A/N: This is for the guest who asked so nicely for an update. :D

Chapter 23

Hans is sitting at the table with Kate's family, yet still alone, off to one side by himself. Pissed off does not even begin to describe his expression. I need to get a handle on this situation. Smoothing my dress, I go straight to him and take a seat beside him.

"Hans, I'm not sure I understand what happened tonight," I begin but he interrupts me.

"Ana, where I come from when a girl goes somewhere with a man, she doesn't flirt or sneak away with another one."

"Hans, I asked you here tonight having no idea that Christian would be here. If I'd known that, I would never have asked you to accompany me. He and I have… a history together. Honestly, I'm hoping that we can reconcile because I love him."

"You love him?" His face goes pale at my declaration.

I nod. "I do. He's very angry with me that our annulment was put on hold."

The fight goes out of him instantly and he hangs his head. "I'm sorry, Ana. I seem to be causing you so many problems. It was never my intention. It's just that… well, if you remember, our marriage wasn't only to help me get to the U.S. We were falling in love. When I saw you again, the years dropped away. I felt as if you were mine again."

"I'm sorry."

"No, I'm sorry. I need to speak to a lawyer about my immigration status but I will do it right away so I can stop making your life messy. Forgive me, Ana, but I'm going to leave now. Will you find your way home on your own?"

"Yes, of course. I'm sorry, Hans."

"I think I'm the sorry one." He smiles ruefully. "I hope he deserves you, Ana."

"Well, the jury's still out on that one."

"The jury?"

"Oh, it means that is still to be seen or proven."

"Ah." He grabs his jacket and kisses me on my temple. "Good night, Ana. I will call you as soon as I have any news to give you."

"Okay," I say, relieved he's going. I risk a glance across the room at the Grey table and see Christian watching. As soon as Hans steps out of the room, I stand and make my way over to Christian. I want to meet Zander, too.

Christian stands as I approach, meeting me halfway and taking my hand. He brings me over to his parents. "Mom, you remember Ana?"

"Yes, of course, dear. Hello, Ana. How are you?"

"Zander, this is Ana. You were at school when Ana came for dinner and she wanted to meet you."

A very lanky boy, all elbows and knees, stands up and extends his hand. "Hi, Ana. Nice to meet you."

"Likewise." I think he's adorable and probably what Christian looked like at his age. Big light eyes, dark curls, and features unbalanced, as they often are in teens. Boys often have to grow into their noses and ears.

"Ana, are you free next Saturday? I'd love for you to join us for dinner. It will just be family and a few friends. Can you make it?"

I'm definitely on the spot. I can't really decline unless I lie and tell her I am previously engaged. If I accept and Christian and I can't work things out… True, we sort of worked them out in that dark broom closet or whatever it was, but we've yet to really talk and have it out. I still want to know what he was doing at Irina's and who were those women in the publicity shots. Our future rests on the answers to those questions.

Christian doesn't allow me the chance to give the wrong response. "She'd love to, Mom. Wouldn't you, Ana?"

Trying not to glare at him, I plaster a big smile on my face. "Oh, yes. Definitely. Thank you so much for the invite."

"Kate is coming, too, I believe."

"Oh? How nice. Well, speaking of Kate, I should get back to her table. Thank you again. And Zander, very nice to meet you finally. Perhaps I'll see you again on Saturday evening."

He turns as red as a tomato. "Yeah," he mumbles and puts his head down. It's cute how embarrassed he became.

So. Dinner at the Greys' home Saturday night gives me a reason to go shopping again—always looking at the bright side, that's me. Kent gets back on Sunday so the timing is good. If Christian upsets me, Kent's shoulder will be available in the a.m. All things considered, things are looking up.

...

Christian has to leave in the morning to go to Chicago to meet with some business alliance. He's coming back Thursday night so we agree to have our long talk either Friday evening or Saturday before his mother's dinner.

When Friday morning rolls around, he calls me to say tomorrow is better so I go ahead and make plans with Minx and Kate and a couple of friends of Minx. The thing that Minx neglected to tell me is that one of her friends is an extremely well-built Marine and I discover that I'm developing a thing for men in uniform. If Christian doesn't straighten up and fly right, I may just have to explore this thing more fully.

Kate bails on us at the last minute, choosing instead to spend time with Elliot yet again. Killjoy. Minx and I get talked into—a good-looking soldier is hard to turn down—going to a good old-fashioned Irish pub so what could go wrong? Not two hours into our alcoholic adventure, a drunken brawl breaks out. It's amazing how many of the patrons feel it's their civic duty to join in the fray. Meantime, Minx informs me she needs to leave soon to go to Irina's. As I'm getting a sense of déjà vu (all over again) two men start swinging fists right next to us and guess who takes a stray punch?

The bar manager insists on calling me an ambulance and I beg him not to. I mean beg, plead, cry even. In the end we compromise: he won't call the ambulance if he can put me in a cab to go to the ER and get my face checked out. Obviously, he is trying his level best to avoid a lawsuit. That's how I end up back in the ER, praying that there's a different doctor on call tonight or they'll think either I'm looking for drugs or have something akin to Baron Munchausen syndrome. For a minute, the fates smile and a female doctor comes to take a look at my swollen cheekbone.

In short order she determines nothing's fractured, puts an ice pack on it, and hands me two ibuprofen pills and I'm good to go. I make my way into the waiting room while my papers are drawn up and I've barely sat down when Minx confidently strides in, looks at me, and holds up her hands. "I want you to know that I didn't mean for this to happen."

"What? You didn't mean for what to happen?" No sooner are the words off my tongue when a tall, utterly gorgeous man—no uniform—strides urgently into the room, eyes scanning the various people sitting inside then alight on me. "Ana!"

He comes rushing over to me. "Are you okay?"

I roll my eyes. I cannot believe Minx called him. "I'm fine. Totally fine." I glower at Minx, my expression accusing her of female treachery.

"Ana, I had to call Irina to tell her I'd be late meeting my cl…uh, date. I had to tell her why. He," she gestures with her head, "was there and overheard."

He sits down next to me. "Obviously you're not fine. What's injured?"

I jerk my shoulder back in annoyance and grimace as a result. That was stupid—it was still sore from my last Minx-associated injury. The woman is seriously dangerous to my health. "It's just a bruise."

"What did the doctor say?"

I am so pissed off that he was at Irina's tonight when he told me he was busy. Every time we seem to be patching things up between us, he goes and does something to ruin it. "Ana, what did the doctor say?"

Refusing to answer him, I get up and start pacing, desperate to run out of the damn hospital. I know I'm acting childishly but I can't help it. Why the fuck was he at Irina's? And stupid, desperate me, I had sex with him in a freaking broom closet not a week ago? He jumps up and grasps me to turn me around. I wrench my arm away from him and snap, "It's none of your concern. I have no idea why you felt compelled to come here." Then without any pause I glance up at Minx who looks as if she'd like to be anywhere else but here. "I suppose you have to go now?"

"If you're okay? We have to stop making a habit of this routine, Ana."

I twist my face in disgust, at who or what, I'm not sure. "Is your hot Marine friend still with us?" I ask, sneaking a peek at Christian and am rewarded by a pissy look on his face. Two can play at the same stupid game, Mr. Grey.

"I haven't seen him since we got here. I think he may have left by now."

Minx is fidgeting and stoking the flames of my anger—I need her to be gone as well. "Please feel free to go," I say to her. "I'll get myself home. Christian, please continue your evening as well. There's absolutely no reason for you to be here.

"Are you sure, Ana?" Minx asks anxiously.

"Absolutely. I'll call a taxi or maybe Kate can swing by and get me. I'm good. Go."

"Okay. I'll call you in the a.m. to check up on you." She looks at Christian. "Do you want to ride back to Irina's with me?"

This time he has the good grace to flush. "No. I won't be returning this evening. I'll see Ana home."

"No, you will not. Go, Christian. I fucking mean it." I can't keep the fury out of my voice. I just can't. But he doesn't budge.

Twenty minutes later, my discharge papers are finally done: I sign and am ready to leave. I still haven't been able to shake Christian. He sat next to me quietly the whole time I waited so I decided to ignore him totally, treating him like an insect on the wall—aware he's there but not paying him any mind.

Now I walk briskly through the automatic doors that swish open. Christian is next to me, matching my stride. Finally I look at him. "What's it going to take for me to lose you, Christian?"

"I'm taking you home and then I'll take off."

"I don't want you to. And by the way, I'm going to have to cancel tomorrow night at your parents' house. I'm truly sorry for the short notice."

His jaw goes tight. "You'll need to telephone my mother, Ana."

"Couldn't you tell her for me?"

"I could but I won't. You're the one cancelling at the last minute—you should be the one to tell her. And I am taking you home, discussion over. Once you're safely at home, I'll make myself scarce."

I growl in frustration as he grabs my elbow, leading me to his parked car. "Why do you even care, for God's sake? You've moved on, obviously."

He opens the passenger door for me and I slide in. When he goes around to get into the driver's seat, I ready myself for a fight.

Brows knit together, he searches my face. "What do you mean, I've moved on?"

"I mean, you're dating other women."

Those fascinating irises of his flare with surprise. "On what basis are you making these assumptions?"

"On the basis of my 20-20 eyesight."

"Ana, I don't appreciate—"

I interrupt him, feeling the bubbles of hysteria popping up in my esophagus. "I don't give a rat's ass what you do or don't appreciate! I told you to go, that I don't need your help. Right at this moment, I don't care if I never see you again." That's when the volcanic eruption takes place. Normally I don't like to cry in front of anyone but I've been holding this in too long and it just comes vomiting out of me. When it's spent and I can breathe again, I wipe my eyes with the heels of my hands, then keep them glued to my lap. The car has yet to begin moving and not a word has been spoken since I went into meltdown.

His hand goes under my chin and lifts it but I stubbornly keep my eyes cast down. "Ana. Look at me."

No. I refuse to. If I don't look at him, I don't see him. Ergo, he's not there. That's the way I'm going to play it.

"Look at me," he repeats, enunciating each word slowly.

I still refuse, but this time I mutter, "Just take me home already."

"I'm not moving this car until you look at me."

I expel my breath loudly to illustrate my impatience but I comply, peeking sideways at him. He does not appear angry. Or anything else for that matter. If I had to guess at the emotion behind his expression, I'd say… interested. "What?" I snap the question at him.

"I'd like to know why you think I'm dating other women. Was it the photo you mentioned?"

"The photo, yes. I also thought I saw you at the Bay's Edge restaurant one night—with a woman. And Minx told me you were at Irina's dungeon party… plus, you were there tonight. If that's not moving on, I don't know what is."

"I see. I suppose you've moved on too. I believe I heard Minx mention some Marine you were out with? Then there's your husband, of course."

I flush as his words hit home.

The car jerks forward as he shifts it into first and we're zipping out of the parking lot. I guess we said all that needed to be said. We get about halfway to my apartment when he speaks up again. "I would think you've learned by now that appearances can be deceiving. For your information, Ana, I have not moved on. I am not dating anyone. The photo in the magazine is misleading. I was at the party by myself and that woman who I barely knew came up to talk to me. She was intoxicated and she began to hang onto me when the picture was taken. As for being at a restaurant with a woman—didn't happen. I did, however, attend Irina's dungeon party at her request. I did not do anything with anyone and left after an hour."

"What about that blonde?" I counter. "I've seen you photographed with her more than once."

"She's a friend and most, if not all of those photos are old. And, just so you know, I was at Irina's tonight because I've been helping her refine her architectural drawing for remodeling her home."

"Oh? You're an architect now?"

My question was sarcastic but his answer surprises the hell out of me. "I have a degree in industrial architecture but I can easily do a residential house remodel. Her plans were done years ago before she purchased the house and she wanted to update them to her taste and to include additional features."

"Huh. If you studied to be an architect, why aren't you one?"

He shrugs. "It didn't work out that way."

"So you're really not dating?"

"No, but apparently you are."

"No. I'm just trying to get out now and then. I'm generally not interested in going out so I need to be coerced by my friends. Minx sees it—or me—as a personal challenge."

"What does interest you, Ana?"

For the first time I really notice how damn good he looks tonight. Mouthwateringly good. He fills out those black jeans of his ever so sufficiently, as well as the black sweater, black shoes, black everything. Monochromatic plus Christian equals yummy. I decide in that split second to go for broke. "You, Christian. You interest me but I always feel so insecure about your feelings for me."

A bitter burst of laughter precedes his comment. "I could say the very same about you."

Which strikes me as incredible. ""Why didn't you answer my text?"

"Ana, I honestly do not recall receiving one from you. Had I seen one, I would have immediately responded, I assure you."

Pursing my lips and narrowing my eyes, I let him see that I'm not sure I believe him. But given that I've been cursed or blessed, depending on how you see it, with a short attention span… what was I saying? Oh yes, I move on to another topic. "Oh. Guess what? I got a job."

He doesn't look happy for me: he merely raises his left brow. "What kind of job?"

I tell him and by the time he pulls in front of my apartment building, I've told him every minor detail about my job and everyone who works there. He barely has to ask me anything: I just spew it all out. If he could only communicate as effectively, we'd be fine.

When the car comes to a stop, I angle my body to face him. "Are you going to come in?"

"Do you want me to?" He volleys to me and I return it neatly.

"Only if you want to."

"Would you like to know what I really want to do?"

My cheeks get warm and I decide to out-brazen him. "I don't know but I kinda liked what we did in that broom closet."

"It was the restaurant owner's office actually," his words travel on a huff of warm breath.

"Oh, well it was dark."

"No windows."

"Oh. So?"

Smirking, he leans over toward me until we're separated by no more than an inch or two at best. "What I really want to do, Ana, is to put you over the back of the couch and fuck you hard from behind. That's what I'd really like to do. What would you really like to do?"

I swallow. "How hard?"

He narrows his eyes. "Very."

I clear my throat before I whisper, "Kate might be home."

He grins and opens the car door. "Only one way to find out."

"Actually there has to be lots of ways to find out." I'm still cranky about all the crap he's put me through and pissed at myself that I end up giving in to his sex magic every freaking time. As I put my key into the lock, he caresses my cheek with the back of his fingers. "Do you still love me?"

"Do you think that's changed in a week's time?"

"I've heard that women are fickle."

"Well, I may be fickle but at least I'm also brave and not afraid to put my feelings out there."

A hurt look descends over his face, one that I'm hard-pressed to decipher. This man is such an enigma to me and I decide that dinner tomorrow night at his parents' house will be a fine time to do some digging. Plus, I don't want to call her to cancel. I look up at him as the tumbler clicks. "What were we planning on doing again?"

Pupils dilating, he threads his fingers through my hair, grabbing a fistful and pulling my face up to kiss me. We're still in the hall and anyone can come through but he doesn't seem to care… and I have to say, I don't care much either. All I can think about is how soft his lips are, how good he smells, how much heat his body radiates, and how his breathing deepens when he's needy for me. It makes me ever more yearnful of what only he could provide.

As soon as the door opens, we stumble in and don't stop for a second. He starts undressing me before we even get fully inside the door. Dante runs up to greet us but Christian doesn't let me come up for air. His tongue is in my mouth, tangoing with mine, his hands are everywhere—down my back, cupping my rear end, moving in front to knead my breasts, running up from there to my throat and squeezing gently. He threads his fingers through my hair, grabbing a fistful and very gently pulls my head back, his lips heating my skin.

I feel the zipper being slowly yanked down the back of my shift. "I like you in this dress, Ana. It suits you perfectly." He kisses each inch of my bare skin as he exposes it. "But I like you better out of this dress, Ana. That suits me perfectly."

I don't respond to his comment about my dress. Why tell him that Kent made the dress especially for me? Once the zipper is down, he slides the garment from my shoulders and lets it crumple at my feet.

I step out of it and am about to toe off my sandals.

"No, leave them on. Better angle." He's already eyeing the sofa back.

What if Kate comes in while we're in flagrante delicto? I should say something.

"Christian, as much as I like your idea, Kate lives here too and she could come in while we're, uh, indisposed."

He gives me a roguish grin. "Well, we shall see how good her timing is, won't we?" He tugs on my good arm until I'm in front of him then turns me toward the back of the sofa and rather roughly bends me over it. "Now, don't move lest we aggravate that injured shoulder. Okay, Ana? Are you still on BC?"

"Yes to both. Just so we're clear, if Kate walks in and sees me in this compromising position, you'll be roadkill before the night is out. Comprende?"

What he didn't tell me, instead choosing to let me worry, is that he knew for a fact that Kate was with his brother at Elliot's apartment. I find that out later when he makes an offhand remark about the two of them.

Leaning me over the couch provides him with several advantages: one I have little leverage in this position so he's free to pin me down and keep me there. Two, his hands are in a position to slap my bottom that is so temptingly sticking up and my helplessness makes it all the more irresistible, I fear. And three, it's really deep this way. As soon as he pushes himself into me. Ow. Before I can dwell on the pain of him bumping up against my cervix, I hear him grunt with deep satisfaction and the sound alone pushes me along toward my own nirvana so fast it's shocking. While I'm cresting, he's maintaining a steady rhythm but when my orgasm clenches my muscles around him, I feel that rhythm start to pick up. In seconds, he's plunging into me, his hips slapping my ass, sounding like someone clapping in applause and I almost—almost—start giggling. I swallow it fast so I don't ruin his orgasm for him. I'm not all that experienced but something tells me that laughing during sex might not be good for a man's ego or libido.

He's swinging into me really hard and fast now and I'm wondering how much more I can take when he freezes and a big shudder runs through his beautiful body. He thrusts one more time and sings out my name on a throaty moan. I decide tomorrow may be the best time for our talk since right now, my bones have dissolved into liquid and if I can stand up long enough to brush my teeth, it'll be an impressive coup. I sag right into the sofa, convinced I'll be sleeping here because I ain't moving.

Later, Christian tells me he has to go back to his apartment to get something and he'll pick me up tomorrow in the afternoon to take me to his parents' house. Guess he thought I was kidding about cancelling.

"What about our talk?" I ask.

"Well, we've talked this evening. Do we have more?"

"Sorry to burst your bubble but yes. We have more."

"I'll come early tomorrow so we can talk then. Will that work?"

I shrug. "I suppose but I'd like you to stay with me tonight. Can't you go home in the morning?"

"Okay. I'll stay the night," he agrees easily. I guess he's in a pliable mood for some reason.

We don't get much sleep, as it turns out. Having each other in the same bed is not conducive to sleep and when we're not making love, we're touching and whispering. Dragging myself off the mattress to get a glass of water, I look over at him looking all gorgeous and relaxed, the sheet covering him from his hips down but not leaving all that much to the imagination. "Want anything from the kitchen?"

"I'll take some water, please."

"Coming right up." I stagger to the kitchen, my legs feeling more like jelly than muscle. Kate likes to keep beer mugs in the freezer to frost so I reach in and grab the two that are in there, filling them with filtered water and ice cubes. The clinking heralds my arrival and he's waiting for me, hands behind his head and smiling. There's a huge thing sticking up from the sheets. Again? I smirk and hand him one of the mugs.

"Mmm, great idea. Though I read somewhere that cold water isn't healthy. Room temperature is how to drink it optimally."

Maybe but cold tastes best, I think, chugging the icy water.

He pats the empty space next to him. "Come back to bed, Ana."

I eye him suspiciously. "Where'd that come from?" I point to his very obvious erection but he just gives me a carefree grin. Carefully I place my mug on the bedside table and then jump him, like, literally. He grabs for me laughing and begins to tickle me mercilessly.

Have I mentioned I loathe being tickled? I'm trying to make him stop but laughing too hard to utter anything decipherable and he's having too much fun tormenting me. I finally manage to grab both his hands, making them stop but he swoops down and starts kissing me before I've had any chance to catch my breath. I'm going to die of asphyxiation. Before he allows me a breath, he's plunged into me.

I run my fingers down his back and he shivers. It gives me an idea, how to make sure no other woman gets to see him as I'm seeing him right now. Distracting him with a throaty moan, I rake my nails down his back viciously—not viciously enough to draw blood but enough to leave very obvious marks for a few days. His reaction is gratifying and immediate: first he gasps then growls, and then he starts thrusting into me so hard and rough that soreness is a sure thing in my future. I'll be lucky to be able to walk tomorrow. But it'll be worth it.

After he makes me come screaming, using fingers, tongue, and his impressive equipment, he finally allows himself release then lies panting on top of me as I stroke his hair lovingly.

When he's back with me he picks up his head and smiling down at me, he says, "Oh, I forgot to tell you. My mother told us to come early tomorrow with our swimsuits for drinks around the pool."