I had promised. "After that we can go explore New York."

Her blue eyes gazed upward and locked on mine and she softly states, "I only have two questions for you; well serious questions and I'd rather get them over with before we eat. How did you get into the BDSM lifestyle and what did you get from it?"

Try as I might, I can't prevent my body from tensing against hers. I both love and hate the fact that she's honest and direct. I sigh nervously before running my fingers through my hair and pull her closer. "Just over six months ago, I would have defined my personal life as a cluster fuck of dysfunction, darkness, and control, while describing my business life as ridiculously successful. While living through it, I made an effort not to get attached to anyone or have feelings for anyone. The first four years of my life set me up for that because, unlike you, my pixels were reversed – millions of emotional ones that I choked down and ignored, while focusing on the one that was the darkness and dysfunction."

When I paused, she took my hand and intertwined her fingers with mine. "Darkness and dysfunction can be a pretty lonely and scary place. I've been there. You're not alone you know? What happened your first four years?"

"Carrick and Grace adopted me when I was four. My birthmother was a prostitute and hooked on drugs. This left me to pretty much fend for myself, try to care for her and fail, and at the mercy of her abusive pimp. To this day when I see someone smoking or smell a cigarette, I remember. It's like a mini-flashback to being used as a human ashtray by a fucking asshole. It was a period of neglect, abuse, and for lack of a better term, a time when nothing in my life was in control. Flynn, God love him, told me that infants, toddlers, and children in general need a routine and to feel safe. I had none of those things. Those four years were filled with fear, hunger, and abuse. It only ended when she overdosed. I was locked in the apartment for four days with her dead body before the authorities found me. They only found me because the pimp came that day, found her dead, and hurt me because he told me it was my fault. He left me there but called the authorities. It was all so fucked up."

There are tears in her eyes as she keeps her fingers intertwined with mine on one hand, and wraps her arm around my waist pulling herself closer to me. "If you don't want to go on, I understand."

"I need to," I sigh. "I remember every second of those days in the apartment – the social worker pulling me off her body, me screaming for her as they put me in an ambulance, and then just shutting down completely. Grace was the Pediatrician on duty that night. I wouldn't let anyone touch me. I was wild and out of control – grief and fear will do that to a child, or so Flynn says. She had the patience of a saint with me; well, enough to get me sedated so they could examine and treat me. I was in the hospital for a few weeks receiving care and nutrition. Grace came to see me multiple times per day, every day even though I didn't say a word. She was like an angel to me. Hell, she still is.

"Carrick and Grace adopted me when I was so profoundly damaged that when I look back now, I can't help but wonder how they did it. I wasn't an easy kid to deal with," I feel myself starting to calm down as I speak. The words are just flowing out of me. "The first two years I walked around that house, following Grace, Carrick, or Elliot around like a pilot fish. They were awesome. They put up with my tantrums, night terrors, and the fact that I wouldn't allow anyone to hug me. Even though I didn't utter a single word the first two years I was there, I managed to communicate with pointing or nodding. They were wonderful to me, yet I was afraid to get attached. I look back now and realize I was already attached back then. I wanted nothing more than to be like Elliot. He was an amazing big brother. I went from a horrible situation to a wonderful family where I never felt like I fit in, or to put it better, I didn't feel like I deserved to be with them. When they adopted Mia, I finally started talking. She was so small and innocent. I knew I had to protect her so no one would hurt her like I'd been hurt. I adored her from the second I saw her. Protecting her meant I had to talk and the words came. Still, I kept myself at arms length from them."

I'm happy Ana didn't interrupt and let me continue. While this is a difficult conversation to have, I just want it out in the open with her. No more barriers between us. "I've been in therapy since I was adopted, the last five with Flynn. It wasn't until the last six months that I've allowed myself to honestly and painfully allowed myself to open up and delve into the past. Before this my fear and self-loathing held back my rational side when it came to therapy. My emotional side held one-hundred percent of the control."

"The last six months?" she asked anxiously.

I couldn't help but laugh, which made her frown at me. It felt good to laugh like this. I felt almost carefree or at least heading in that direction. "The day you kicked my ass in the playroom was hands down the best day of my life. It might not have felt like it at the time, but I can say that now. You basically karate kicked down the wall that hid shielded my rational side. So yes, my balls were the weakest link."

We're both laughing now, though she's clearly laughing nervously. There's also no missing the guilt in her glassy eyes.

"Before that day Anastasia, my life was structured, controlled, rigid, and emotionless – unless that emotion was anger. Did I love my family? Yes, but I didn't show it or allow them to show it to me. I worked hard to compensate or block out the emotional void in my life. Frankly, I'm not sure which. All I know is that void and trying to fill it with something made me a filthy rich asshole." I can't help but laugh at that. "My adult life outside of work was simple – work, more work, flying, sailing, and submissives. I've had fifteen submissives since I was twenty-one. All with contracts and NDA's. There were no emotional attachments on my part, and if any of them got attached to me their contracts were immediately terminated. Some were professional women, others artists. All were intelligent and decent people. I saw them Friday night thru Sunday late afternoon, but never during the week. They had their own bedroom at my place for the weekends. They were allowed in the playroom, the kitchen, and in their own bedroom. They were never allowed in my home office or my bedroom. It was purely about sex and –

She gazed up at me with concern when I stop suddenly. "And punishing your mother for not taking care of you and leaving you?" she whispers.

"Yes. They were all women who enjoyed discipline and rough sex," I whisper with embarrassment.

"So how did you get into BDSM in the first place?"

"Fuck!" I stammer getting to my feet and begin pacing the room nervously before the words just pour out of me like blood from a damaged artery. "I was a teenager who wouldn't allow myself to be touched or hugged. My hormones were ragging out of control, so to compensate I got into fights regularly just for human contact. I was expelled from two different schools and on the verge of making it a trifecta. My parents and therapists were at a loss. Carrick and Grace sent me to do some manual labor in a friends yard. She was the one who introduced me to it."

"How old were you?"

"Fifteen. I mean she was an attractive, older woman, who I'd known growing up. I was working in her yard clearing out heavy debris and I mouthed off to her. She slapped me, kissed me, and then slapped me again. I was shocked. It evolved from there. She taught me self-control. My behavior improved, as did my grades. I did a complete one-eighty in a few weeks because the punishments sucked, but the rewards were something I never had – human contact. I mean, I didn't love her – hell, fuck no. I never even liked her, but it was an outlet. Yes, I can see now it was a fucked up outlet after years of denying to Flynn how fucked up and illegal it was. It was statutory rape for the legal term. I was her submissive for five years before she taught me to be a dominant and acted as my submissive. Having a submissive gave me sexual release without fear of someone touching my chest or back, which would have caused me to lash out violently."

"But I touched your back at the hospital when you barged in my session with Flynn," she stammers.

I can't help but smile at her. "You should have seen Flynn's face when you did that. He tried to warn you off, but you didn't. It was the first time anyone has touched my back and I felt soothed rather than panicked. I was in awe of you."

Her cheeks turn crimson, which causes me to laugh. "God you are adorable." I gently kiss her lips before continuing. "Six months ago I started redefining my life using a nomenclature much like geologists define Earth's periods – Proterozoic, Paleozoic, Mesozoic, etc… but mine are a bit more colorful – the Black Period #1 for the first four years; the Grey period for years four through fifteen; the Black Period #2 for fifteen until 6-months ago; and finally, the Blue period in honor of your eyes. I knew the minute you fell into my office that my life would never be the same, but it wasn't until you forcibly tried to reinsert my balls into my body in the playroom that the rational side of me reared it's head. So the rumor is true, men think with their junk."

We both smirk at this. "I finally opened up to not just myself, but Flynn. Little by little, I'm taking steps toward tranquility, peace, and more importantly trust. I've spent time with my family, been more open, and have loved it. Granted, I still haven't found it in me to disclose about my BDSM past and I don't know if I ever will. It would hurt my mother too much and frankly, I'm afraid of losing this newfound closeness with them. Hell, I've gotten to the point where I allow my family to hug me and I love it. I feel like one of those fund-raising charts where you are filling up an imaginary flask, when you reach your goal it's full and my flask will never be full. I have nearly three decades of lost time to make up for."

She gently takes my hand and pulls me back down onto the blanket. Her eyes never left mine until she pulls me into her arms and hugs with closely. "I look forward to helping you fill your flask and begin another trillion flasks Christian."

I can't resist pulling her into my lap and hold her closely. When I rest my head against hers, I ask, "So you're not running?"

"First, your arms are wrapped around me, so I'm not going anywhere – so WAY TO GO ANA! Not many men would be like an open book to a woman, and I appreciate your honesty and openness more than you'll ever know. Second, if I ran, it would be toward you, not away from you. I have the grace of a linebacker in stilettos, so it's a safe bet if I ran toward you that I'd either fall flat on my face, or run into you, knock heads, and we'd both be unconscious."

"Oh Miss Steele, don't sell yourself short on the gracefulness. Rumor has it you haven't fallen off the treadmill at the gym Sawyer takes you to. He's impressed by your determination."

"Determination does not equal grace. He's trying to teach me martial arts and how to defend myself. Not a session goes by where he's trying to get me to kick harder and faster, yet I fail and find myself being held upside down by the ankle with the big buffoon laughing his ass off at me."

"Now that I'd pay to see," I chuckle. In my head I can already see it. Sawyer towers over Ana by nearly a foot and a half. It's easy to imagine him goading her on to kick him and as she takes her best shot, he grabs her ankle and hangs her like a small side of beef. I know Luke loves to annoy her, but I really would pay money to see that.

"I do have one more question for you Christian," she mumbles nervously as she gets more comfortable on my lap. I merely nod for her to continue. "What are your expectations of this relationship? I mean I know what I want it to be, but what do you expect?"

"I've spent so much of my life being devoid of any real emotion so I'm not sure what a real relationship entails. All I know is that I want real intimacy, honesty, trust, and openness to start and to see where that leads us. I know with my past issues, I'm going to make mistakes. Okay, so probably stupid mistakes. I'm going to over-react sometimes, be an asshole sometimes, but trust me when I say, I will make every effort to not allow my past to harm this connection between us."

Those blue eyes are looking up at me adoringly. "The same goes for me and my past. I will do my best to prevent it from harming us."

"Us. I love the sound of that. Us," I whisper before bringing my lips to hers and kissing her softly at first. When I feel her body relax against mine, the kiss deepens and I feel her fingers in my hair. It's an intimate, yet hot kiss.

Her stomach grumbling followed by a typical Anastasia Steele blush interrupts the moment. "Sorry," she whispers with embarrassment.

"Did I tell you I have food issues?" I grin at her before pulling the cart closer to us. "It stems from Black Period #1. Well, that and the fact that you've lost too much weight since the day you tripped into infamy. You need to eat."

"Yes sir Mr. Grey," she mockingly salutes me before kissing me again quickly.

I could get used to this. I place a bagel on her plate, add cream cheese and lox and set it on the coffee table before her with some fruit and tea.

"How did you know how I liked my bagel?" she asks grinning from ear to ear.

"Claytons. You were sitting behind the cash register when I walked in eating your lunch. It was a bagel with cream cheese and salmon. Just the sight of you sucking the cream cheese off your fingers that day drove me wild. It was all I thought about on the way to the hotel that day."

I'd never seen her quite this shade of crimson before. "Miss Steele, are you having impure thoughts?" She turns even redder and I can't help but laugh loudly. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that exploring this connection is going to be even more than I thought it would be when I first met her.

"I've only ever had impure thoughts about you. Though if you keep this up, who knows."

Who knows? Does she mean it'll be over or does she mean acting on the impure thoughts? I feel panic building in me over the possibility it could be the former, and not the much preferred latter. My over-active brain is immediately shut down when she brings her forehead to mine, smiles and whispers, "I want this relationship to work Christian. I'm not going anywhere, but the physical side will have to move slower than you are probably used to because of my past. Let me assure you though, I've always been an apt pupil and I look forward to learning everything there is to know about - well you know, over time. Practice makes perfect after all." Then she giggles and it's music to my ears.

How can someone so pure be so fucking sexy without even trying?

We enjoyed our brunch together. The entire time she never moved from my lap. We talked about books, work, and sports. She really knows a great deal about soccer, both MLS and the European Leagues. She really does enjoy the sport. She has her favorite teams – MLS: the Sounders; EPL: she's torn between Manchester City and Arsenal; La Liga: FC Barcelona as she's a hard core Leo Messi fan, though she admits to having a soft spot for both Athetico Madrid and Real Sociedad; in the Scottish League she's a fan of Inverness CT because it's Mac's hometown team; and to my surprise, in Italian League she's not an AC Milan fan, which would have been my guess, but she's an AS Roma fan.

She also loves U.S. football, but prefers to watch all sports, with the exception of hockey, on television. Crowds make her nervous. Hockey, she explains, you just have to be there and get up close. She laughs as she explains about the games she'd been too with Ray growing up and how when the fights break out on the ice that there's something primal about it that doesn't translate on a television screen.

"So Christian," she asks as she takes the last sip of her tea. "Do you have questions for me?"

"Plenty," I tease her. "We'll take turns and I believe it's my turn."

"Agreed."

"What's your dream vacation?"

"That's a toss up between three," she laughs. "Barcelona just so I can go to the Camp Nou and watch my team play; or to visit Chichen-Itza and climb the steps but it would have to be during the spring equinox so I can see the snake; or the Lord of the Rings tour in New Zealand. Make that four – I'd like to rent a car and drive around the U.K. discovering ruins and exploring the culture that inspired those great books. And yours?"

"Just sailing around with you for a few weeks just the two of us."

"For someone who supposedly doesn't do hearts and flowers, my god you are amazing at it," she mutters before kissing me deeply. "You have so much love to give Christian it's astounding. I'm honored to be the recipient. I hope you know, you have mine as well."

"So you're mine," I sigh contently before kissing her deeply for a moment.

"No Christian. This is ours. Ours," she counters breathlessly as the kiss begins anew. Ours – somehow that sounds even better than mine. This relationship is ours. It's fucking perfect.

Author's Note: To the reviewers. I thank you! I'm glad you are enjoying the story so far.