Chapter 6

Ana PoV

He was kissing me! His lips were on mine; his body mere inches away and I wasn't freaking out. After a second or two I kissed back, pressing my lips back against his, leaning forward slightly. I was thankful that my heels made me almost eye-level with him. My hand found his free one and I intertwined my fingers with his. I parted my lips slightly, inviting him in.

His tongue snuck out, licking my bottom lip before entering my mouth. He moaned as our tongues found each other. I had no idea if I was doing this right, but I'd seen enough movies, and Christian seemed to like it. Part of me wanted to press my whole body against his, but the stronger part was terrified to do so.

After a few minutes of the blissful paradise, he pulled away, panting heavily. "We'd better stop before I cross a line," he whispered, resting his forehead against mine. His thumb stroked along my jaw. Oh, so his desire was piqued, too. Good. "Goodnight Anastasia." He kissed me chastely, then kissed my forehead. I blinked, and he was gone.

I stood in the foyer in a daze. He was like a drug and I wanted more. A lot more.

My first kiss. Holy shit! My first kiss! It might be a bit sad that I didn't have my first kiss until I was 26, but for the most part, I was terrified of any kind of intimacy or affection. I'd let Christian touch me more than I'd ever let anyone in my life. I wasn't afraid when he was near. Perhaps it was because I knew he felt the same way as me, so he knew to be very gentle and careful with me. But then again, I felt that way before I knew he was like me.

My head was swimming with a million different sensations. One of them was most definitely lust and desire. Without a doubt, I knew what those felt like now. I also felt an overwhelming sadness for the little boy that was raised in almost the same kind of household as me. Crack vs. Heroine and Meth. But both whores. Both with abusive boyfriends and pimps. Both who neglected us to the point of severe malnourishment. Both who committed suicide.

Christian Grey and I were cut from the same cloth. But where he channeled his feelings into control and anger, I was just afraid of everything. Sure, I'd come out of my shell on some things. I was no longer a total hermit; I ventured out and did fun things like biking, skiing, hiking, and the like. But as far as human interaction, I kept myself in a bubble, never letting anyone close to me. Christian was similar, only I went to the extreme of not even letting anyone physically close to me. He did, but emotionally, he was as closed off as I was.

This was our chance to fix that aspect of ourselves. We needed to be one hundred percent honest with each other if anything had any hope of working between us. Flynn was right. This was not only an opportunity to fix my own issues, and possibly find love; I could help fix Christian, too. We were broken, for far too long, and I believed that we both had finally found that one piece that would finish the puzzle.

At least, that was what I hoped would happen. Hopes and reality were not mutually inclusive.

As I stood in the foyer, Kate barreled in the house, on a rampage. "Whoa, Kate. Where's the fire?" I asked.

"Elliot Grey is a dead man," she hissed.

"What? Why? What did he do?"

"He neglected to inform me that he has a girlfriend! He was all over me the other night, has been sending me sexy and lovey-dovey text messages all weekend and all day today. And then what happens? I happen to see him out at dinner with a leggy brunette. I corner her in the bathroom and she says she's his girlfriend. What the hell?"

"Did you talk to Elliot about it?" I asked.

"No, and I won't." God she was so young sometimes. Usually she acts way older than her 21 years, but sometimes, her youth shows.

"Kate, I know I have a very limited amount of knowledge when it comes to dating, but I think you shouldn't take some random bimbo's words so seriously. She might have seen you as competition and lied. Women lie. A lot. If I were you, I'd ask Elliot about it. Try not to come off as pissed off and jealous. But mention that you saw him at the restaurant. If he volunteers that he was there with a woman, then it's more likely that she's a friend or business colleague. If he gets all evasive, then she's probably more than that."

"Y'know Ana. For someone who has zero experience with the male of the species, you certainly can figure them out," she replied. I blushed. "Why are you blushing?"

"Um, I wouldn't say zero experience," I said to my shoes.

"What? Who? When? Where? What happened?" she demanded. As she looked past me into the kitchen, she saw the two place settings from dinner. Then she turned her head towards the living room and saw the two dishes from the soufflés. "Who did you have over? Ana! Tell me!"

"Christian Grey," I whispered.

"What?! I thought you weren't going out until Friday."

"That is still the plan, but we decided to have an impromptu dinner here tonight. We ate, we chatted, we kissed, and then he left."

"You kissed?! What? That was your first kiss, right? Holy shit, Ana! Tell me everything!" She grabbed my hands and began dancing around the foyer. I concentrated on not falling down.

"Well, I have no basis for comparison, but if a kiss makes you tingle all over and go weak in the knees, I assume it's a good one."

"Oh god yes," Kate agreed. "So you're going out again on Friday? Did he pick a restaurant?"

"No, we're having dinner at his place," I replied.

"Wow, Ana. I can't believe you're finally entering the dating game. And with one of the hottest guys on the planet. You be careful though. He might be a player or something. Though Elliot seemed to think he was gay. I guess he's never had a girlfriend. Not that the family has known about anyway."

"He's very private with his relationships," I say, defending Christian. "Truth be told, he and I have a lot in common."

"Like what?" she asked, always a glutton for information.

"Like we share a mutual desire to keep our lives private, little sister," I admonished. "It's late. I'm going to bed." I walked away without another word, hoping she'd leave the subject be. At least until I figured things out with him. I hoped our dinner on Friday would clear the air. Kate strode off towards her room, already dialing Elliot's number on the way. I hope she worked it out with him; I knew how much she liked him. Hell, she pined for him for years.

Just as I slipped into bed, I heard my phone buzz with an incoming message. Christian's name lit up on the screen, making me smile instantly.

Christian PoV

The shock subsided and rage filtered its way in, as I drove home to Escala. How could anyone do that to my beautiful Anastasia? I knew she had the scars on her wrists from something. I listened to her words, absorbing them, but not reacting to them right away. The moment she said her mother beat her, I was instantly glad the woman was dead. No child deserved that kind of treatment, least of all my Ana. I was already referring to her as mine, though she hadn't signed any contract that made her so. Perhaps there wouldn't even be a contract.

What a novel thought. Christian Grey, Dom extraordinaire having a normal relationship. Dinners and dates and the like. Flynn was going to go ape shit over this. Not to mention how my parents would react.

As I drove, I dialed Welch, my security officer.

"Welch," he answered.

"Welch, it's Grey. I need you to find some information for me," I told him.

"Sure boss, what do you need?"

"Anything you can find on Anastasia Steele. CEO of Steele Designs," I reply.

"Hostile takeover, sir?" he jokes.

"Nothing like that. I'm just trying to figure her out. If you can find any specific information about her birth parents, that'd be most helpful. She was adopted at the age of five, along with her younger brother and sister. Her mother killed herself shortly after giving birth to her sister. Any information you can find, Welch."

"Sure thing, boss. I'm on it." I hung up the phone, knowing he'd scour the globe for any shred of information.

I was determined to find every last one of her birth mother's tricks, boyfriends, and pimps and ensure they all were rotting away in prison or in hell.

Once I reached home, I texted my Anastasia from the elevator.

I'm home now. Thought you'd like to know. And that kiss was… something else.

Almost immediately there was a reply.

Agreed, Mr. Grey. "Something else" doesn't begin to describe it. I'm tingly all over.

I'm all tucked in to bed now.

Oh how jealous I was of her bedding.

Sounds lovely. I'll be doing the same shortly. I had a wonderful evening, Anastasia. I can't wait to get to know you better, and see you this Friday night. It seems so far away.

Again, her reply was instantaneous.

Perhaps we can do lunch or something before then? Like on Wednesday?

She was a genius.

Yes, that's a fantastic idea. I'll look at my schedule and let you know what time works. Goodnight my sweet Anastasia.

Finally, Wednesday arrived and I was meeting Anastasia at a delicatessen that lied between her work and mine. It was a short walk for the both of us. With it being such a lovely day, I decided to leave a few minutes early and meet her at the Steele building, so we could walk together. Once I reached the outside, it appeared that she had a similar idea, as she was less than half a block away.

She looked ravishing in a twirly brown skirt with a turquoise blouse. Over it she wore a brown cardigan that had accents around the collar of what I imagined were real turquoise beads. Her shoes were brown leather, also with the turquoise stones embedded into them. Her hair was in a low pony tail, secured on the side of her neck, her long locks draping over one shoulder and curling just above her breast. The whole outfit had to be custom designed. I watched as the wind would slightly pick up, lifting her skirt, a la Marilyn Monroe in Seven Year Itch, allowing me to see more of her creamy thighs. Not enough wind to make her need to hold her skirt down, but just enough to give me a glimpse.

"Hi," she murmured, blushing.

"Hello, Miss Steele," I greeted, taking her hand and kissing the back of it. She then stepped toward me, leaned up and kissed my cheek. The sensation spread all over my body. I'd never let a woman do that before her. And I liked it. A lot. "You look lovely. Is this a custom made outfit?" I asked.

"Yes, Kate made it for me. I love these two colors together, so she went to town."

"I'll have to pass my compliments onto her, then. The turquoise brings out the lovely shades in your hair and your eyes." Her icy blue eyes almost changed to turquoise next to the stones. I reached up and grasped a strand of her hair that had worked its way free of her pony tail, and tucked it behind her ear. She blushed furiously.

"Looks like we had a similar thought, with walking together, eh? I over estimated on how long it would take me to walk here. I'm usually slower in heels, but these aren't very high," she rambled. I glanced down at her shoes, noting the three inch heels in place of her five inchers from a couple nights before.

"Don't your shoes make your feet hurt to walk such a distance?" I asked. Women complained all the time about how painful high heels were. The higher the worse, apparently. I appreciated heels, so I never suggested they not wear them. I just loved what they did to a woman's legs and ass. Not that Anastasia needed any help in either department, but they certainly didn't hurt anything.

She shrugged. "Not as bad as other things do." I couldn't disagree with her there. Some pains were so horrible, you learn to compare every other kind of hurt to them, and find you can endure things that would make most people cringe and cry.

I took her hand in mine and together we walked towards the deli. She prattled on about her latest client, and what a pain in the ass she was being. "First she wants all hardwood, then she wants repurposed wood, then she wants carpet, then she wants concrete painted to look like wood. The woman can't make up her mind, and I can't keep ordering custom supplies only to send them back. I'm about to take her over my knee."

I choked on the air I was breathing. "What did you say?"

"About taking her over my knee? Well, she's acting like a petulant demanding child. And isn't spanking the best way to deal with that? I mean honestly, the woman needs something like that." I shook my head, smiling at her. How did she always know what to say to surprise me?

I think of what I'd like to do to Anastasia in my playroom, involving taking her over my knee. Then I dismiss the thought. We were nowhere near that point in our relationship. If we ever did get there. I doubted she'd like being spanked. Yet anyway.

At last we reached the deli, and I held the door open for her. She thanked me shyly and headed in, her eyes darting to the vast menu board. It was one of those places where you ordered at the counter, took a number on a stand, and they brought your food out a few minutes later.

"Oh, god, I want one of everything," she said, licking her lips. I wanted to lick her lips. "It all looks and smells so good." She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath through her nose, moaning as she smelled everything. The sight and sound made my pants tighten.

"I'm glad you have a hearty appetite," I told her, pulling my eyes away from her luscious lips and back to her beautiful blue eyes.

"I know what it's like to be deathly hungry," she replied, shrugging. "I imagine you do, too. It makes you look at food in a completely different way." Once again, she'd taken the thoughts right out of my head.

"My thoughts exactly. What would you like?" I asked, gesturing to the menu board. "You could get one of everything, though I don't know where you'd put it." I gazed at her slender frame, not bothering to hide my ogling. I wanted her to know she was wanted.

"Is that a challenge, Mr. Grey?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow at me. "I have an abnormally fast metabolism, so I have to eat a lot. I'm one of those 'she eats whatever she wants and stays skinny' people. My college friends hated that about me. While they all gained their freshman fifteen, I stayed the same, and ate more than all of them."

"Yes, women and their body image issues," I muttered. She rolled her eyes at me. Oh I'd like to spank her for that.

"I don't have body image issues," she retorted. "I couldn't care less if I was a size two or twenty-two. As long as I'm healthy and have enough to eat, I'm fine." Oh, I admired that about her. She stepped up to the counter and the young man behind it checked her out, his eyes raking up and down her body. I glared at him, and as soon as he caught a glimpse of me, he quickly looked down at his screen, never looking at Anastasia again.

"I'll have the pastrami on marble rye with Swiss cheese," she began. "And a side of the seasoned waffle fries with ranch dressing. A side salad with French and blue cheese on the side, and one of those peanut butter brownie bars. Christian?" She gestured for me to add my order.

"I'll have the roast turkey Reuben sandwich, with the waffle fries and a salad with thousand island dressing. And a slice of the apple pie," I stated.

"Very well, anything else, sir? Ma'am?" the boy asked. We both shook our heads. "Okay, well your total is thirty-two seventy six." He looked back and forth between the two of us trying to figure out who would pay. I handed him a fifty dollar bill before Anastasia could fish her wallet out of her purse. She scowled at me, but I simply shrugged in return, smirking at her.

The cashier handed me the change which I promptly dropped in the tip jar. Despite him ogling my Anastasia, he took our orders quickly and efficiently. And if I wasn't mistaken, that tip jar was split among all the employees at the deli. I'd be sure to leave another few dollars on the table after we finished.

Anastasia grabbed the stand that displayed our order number and walked away to select a table. There was an empty one towards the back of the deli that was relatively secluded. She sat down, placed the stand at the edge of the table and set up her place setting with the provided napkin and silverware basket.

A few minutes later, the same boy from behind the counter arrived with our food. He placed the plates on the table, ensured we had all we need and retreated back to his post at the register. I noticed that he didn't make eye contact with Anastasia once. Good man. He learned. She was mine.

My Anastasia dug into her salad with fervor, as if she hadn't eaten in days. "Didn't you have breakfast?" I asked. If she said no, I'd be a bit irritated. I wouldn't have her skipping meals.

She blushed, realizing she wasn't being very lady-like with her manners. Not that I cared in the slightest. "Of course I did. Pancakes, eggs, bacon and a big ol' glass of orange juice. Like I said, I have an abnormally fast metabolism, so I have to eat a lot.

"I think we both have the same issues with hunger, so you can trust me when I say I will never ever skip a meal. I did enough of that when I was little, to last a lifetime. That's probably why my metabolism is so ridiculous. It's trying to make up for years of never having enough to eat," she joked. We both knew that wasn't how metabolisms worked.

"About Friday night," I began.

"You're not canceling on me, are you?" she replied, cutting me off.

"Of course not, Anastasia. Let me finish," I scolded. "I was just going to ask what you'd like to eat, and if you like anything other than ice water for a beverage."

"Sweet tea is my favorite, but only if it's made properly," she replied. "I'd be happy to make it myself when I come over. So few people know how unless they're from the south."

"Are you from the south?" I asked. Welch still hadn't gotten all the info I requested. Apparently it was under lots of layers he had to sift through.

"Yes, North Carolina," she replied. "The Steeles adopted us from there, and we lived there for a few years before moving to Seattle for my dad's job."

"And the rest is history?" I added.

"As they say," she quipped, making me chuckle.

We both dug into our food then, and didn't take time for conversation as we ate. Surprisingly, she cleaned her plate before I did, and was biting into her peanut butter brownie as if it was made of gold. A bit of chocolate stuck on the corner of her mouth, and I watched as her tongue darted out to get it. Oh the wonderful things I bet she could do with that tongue.

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, trying to accommodate my pants getting impossibly tighter. I was responding to her like a horny school boy, and I didn't even care. She was pure sexy, and she didn't even realize it.

Shortly thereafter, I walked her back to Steele Designs, planted a chaste kiss on her lips and promised to see her two days later.