Chapter 9

"I...umm...I think I need to sit down," Ana whispered. His eyes were dark, crazy. She almost lost all feeling in her legs as she stared into his gray orbs. The ring box looked odd in his hand, and he held it so awkwardly that the sight clouded her mind.

Ana felt around for the bed, her hands outstretched, her mind foggy in the dim lighting of the room. Expectation was resting upon her shoulders, a weight she had never anticipated. God. Her wedding night. She had no idea what she was doing. She wasn't confident or prepared. She didn't have anything sexy to wear for him. Did Christian have protection? Will anyone hear them, or know what they're doing together in the room, all alone?

As her fingers gripped the edge of the mattress, Christian sat down beside her, and his expression softened.

"Are you okay?" he asked in a gentle whisper.

"Yeah." She wrung her hands together nervously, her palms beginning to sweat. "I just need a minute."

He glanced at her, and took in her flushed expression. She looked dazed, frazzled. All she needed was his patience. "Okay."

A long moment passed, and Christian waited. He was so hungry for her, his body wired with anticipation. But Ana's breathing was shallow and uneven. And they hadn't done anything. He guessed she had never experienced anything remotely close to the sensations love making induced. The build-up, the expectation. Her gasps of pleasure when his fingers had ventured into her hot panties that morning had been love notes of shock and surprise. She really had no idea.

"This is really happening, isn't it?" Ana whispered, trying desperately to sort through her emotions. Her soft, southern drawl melted into the quietness of the room. "I mean, tomorrow morning I'm going to wake up, and I'll be your wife..."

He shook his head. "You're already my wife."

"Not legally," Ana corrected with raised eyebrows.

Christian reached for Ana's hand, and covered it with his own upon the mattress. "It won't be legal until we get back home."

She smiled softly. She was tired. It had been a long day. "I don't mean legal in terms of signing papers, Christian." His fingers spread hers upon the mattress, and their bones webbed together. "And I'm already home."

His heart was susceptible to honesty; his mind would harbour a ruining diathesis if he kept his feelings bottled up. "I have a confession to make."

She turned her head to meet his gaze. "Yes?" In her peripheral vision she spotted the ring box beside his thigh on the bed. A ring that he was waiting to put on her finger.

"You know how you found those pictures on my camera? The ones of you?" Christian reminded Ana.

She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. "Yes?"

He swallowed. "Sometimes, at night...most nights of this trip, actually...I take the camera into the bathroom with me. I just sit on the edge of the bathtub and flick through them." He felt entirely vulnerable, and she could read it in his eyes. She was selfish to appreciate his sensitivity, but it helped her to cope. "I just sit and stare at how beautiful you are. How beautiful you were that day...whatever we did the day the photo was taken. I see how happy you were. And while I scroll through the photos, I can hear you on the other side of the door. I can hear you laughing at the TV, or reorganising your suitcase for the thousandth time." His heart bled a deafening, completely rendering pain for his past self, and he attempted to hide it by not touching her, by not being entirely honest. "It sounds creepy." He shook his head. "I'm sorry."

Ana stood from the edge of the mattress, and made her way over to the corner of the room, to the backpack they had taken with them that day. She unzipped the black bag and pulled the camera out.

Christian raised his eyebrows, his expression quizzical as she turned back to him.

"I want you to take a photo of me," Ana confided, the words rushing from her lips. "On our wedding night."

She released a deep breath, and Christian swooned.

She dropped the camera into his grasp, and walked past him, to the head of the bed. He sat without turning, listening as she removed her boots. He heard one heel clunk to the floor. The other. There was ruffling, and Christian sat gazing into space. He thought about the photos. He thought about the night he had massaged her chest. He replayed the sounds she had made when he touched her.

The bed posts creaked, and Christian felt the mattress shift. When the blankets pulled slightly beneath him, he realised she was getting into bed.

He swallowed.

Outside he could hear a siren blaring in the distance. Ana was behind him, in bed. Was she naked? Had she been undressing as he sat and stared into space?

The siren neared, driving closer, and it registered in the recesses of his mind. Christian collected his thoughts. A woman he had lusted after for so long was finally ready. Christian stood and forgot the ring box beside him as he flicked the camera on. Turn around, you fumbling idiot, he cursed himself. She's waiting for you. She's being so daring.

"Are you coming to bed?"she purred, a hint of caution escaping from her lips.

He gulped. What if he disappointed her? If he couldn't hold out long enough? What if he frightened her beyond all belief?

The siren was loud, blasting, and quickly, the dim lighting of the room was illuminated in red and blue. Christian speedily stepped over to the window and glanced down to the ground outside. He watched as the ambulance pulled into the driveway below. The room spun with red and blue.

He could hear Ana mumbling and fumbling behind him. He grasped the edge of the window sill and refused to turn around. Frustration consumed him. How could they possibly make love with all of the commotion interrupting them?

"I wonder what happened," Christian supposed, searching for anything to say. They had been so close. "Maybe I should go downstairs and see if I can help with anything."

When he turned his head to glance her way, he could see the disappointment etched upon her expression as she redid the top buttons to her blouse. "I'll come with you," she whispered, attempting to cast the desire from her eyes.

"No, I'm fine. You just stay here and...umm... get comfortable," Christian trailed off.

It was an hour before Christian returned. Ana went downstairs to find him after he was gone for twenty minutes, but he was nowhere to be seen. She stepped into the closed restaurant, out onto the cottage porch. When she looked to the driveway outside, as she had seen from their room, the ambulance was definitely gone. She asked the host if he had spotted Christian, and he noted that Christian had asked where the nearest convenience store was half an hour before. And that was when she realised - Christian had gone to buy protection.

She padded up the stairs softly. The darkness of the room greeted her, and for a moment, she pondered what it would have been like to travel alone. To be lonely, always.

The small lamp on the table by the bed softly illuminated the room. Ana looked around. When he came back, the moment would be over. It was silly of them to make love when it was past midnight, after all of the disorder. It would lack passion, Ana assumed. Safer without passion, she corrected herself. But you need his longing.

There was the ring box. Where he had left it on the bed. She seemed to float above her body, watching from above as she crept around the bed and reached for the box. She flipped the lid, and appreciated the fine cut of the small diamonds, the gorgeous pearl that drew such attention from its confinement. A beautiful ring. The perfect ring. His heart was so kind, so generous. He'd love her, he'd love their children.

Ana slipped the ring onto her finger. Loose. She'd have to get it adjusted when they got home. But it was near perfect. The only ring that had ever looked right on her long, delicate fingers.

She stepped over to the window and looked out. Christian still hadn't returned. She undressed again, peeling off the layers of clothes down to her underwear, the weight of the ring reminding her that he'd come home and climb into bed with her. He'd have intentions; of course he would, he'd gone to buy protection.

She wanted to, she kept telling herself. But with a final look outside, and no car, she climbed into bed. It was late. The moment was lost. It doesn't have to be tonight.

She was oblivious to the fact that she was making excuses for herself.

And then the noises began.

Soft mews from the room next door. She stilled, and listened, she neck was stiff on the pillow. Whimpers and grunts. The couple next door were making love.

Her body was rigid in the bed. There was no way she could handle such pleasure. Her body hummed with confusion as ladylike whimpers form the room next door became moans and curses. What if that was who she would become in the throes of passion? A woman so changed and excited? Could she let Christian see her like that? So vulnerable and aroused?

Red headlights were visible through the reflection of the bathroom mirror, but Ana never saw them. Instead, she heard ecstasy explode from the room next door. And then silence.

It had been fast, Ana contemplated. Fast and loud.

The key turned in the lock, and Ana rolled over to greet Christian. His figure was tense. He was tall. She felt so small lying in bed as the low lighting cast his long shadow across the cream duvet.

"Hey," she called softly as he closed the door behind him.

"Sorry I took so long. I was umm...talking to the host downstairs," he lied softly, a blush warming his cheeks. "One of the elderly guests had chest pain. That's why the ambulance was here."

She watched as he set the small bag in his grasp down quickly.

"Uh-huh." Ana bit her lip, and sat up in the bed. He caught a flash of lilac satin covering her chest, but he turned his gaze away. "That's fine," she whispered.

He plonked himself down in the loveseat in the corner of the room. Regret was etched upon his features, and she gazed at him, feeling the weight of the covers rest against her abdomen.

She stared at him. He stared at her. They both shared a silent acknowledgement. It was troubling, knowing that she wasn't ready. He had married such a confused woman. His stunning, adorable best friend who was half naked in their bed, biting her lip so seductively.

"I'm sorry tonight wasn't what you wanted it to be," he mumbled sympathetically.

"It's okay, Christian." Her stare radiated such innocence that his desire to teach her everything he knew erupted in his blood. He got up and crawled onto the bed.

"I know how much you wanted this," she confided as he knelt before her and gathered her hands into his. She felt his gaze fall to her satin covered breasts, and quickly trail back up to meet her stare. Her breast looked so soft, so perfect. Ana sighed. "It isn't your fault, Christian."

"It's still our wedding night," he whispered quickly, his suggestive tone causing her bones to lock with trepidation.

He felt her whole body tense before him, the sensation of her fingers trembling in his. She was frightened to be with him.

"We don't have to..."Christian whispered. "It's okay."

She drew her hands from his and covered her flushed face. "I'm sorry. I was just so prepared earlier today, and now I've relaxed and had time to get used to the idea that I don't have to make love tonight, I just haven't prepared to-

He pulled back. "What did you just say?"

"I said I haven't prepared to-

"Before that...you said you didn't have to make love tonight."

"Yeah, I-"

Pain flickered through his eyes. "Ana we never have to make love..."

Her eyes widened and she shook her head wildly. "That's not what I meant, Christian." She drew a deep breath. "It's just that...I know it's going to take a lot more out of me than it will of you. There are two parts of me, one telling the truth, that I want this. The other possesses me, and although it's slowly dying and I'm doing my very best to fight it, it's still there."Oh, how he needed her to fight for him. "That's the part that makes me have to do this- to make love to you- because I need to do this for me." She held his hands tighter in her own. "Making love to you will never be a chore."

Her eyes burned with tears. He swallowed. Would he ever be enough for her? As the thought raced through his mind, she contemplated whether she would ever be able to sate the fire in his eyes. Would they always be desperate to make love? To share themselves in such delicate ways that were now so simple to them? When they had a family of their own, would the blaze burn to ashes?

His lips graced hers, and the sensation warmed her body.

Ana almost ripped his thick coat from his torso as he breathed heavily into her mouth. They panted, and his cold hands flew to her naked skin. He felt her all over, and when his hand gripped her between her legs, feeling her heat through satin panties, she gasped.

When he was naked, he carried her to the bathroom and flicked the light on. He tore her underwear from her small frame. Their kisses were long, fuelled and unfocused. She choked on each breath, and was glad to be free from his gaze. He was frighteningly intense.

When the too-hot water saturated her hair and ran over the naked arch of her back, he pushed her against tile, and slowly, they fell to the cold floor. Limbs wrapped tightly around each other as they rested together in a tangle.

His lips tasted water and her skin, so smooth. He lapped at the texture beneath his tongue. She was his. Anastasia Steele was his wife. No longer would he have to pretend.

He didn't hear her whispers of love over the spray of the shower, and with his face buried in her neck, he didn't see the tears of bewilderment travel over her cheeks. But he did feel her shaky hand reach for him between their bodies.

Her grip was soft on his arousal, trembling. They were pressed together so tightly. It felt extraordinary, delicate, and with the reassurance of not having to witness the confusion in her eyes, he let her touch him.

Memories of her first wedding night with José crashed through her mind. Guilt suffocated her. How could she give so much?

She ignored the voices in her mind, especially the wise one that old her to look into Christian's eyes to find comfort as she learnt how to pleasure her husband. But she decided she needed to do this for herself.

Ana blindly guided Christian's twitching, swollen arousal to her entrance. He couldn't stop her.

Her gaze was focused on the shower curtain behind his back. The shower wall fell grimy on her naked back. The tile felt slippery beneath her bottom. She worried about the weight of her thighs upon his as they sat cross-legged on the floor, their legs wrapped around each other. She could feel his heels against the base of her spine, pressing harder as her fingers massaged his hardness.

He didn't realise how her mind raced with distractions. They were so close, and his mind was foggy.

His tip felt warmth, and the promise was too great. He pushed, ever so slightly, but before he could press into her, she gasped a howl and collapsed her tense body against him.

Her forehead wrinkled against the soft skin between his shoulder and neck. He wrapped his arms around her completely, feeling the swell of her tiny breasts pressed against his chest.

He pulled his lower half away from her warmth, barely captured inside of her before she had cried out in distress. She clung to him as she cried. He felt her ache, knew how close she was to finally giving in. But she needed this; to cleanse herself of her past reluctance before she could commit. He had already made a promise on a cliff earlier that day. She was yet to make her own.

She needed comfort.

He needed reason.

Christian realised he could feel the smoothness of her wedding ring pressing into his neck. She had put it on.

And at that moment, as Ana wept, it was enough.

XXXX

"Mom, I really don't have time to go into detail about the last few days, but-

Christian could hear Ana's voice trailing from the gap beneath the glass door of the phone box. He leant against the side, staring in at his wife as her lips parted and closed in conversation, her brow creased in frustration. She held the payphone in her hand tightly, and Christian dreaded the day they returned to Seattle and she'd call her mother to tell the truth about what had happened.

They were on their way to Dublin that morning, the final stop of their trip. Three nights in Dublin and then it would all be over. She'd be going home a changed woman, a virgin or a lover.

But Ana had plans. After the previous night, she'd made a promise to herself. And she was adamant about keeping it.

"So, like I said, just call Christian's cell if you need me, because I don't know if I'll be able to buy a new charger within the next few days..."

Their gazes met through the glass and Christian smiled a goofy grin. Ana blushed. She tried to ignore his wink, attempted to focus on her mother's voice. But as the glass door behind her opened, and Christian stepped into the small space only made for one, uh-huh's and mmhm's, only escaped her lips. His hands were warm on her abdomen as he stroked the wool on her coat, pulling her frame against his front.

"I know. It was very silly of me to leave my charger behind." She felt his soft fingertips part her scarf at the back of her neck, in a frantic search for bare skin, and heat coursed through her blood. Christian nibbled on her neck, softly, hungrily. "I was kind of distracted, Mom." Ana peered around to see if any other drivers had stopped in the parking lot, if families with children could see the pair pressed against one another in the phone box- the desperate newlyweds who were yet to consummate their marriage.

Christian could hear Ana's mother's voice scolding his wife through the speaker. No wonder Ana put such pressure on herself. He'd find a way to relieve her distress- if she'd let him. He brushed freckles with his tongue. Her body shuddered. It was simple, low, when Christian whispered in Ana's ear, "I bet I can come up with another distraction."

Ana swallowed. Would she ever be ready to really talk about how she felt? To do the things she truly wanted to do? To say the things she desperately needed to say?

He felt her body tense, and slowly, his possessive grip on her loosened. He didn't want her to know that he knew exactly what was going on in her mind; her inner struggle to not be so perfect.

They drove barely three miles before it began to rain, and in minutes, the quickly charcoaling clouds tricked that it was midnight, for the sky darkened as rain pelted against their windshield.

Ana suggested they pull over and wait out the storm. When Christian hesitated and insisted it was okay, Ana reached for the bottle of hand sanitiser in her small purse, obviously anxious. He immediately pulled over and parked the car in a vacant shoulder of the road. How different they were. For Christian, three drops of hand sanitiser was a greater threat than the harsh rain that blurred his vision. For Ana, those three puddles on her palm were the calm in the dangerous storm.

"Should we eat lunch while we're waiting?" Ana suggested as she leant into the backseat to get their lunch from the backpack. She bent her arm between the passenger and driver seat, reaching around in a blind search for their backpack. When she turned, she realised it was out of reach.

"Don't worry, we can get it when we stop," he murmured, his focus trained on attempting to reset the GPS on the dashboard.

"No, it's okay, I'll get it."

"You can't reach-

He paid barely any attention as she undid her seatbelt and reached around. But as he leant forward to press the touch screen, her knee gently brushed his thigh in her search for balance. She was in another world, half of her body in the front seat and the other half in the backseat. She muttered to herself as he listened to the zip of their backpack- and trained his focus between the seats.

Her back was arched, her round behind almost resting beside his face. He blushed, and felt his heartbeat hammer. A grown man, an editor, a divorcee, a married man; he blushed. Like a school boy. Her jeans were tight, and the more he watched as she shifted and squirmed in search of something to eat, the tighter his jeans became and the hungrier his lust grew.

Christian closed his eyes. He gulped. When he reopened his eyes, she was still there, her body before his eyes. Her gorgeous, beautiful body that made his heart sing. He needed so much from her. He wanted so much for her. Would he ever be able to fill the expectations she had print to her heart the day they met in the break room at SIP?

When he began to turn, he shifted his gaze away. He felt guilty. Did she objectify him as he objectified her? Was her mind as clean as the mirror in her bathroom that pointed out the imperfections she was desperate to amend? Ana wanted to beautify each surface of existence. She was a clean soul; but how dirty was her conscience?

"I'm sorry I freaked out on you last night," she apologised as they nibbled on chicken sandwiches. She fixed her gaze on her lap. "I hope you aren't having any regrets."

He shrugged, and tried to meet her gaze. "You were upset," he forgave willingly, as any noble person would. She was quiet. Reserved. During the day she was always softer, less concentrated. "And I would marry you a thousand times, even if each and every marriage transcended all horror," he joked.

Ana laughed. Her eyes lit up as she licked her lips and stared into his expression. "That's actually really sweet."

Christian swallowed.

"I hope this doesn't sound arrogant," he warned. "But I didn't want to make love to you in the shower last night." The lump in his throat disappeared as he spoke the truth that had cursed them all morning. "In a way, I'm very thankful that you freaked out."

The rain softened against the windshield, and Ana felt calmer, stronger.

"Do you think we'll consummate our marriage tonight, Christian?"

He sighed.

"We'll consummate our marriage when you're ready," he defined, almost teaching himself the guidelines for being married to somebody as sensitive as Ana. "No sooner." As beautiful and alluring she is, don't give in until her eyes shine with a darkness you've never seen before.

She paused and collected her thoughts.

"When we get to Dublin, I want to stay in the room."

He shrugged nonchalantly in an act, but he knew what she meant. She couldn't know that he knew. She would put the pieces together, suspect he had expectations. That he couldn't stop his aroused mind from mulling over what it would be like to be inside her. The warmth and tightness of Ana. Fuck.

He coughed and looked out at the road ahead, watching as cars flew by their parked car, spraying puddles against their doors. "Well, it is storming, so maybe we could just have dinner at the bed and breakfast tonight, and then-

"No, I mean...this afternoon. When we get there I want to..." she stammered and felt the blush on her sternum. "I want to..."

He bit his tongue to keep from grinning. "What?" What? Think of what she'll be like; how she'll moan and whimper and squirm. You'll make her writhe.

She met his gaze. "I want to spend the afternoon in the room." Her voice was coarse.

Excitement froze him, sent a delightful cramp through his muscles. "No pressure, Ana."

She looked down to her lap. "I'm ready to feel it, Christian," she gushed, her whisper so soft and sweet. "I'm ready to open Pandora's box." Her cheeks were rose-tinted.

They were silent for a moment as he finished his sandwich. He turned the key in the ignition, and pulled back onto the highway.

He grinned softly, his eyes shining with beautiful expectation as he tried his best to focus on the road ahead, rather than the pride emanating from his wife's smile. "I'll try my best to distract you from the messiness," he promised.

He caught her stare for a second, and she thanked him with her gaze.

After a long bout of silence, he reached for the volume dial. In mid reach, her timid tone stopped him. "I've read about it," she mumbled softly. "I know there are ways to make it less messy, more traditional."

"You've read about repacking a suitcase?"

She blinked twice and watched her husband for a moment. "What?"

"This entire time I've been talking about spending the afternoon watching you rearrange my messy suitcase. What are you talking about?"

Ana grinned widely and blushed.

"Miss Steele, are you talking about sex?" he gasped with a wide, knowing smile.

Christian shook his head in mock horror and winked. He reached between the seats and grasped her hand in his.

"You won't be alone, Ana. I'll be there with you."

Her breathing shook and she willed the tears in her eyes to vanish. There was too much passion. Overwhelming passion. The need and want made her shake. Her heart was lodged in her throat.

"Promise you won't leave if things get too much?" she choked, attempting to downplay the tension that suffocated them. They were too special. She prayed to god they were ordinary, that they didn't have so much to lose. She'd die of such extreme craving; an obsession that discourses could never represent.

"I don't think I could."

Soon, Christian. Finally we'll be yearning together.

XXXX

AN: Next one, is the final chapter!