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BETA: Halo140 and pusher Stargazer93

CHAPTER FIVE

MY NAILS CLAWED my pounding skull. The very scratching was splitting my head into a million pieces, I'm sure this was karma kicking my ass from the previous night's entertainment. Pinching my eyes to small slits, my long lashes did nothing to shade my sight. No matter how still I was, I felt the world of pain, the struggles of overindulgence. With one eye barely squinting, I found a familiar alarm clock, empty beer bottles, and individual playing cards. As I rolled over cursing myself for the movement I was surprised to find an unconscious Christian Grey.

Flipping back the crumpled sheet, a sigh of relief escaped as my clothing remained. I didn't hesitate to check the other occupant of the bed. Clothed. If boxers count as clothing. He was on his stomach with a single leg hanging over the edge of the bed as his other leg was hooked at an angle. Those black boxers nestled in the crack of his ass, giving his left cheek a bare show.

'How is this my life?' I mumbled to myself, falling into the pillows, bunching the sheet under my chin. "This is not real!"

Unsure of the extent of last night shenanigans, there were gumnuts rolling on the mattress and leaves stuck in my hair. None of these bizarre things add up, or remotely relieve my hazy memory. Usually, my only cure for a deadly hangover would be an AA-Bomb, but I doubt Christian stocks chia seeds, Greek yogurt or kale. So no smoothie this morning, my option is freshly brewed tea.

Sliding to the edge of the bed, every movement caused the springs to squeaked. Thankfully when I was on solid ground, the sleeping giant remained still.

In the kitchen, I put water on the stove to boil as Christian had done for me last night. Now, if I only knew what the hell happened.

Oh dear lord! Poker.

"Well if you're going to play for strips, we should stay on the bed," Christian patted the mattress, then whipping his hand up to the heavens for a democratic vote.

How could I deny the man, and my own hand followed his.

"Sure," I stated, as he counted the two votes.

What did I have to lose?

"Yassss!" he hissed as his musky drunken breath blew in my direction.

Christian's brows knitted together and forehead creased, as he shuffled the deck. His attentiveness rivaled top heart surgeons. Unlike cardiologists they didn't slip, releasing their vital instruments. In this , he stumbled dropping cards everywhere. Even though we are both intoxicated, I was grateful we would spend the night together. Thank you destiny. Of course for research purposes, well that's what I keep reminding myself.

Restocking our provisions for the rest of the night. The copious liters of alcohol and anything resembling carbohydrates sat near his alarm clock.

I had a sneaky suspicion Christian helped himself dealing with a cheating hand. My cards were mediocre at best. No matter how much re-arranging I needed a strategy. Fortunately, the first game was on my side, as well as luck. I won by a slim margin in a full house. Face cards were my only advantage in this round.

"I thought you said you were shit at poker?" Christian said.

"Did I?" I laughed, but eager for the next step gesturing to his neck to navel, "Now lose the shirt mister," I blew a kiss, boasting something chronic.

He was correct. I usually am terrible at poker, but I didn't need to give way too much. We must remember a poker face, wins all.

Sipping his beer, Christian tried to hide his smile, as I ogled his naked chest and quickly hiding behind my handful of cards.

"My turn to deal Mr Grey," I fluttered my lashes, as he pushed the remaining deck in my direction.

Shuffling the cards, I glanced up and smiled. His grey eyes were reflecting over my blue. Despite his rough exterior, I found his dominating presence appealing. If he were cleanly shaven and a new hairstyle, perhaps I could consider him handsome. Ok who was I trying to fool, the man was absolutely gorgeous.

I must have been staring for quite some time because his smile disappeared, "What?" I squeaked.

"Nothing." he crossed his arms, tapping his index finger on his bicep.

Shit, Shit, Shit.

Deal the damn cards, Ana!

"You were staring Ana." his voice sang.

"I know." I weakly replied as I dealt the cards in record time.

"May I ask why?"

He had to press, and it was a difficult question to answer. I couldn't admit I find him intriguing, and drool at his underlying features like those rippling abs. So I said the first thing which escaped my mouth filter.

"I'm committing you to memory… Damn those abs, I doubt you'll let me take a photo." I groaned.

He immediately frowned, "My abs? Is this relating to your article you are persisting to write?"

Biting my lip, I refused to answer. Instead, I double and triple checked my hand, while I waited for his first move.

Luck didn't play through and the second game proved a win for Christian. Bastard. So for his convenience, I lost my shirt too. Thank God I decided to wear a bra.

"Tie-breaker?" he suggested.

"Of course." I nodded.

After shuffling the deck, with more grace this time, his strong hands dealt us five cards each.

"Do you do anything special around here for Christmas?" I asked, cupping my cards close to my face.

Frowning again, he glanced at me above his hand of cards. "We're in the Southern Hemisphere Miss Steele, of course, they do things differently. Why... what's brewing in that little head of yours?" he said while arranging his cards.

"It's on my mind since there was a dusting of snow in Seattle as I left. Stores are lining their windows and walls with Christmas cheer and the carols are in an endless loop." smiling at the thought of holiday music.

"America is a festive nation," he stated, "I suppose you go all out for the holidays?"

"Of course." I silently prayed to the Gods because this hand was utter garbage, and I needed to win. I wanted to see Christian's boxers on the floor. "I live alone, and my apartment looks like a Christmas store on crack! What about you?"

He finished placing his royal flush down on his patchwork blanket. Cringing, as I knew there was no way I could defeat that winning hand.

What was he going to ask me to remove?

He seemed surprised, "If you're digging for information, you can stop now."

"I wasn't, I swear." holding my hands up in defeat.

For once I wasn't digging for information. I love Christian… I mean I love Christmas. Oh God, I need more beer.

"Remember I'm Ana right now, not reporter Steele, for Seattle Daily." grinning while I gave the Girl Scout salute. Why is everything I asked seem suspicious? "Your home is a little bare. For starters, you don't have a tree, only one decoration, if you count that crystal snowflake." I flicked my head towards the direction of the sitting room.

"Ana, you're pushing again. In all seriousness, I live in Kakadu country. It's a little hard finding suitable pine to vomit Christmas cheer."

Knowing the ass, his middle name is probably Scrooge and Christmas gives him palpitations.

"You don't give a rats ass, do you?" crossing my arms pissed at the man.

"Who doesn't love Christmas?" he winked.

"You don't for starters… Scrooge." I blurted.

"Right! I see you have me all wrong, it's a great time of year. Sometimes I join Tales in Katherine or spend a few weeks with friends in Darwin. It's not all sad Miss Steele."

It made me feel better knowing he wouldn't be alone, but why would he stay out here in remoteness.

"Good." I nodded.

"Good?" he repeated.

"Yes. I would hate the thought of you spending Christmas alone. Out here is quite hot and isolating."

He grinned as if my comment amused him. "Despite what you think, I enjoy my own company, but I have a real life too. I live a good part of the time here, and the rest further north in my apartment."

"You do?" shocked by his confession, "But how do you support yourself? I mean… well, before your writing."

"I have all the work I want online, well away from face-to-face contact." Christian grimaced as if he'd said far more than he wanted. "Forget I said that, imagine I'm a plumber or handy guy of sorts." Christian wiggled his hands in front of my face, hoping I would ignore his admission.

With a change in the air and rumbles of thunder in the distance, his hands cupped my cheeks. All my playfulness escaped, not wanting to breathe in case I missed something crucial.

"Hey," he released my cheeks, and our moment was severed, "now let me see those cards." Christian panted.

I placed all five cards down on the mattress, "Just as I thought, take it off… missy," he winked.

Bastard.

"What exactly?" I stated, looking down at my bra, and the oversized boxers.

His two words were all it took to make me melt, "It all."

The water bubbled out of the pot, hissing on the hot plate as it woke me from my faint memory.

"Shit!" I jeered, quickly removing it.

Once I found a clean mug, I attempted my morning routine. The perfect brew.

"Are you alright Ana, you kind of zoned out for a bit there?" a deep husky voice called in the kitchen.

"Jesus Christ!"

My hand rested on my thumping heart as it tried escaping my rib cage. I was thankful I wasn't holding the mug at this point as it would be all over myself and the floor. I couldn't comprehend exactly what was taking place as I stared at Christian.

"You're dressed?" my voice faltered, studying that he's no longer in underwear, rather clothes of a man on a mission to head outdoors.

"Of course, it's close to midday. Is there a particular reason why your mouth is this wide open?" his palm flexed demonstrating my mouth, "You'll choke on a fly if you're not careful." He smiled and I instantly clamped my mouth shut.

I looked at the cup, slapping my forehead as I quickly made him a cup too. How rude, I helped myself and didn't think to make him one.

"Ana, it's fine. I don't want tea," he said.

I was on automatic, I was at a lost with what took place last night. Poker... strip poker… which led to removing it all.

"Did we have sex last night?" I blurted out and in no time my face was straight into my mug sculling the scalding tea.

"I don't think so," he scratched his head, moving his hands down the scruff on his face, "Why would you get that impression?" but there was a small smirk on his face.

"Well because I… a…" I was at a disadvantage, he remembered and I had alcohol-induced amnesia.

"You passed out and looked very comfortable in my bed. So I didn't have the heart to move you." Well, that was a relief, "Ana I solemnly swear I did not have sex with you." If he was trying to convince me smirking wasn't helping.

Why is this affecting me? Why am I making such a big deal over it? Jesus Ana, get a fucking grip. You know the rule, don't fuck the headline and you didn't. Great work, your vagina isn't tainted.

"No, I believe you." My reply was weak.

We must have kissed, but there is this added tension which wasn't there before.

"Earth to Ana?" a click of his fingers woke me from my downward spiral of my ridiculous hungover thought.

"Ah.. yeah." and I quickly gulped more tea.

"So, do you want the good news?" he smiled.

"There's news… and only good?" I had to admitted I was confused.

"The rains have stopped and Tales is making his way through sometime tomorrow morning." I sank. He was wanting me gone, but I don't think I was ready to leave.

"Oh." I sighed.

"Hey, this is good news. I can get back to my writing and you can get back to your work in Seattle."

Sipping on my hot brew, it had been playing on my mind. "Do you have a working phone by any chance? Mine has zero coverage."

"Yeah of course," he stretched and his tank top lifted so I could catch that snail trail below his navel.

I gulped at my imagination of what possibly lived below those hairs, sweet baby Jesus. I need more tea.

"Ana," he asked, where I could only manage a weak nod. "you might want to wipe your face, you're drooling." My hand touched my face, rubbing at the skin only to find it was dry.

Bastard.

"Well…" He fucking knew I was watching him, "My mother is probably worried about me," I said, "I told her I'd phone, and I haven't." It had been close to two days since she's heard from me. The police report is probably filed in triplicate.

"Satellite is the only option, and it isn't cheap." He raised his voice and tapped his fingers on the wall.

"Christian," I placed a hand on my hip, "you've sold over 1 million books I doubt money is an issue."

"It's very expensive." his stare bored into my eyes.

"Fine, whatever," I waved my hands over my face, "I'll pay the charges owed, I won't blabber and keep it short."

"Better." he smiled, which lit up his whole face, "Having you out of my hair by morning would be payment enough."

Asshole. Bastard. Prick.

My face lowered, how can he be so hot and cold. All these emotions are causing me whiplash. "Ouch. I thought we were getting along, friend." And I believed we turned a new leaf last night, from what I could remember.

Christian walked over to me, scuffing my hair, laughing the word, "Friends." And left with a wink.

What the hell? Nope, he is too much effort.

Christian showed me how to operate the phone at his desk. It took a moment for the line to connect, and when it did, Momma answered.

"It's me, Ana. I don't have a lot of time." Mom called out to Dad, 'it's our Annie on the phone', but I didn't have time to stop, I was on very expensive satellite rates. "Mom I'm in Australia."

"Austria?"

"Mom, Aust-ral-ia."

"Sorry dear the line is a little fuzzy, oh your father and I have been concerned. I was minutes away from contacting the police." I bit the inside of my cheek, knowing my mother too well.

"I know, Mom. I'll explain everything when I'm home." I turned to see Christian playing with GT on the floor, and I couldn't take my eyes off them.

"Where in Australia?"

"Outside Katherine, it's up in northern Australia." If I said anything more, I would have more questions, and then more after that.

"You found the author?" Her voice began to rise in pitch and I knew if I didn't rein in the conversation it was going to cost me my livelihood.

"Mom, I need to go."

"Okay, okay, but I'm going to want a full report when you're back. Do you think you could manage an autograph for your mother?"

"Autograph?" the sound of Christian laughter broke my concentration, "Hey I'm not sure, the author is a bit of an asshole." Seeing Christians smile turn into a pouty frown was not what I was expecting. "Anyways tell Dad he should have taught me better at poker."

"What?"

"Never mind, I've really got to go Mom."

Ending the call I returned Christian's phone to the desk. When I turned around, both Christian and GT were standing at the screen door.

"You're leaving?" I squeaked. It was his backpack and hat which gave it away.

"I need to check if the roads are safe for Tales." his enthusiasm to leave isn't thrilling, "I won't be gone long."

At the door, Christian hesitated. "You'll be all right for a while?"

Surprised by his concern, I couldn't speak, only smile. We held our stare like we both wanted to say something further, but silence was our answer and he went on his merry way with GT by his side.

…..

THIS SECLUSION WAS a blessing in disguise as it gave me time to tackle the article. The instant Christian and GT were out the door, I furrowed for my laptop. Even though the night before was sketchy it didn't take long to arrange my hazy thoughts. My research had given enough research, for a compelling piece about the mysterious best selling author Christian Grey.

Unsure of the time frame I had, my fingers rushed over the keys, working through a meaningful draft. Seeing the words on the screen gave me a sense of achievement after this whirlwind adventure.

The feature was fair. Currently far from flattering, but these things happen if the central figure was a giving me the cues as an A grade asshole.

Time disappeared quickly, and since I didn't know the timeline I had, I tucked my laptop back into my suitcase.

With the article out of sight, I was instantly bored. The idea of having Wifi or a television was high on the agenda. His bursting bookshelves were my only place for pleasure. The titles were all bestsellers, and I was flabbergasted seeing Fifty Shades of Grey among them.

Opening the hardback, I was pleasantly surprised to see a handwritten message from the author EL James. Sliding it back on the shelf, I check another and another… all signed, all with personalized messages.

What the hell? Does he know every best selling author?

I had little interest in those novels, and my brilliant idea emerged. Involving my notepad and makeup bag. I selected a few items, my nail scissors, iridescent eye-shadows, and creamy highlighters. Once my idea was designed, cut and added with a shimmery shine, I still needed something to hang them on. The kitchen seemed fruitful in my finds with twine and clothes pegs.

Standing barefoot, still in last night's sleepwear I tied the twine around his home. This was mostly above my height near the uneven ceilings, dilapidated window frames, and decrepit doorways.

Giving myself a complimentary pat on the back, I had my doubts, but I believe I pulled it off.

"Now that's more like it. Anastasia bringing a Winter Christmas to the Kakadu."

The doubt never left my mind, as Christian won't appreciate my efforts of snowflakes; yet, I wasn't going to let his sour attitude stop my Christmas cheer.

Fixing the final placements, I stood on my tippy toes near the front of the sitting room. Stretching my arms above my head, I struggled to reach the perfect spot.

A howl in the distance alerted me they were back. Finishing the final snowflake, a large bark startled me. Trying to gain my balance on the rickety chair, there was nothing to grab ahold of. It was hearing my name from Christian's booming voice, knowing that I was done for. He raced to me as I was toppling from the perch of his chair. I felt gravity take hold.

Holy shit!

Two large hands caught my fall as I landed with a masculine thud beneath me.

My hair was tangled over my face, and as I pulled back my curls, there below me was a grimacing Christian. Our bodies were pressed hard against each other. For a wild moment, all we did was stare at each other.

My pulse flourished, as I only managed a wheezy gasp of excitement. Christian's eyes darted either side of my throat, and I grew stiff. Instantly he sensed my reaction, wrapping his arms around me further, refusing for any release.

His gaze continued to travel from the throbbing pulse in my neck to my lips. My mouth parted slowly closing my eyes, releasing a heavy breath I waited for a hope that his lips will touch mine.

Nothing.

"Ana—" hearing my name my face dropped into his chest embarrassed that I read him all wrong. Christian squirmed beneath me, and I didn't read him wrong after all as his length pushed into my belly.

Well, why in hell wasn't he pursuing it?

Christian coughed, "Miss Steele were you trying to organize a death wish standing on those chairs, or just my own?" he panted, while pointing at the upturned chair, now a tripod, with a broken leg on the floor.

As Christian released me, we both scurried apart.

"What have you done?" he wailed. I would have hoped he admired my efforts, rather demanding an explanation.

"What?" crossing my arms in defiance, I wasn't sure why he was upset, they were paper snowflakes covered in shimmery makeup, not a house restoration.

"This!" he pointed at the ceiling.

"Oh, yeah. That," I shrugged, continuing to mimic his pointing gesture. "I thought you needed a little holiday spirit in this stifling place."

The frown blasted on his face wasn't what I was expecting. Were my thrifty efforts truly in the line of disappointment and angry behavior. Was it that bad?

"Ok, Mr Grey, you're already making me second guess my snowflake abilities. Please, don't look at me in that way, I can feel the lasers burning my corneas. If me a second and I'll take them down."

His retort was rigid, "Risking you breaking your neck for the second time, not on my watch. I was going to suggest..." he turned to his shelves. I knew exactly what he was trying to find. His crystal snowflake. "Where is it?" The panic was in his voice bellowed.

I nodded towards the window, and all we needed to do was wait for the afternoon sun to reflect light through it.

"How did you do this all?" he looked at his wrist, "In an hour?"

"Actually it was close to four," I firmed stated.

"You kept a tab on me."

"Well, of course, I was…"

"Alone?"

"Yes, but it was more defined as boredom." I spun around the room, proud of my handy work, "It reminds me of your mother's place, she's obsessed with snowflakes." I pressed.

Christian's lips remained closed, shutting his eyes.

"I'll make us something for dinner." he changed the subject.

"Vegemite?" I snorted.

"No, damper, meat pies, some peas and…" he walked into the kitchen and the reminiscing sound of clinking bottles filled my ears, "beer. I have a stash of red wine, I'm hoping the heat hasn't turned it into vinegar."

The hot sun lowered on the horizon, sweat ran down my spine as flies tickled my skin. As the daylight hours disappeared we both continued to comply a makeshift meal together.

Christian removed a tattered book from his shelves and showed me the recipe. My hands pressed into a prayer position, thanking the Gods. It was simple. In the past, I've always had difficulties when it came to mixing more than water to a meal. Christian retrieved frozen goods from his deep freezer I had never noticed before.

It was strange, us both domesticated in a kitchen with no arguments or emotional whiplash. Our previous sensual awkwardness was under the bridge, pretending was the key. I was more eager as I'd practically begged the guy to kiss me.

As our meal cooked, the scent of beef and biscuits filled his home. With one chair down, we resorted to eating on the coffee table and sitting on the floor. It was perfect as the room was painted with rainbows of light by his crystal snowflake.

"Wine?" he asked, pointing the bottle to me as I read the label. Penfold's Grange.

"You've been holding out. Yes fucking please." I licked my lips, dying to drink something which didn't resemble the taste of urine.

He set the wine bottle in the middle of the table. "Fingers crossed it's not vinegar," which I did as he asked crossing my legs for good measure, "because it's an expensive drop." And that it was, these bottles retailed over $600 a pop depending on the vintage.

"Are we celebrating?" I asked carefree as a Christmas carol hummed on my lips.

"Yes. Tales will collect you come morning."

My heart sank, trying my best not to look disappointed, "Of course. How could I forget?" I whispered.

I pushed my meal around with a fork, unable to eat any further. A pie consisting of meat filling, ketchup on the side, disguising mushy peas, and damper. I'm assuming Australia's sad excuse for a biscuit. Was this what my life had come to? An interesting concoction, barely palatable.

Christian unscrewed the cork letting the wine breathe. His nostrils flared engulfing the aromas. A simple twist to his wrist he began pouring the ruby liquid into our glasses.

"A toast?" he announced as he curled the lip of the bottle. His long finger wiped the remnants and sucked it dry releasing his finger with a pop.

"And what exactly are we toasting?" I asked, pressing the brim of our glasses together.

"To isolation and strip poker," he suggested. "rematch Ana?" His brows rose.

"Oh God, the strip poker," I groaned as my face fell into my hands.

How did I forget? As I raised my head Christian was smiling and I couldn't help but do the same.

Our stare held for a deep moment. This was the heightening awareness I tried to deny all afternoon, it was far from being eradicated by common sense. It was blooming in my mind and chest.

I needed wine, even though it was hazing my clear thoughts. The purpose of being here is being compromised. You are here for the interview and bettering your career. Do not get all doe eyes for the headline.

Do not fuck him. Use that head correctly, not your vagina!

I guzzled more wine, contemplating, I had what I needed. The article was close to completion, and once the article was in Lincoln's hands, Christian Grey would be nothing more than words on a page.

Shit.

"I need a distraction, or I'm going to embarrass myself if I keep drinking at this pace," I said.

"Please don't stop for my own benefit." he pouted and began sipping his own glass.

"Poker?" I suggested.

"Strip?" Christian winked.

"Fine!" I flicked my head back in defeat knowing this is going to end badly.