Chapter 11: Chasing his sun
AKA: Savannah Part I
If I told you about
the darkness
inside of me would you
still
look at me
like I'm the Sun?
Four hours later, we were landing on Georgia. The sun looked amazing outside the plane's windows, and I wished I was on my sailplane, free to enjoy the vast blue sky.
I should take Anastasia soaring.
Maybe I could do it soon. Very soon.
"Taylor."
"Yes, sir."
"I'd like to take Anastasia soaring in Georgia—at dawn tomorrow, if we can find somewhere to do that. But later would be fine, too."
"I'll get on it."
"Never mind the cost."
"Okay, sir."
"Thanks."
Before 9:00 p.m., we were stepping into the best hotel Savannah had to offer. Suddenly, and for the first time in years, I didn't know what to do with myself. How should I approach Anastasia? Would she be happy I was there, or upset I was interrupting her time with her mother?
Taking her soaring the following morning would probably make her forgive me if that were the case. But first, I needed to let her know I was in Savannah.
I checked my emails. She hadn't answered yet. I'd wait an hour, and if she hadn't replied by then, I'd call her.
I needed to unwind after the long day and the plane trip, and staying in my room working wouldn't help. I decided to go to the bar.
Just as I was about to open my room's door, someone knocked from the outside. I found Taylor standing in the hallway, Brunswick Soaring Association's paperwork on hand. They'd be ready for me and Anastasia right before sunrise.
The hotel's bar was crowded, but I was able to find a seat at the end of the counter. Just as I'd ordered a beer, my phone pinged.
Anastasia had answered.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Drinking
Date: June 1, 2011, 21:30
To: Christian Grey
Dear Sir,
We do look hot, although your looks far surpass mine.
I am out, having drinks with my mother.
Have you apologised to yours already?
What are you up to? Relaxing, I hope.
Your Ana
My looks far surpassed her? She didn't see herself the way I saw her. She was enchantingly beautiful.
She looked perfect in that picture, standing right next to me. She belonged at my side.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Drinking alone
Date: June 1, 2011, 21:33
To: Anastasia Steele
Dear Anastasia,
You don't see yourself clearly. There's no woman as beautiful as you, nor one that fits so right next to me. I'll show you as soon as I can find a floor to ceiling mirror. I may have to invest in one.
I am having a drink, too, albeit alone.
No more working today.
And I haven't spoken with my mother yet.
Christian Grey
Lonely CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
There was a floor to ceiling mirror in my hotel room, and I was going to find a way to get her there before we returned to Seattle.
As I waited for Anastasia to reply, I scanned the bar. It was a hip, contemporary place, with moody lighting and a relaxed vibe. A few women tried to catch my eye, but I avoided eye contact with them.
A movement of brunette hair caught my attention, and I couldn't help but do a double-take.
Could it be?
Indeed, it was Anastasia, chatting and laughing with a woman that could only be her mother. Her hair was a few shades darker than Anastasia's and she looked a couple of decades older—she had to be in her early forties—but she had the very same blue eyes.
I watched them, transfixed. They were drinking cocktails—Cosmopolitans, by the look of them. Anastasia's mother—Carla Adams, I recalled—glanced up and attracted the attention of one of the waiters, pointing to their glasses in the universal language of 'same again, please.'
I looked down at my phone, ready to email her, when I noticed she had already replied.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Kinky
Date: June 1, 2011, 21:38
To: Christian Grey
Mr Flattery,
A floor to ceiling mirror? That gives me some interesting ideas.
I'm glad you're taking a break. You work too much.
Your Kitty
P.S. Are you ever going to tell me why you call me that?
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Careful...
Date: June 1, 2011, 21:42
To: Anastasia Steele
Dear Kitty
I'll hold you to that sooner than you think. I can't wait for you to see your delectable body as I touch it.
How many Cosmopolitans are you going to drink?
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
I stared at her, waiting. After less than a minute, she looked down at her phone, opened the notification and read my email. A few seconds later, she rose her head abruptly and I smirked with amusement.
She scanned the bar once and, when she didn't spot me, I decided to stand up and approach her. Her eyes found me during her second scan through the bar and she bit her lower lip nervously.
Damn, I wanted to bite that lip.
Carla seemed to notice her stare. She asked Anastasia something I couldn't hear and my Kitty replied.
"What? Really?" inquired shocked the older woman before looking up, following Anastasia's line of vision to see me approaching them.
"Hi," Anastasia squeaked, still caught unawares but luckily not upset. Actually, she seemed as pleased to see me as I was to see her.
"Hello, beautiful," I replied, and she seemed to melt in front of my eyes.
Without making the conscious decision to do so, I leant down to kiss her cheek.
"Christian, this is my mother, Carla."
"Mrs Adams, I am delighted to meet you."
I gave her my best winning smile and she reacted even more strongly than Anastasia. I remembered my Kitty had called me a 'Steele whisperer' once, but it'd seem the term was inaccurate. Carla was already putty in my hands, and I hadn't spoken much yet. Surely she wouldn't mind it if I stole Anastasia away for sex and gliding.
After staring at me open-mouthed for a second or two, she shook my offered hand.
Anastasia, seemingly embarrassed by her mother's reaction, chewed on her lip with a vengeance.
"Don't do that," I scolded her softly. "You'll hurt yourself." I used the excuse to touch her, reaching down with my hand and freeing her lip from her teeth.
"Won't you join us for a drink, Christian?" asked Carla, having found her voice.
"I'd love to, if you don't mind the interruption," I answered before sliding next to my Kitty.
"What brings you here?" asked Anastasia.
"You, of course. I finished my business earlier than planned and decided to surprise you. You did say you wished I was here this morning," I replied, hoping my nerves didn't show.
"That I did. I've missed you." Good.
"Me too," I answered. It was… a new feeling for me. I was used to travelling, yet I'd never missed someone before during my trips. Whenever I'd had to fly away during a weekend in the past, I'd only longed for the body of a Submissive and its carnal pleasure.
But it was different with Anastasia. I craved more than her body. Even more so, I had been dying to see her so badly I had just hopped into my plane without a second thought about my job back in Seattle or the brunette's possible rejection. I was shocked at my own actions.
"I'm glad you happen to be drinking in the hotel where I'm staying," I added, continuing the conversation. "I would have contacted you tomorrow, otherwise." No need to tell her I'd been about to call her like some obsessed lover. "Did you have fun shopping today?"
"Yes. We switched to the beach sometime after lunch. It's been nice to soak up in the sun."
"I bet. Your skin looks lovely." It was iridescent after the sun exposure, and I was looking forwards to exploring it from up close. I caressed her naked leg under the table with my pinkie finger, seducing her slowly. "The colour of that top suits you," I added, nodding at her military green shirt. "Did you buy it today?"
"Yes. Thank you," she answered, blushing at the compliment.
I had missed that blush.
"I thought I'd surprise you. But as ever, Anastasia, you surprise me by being here."
The brunette looked at her mother, and from the corner of my eye, I caught Carla staring at me. I knew Anastasia had only had one boyfriend about four years ago, and while living on the other side of the country. Thus, I wasn't surprised Carla seemed as shocked to see her daughter with a man as my own family had been at watching me interact with Anastasia.
"I don't want to interrupt the time you have with your mother. I'll just finish my drink and then go back to my room. I have work to do," I spoke, meaning my words but hoping Anastasia would still choose to follow me. If she didn't, maybe it'd be best to postpone my plans and take her gliding once we were back in Seattle. I honestly didn't wish to deprive her of spending time with her mother, even if a part of me wanted to keep her all to myself.
"Christian, it's lovely to meet you finally," Carla said then. "Ana has spoken very fondly of you."
I smiled at Anastasia. "Really?" Considering this had started with a contract she'd refused to sign because she had wanted nothing to do with me, that was pleasant to hear.
"I may have omitted a thing or two. Or fifty," joked Anastasia, although I didn't doubt her sincerity. After all, she couldn't very well tell her mother what we liked to do in private.
I raised an eyebrow, amused, and she giggled. I realised it was an unfamiliar sound and that she was tipsy.
"I know that giggle. It's time for you to switch to water, Miss."
"I did tell her you're bossy," she informed me with a playful smile.
"How long are you staying in Georgia, Christian?" Carla asked.
"Until Friday, Mrs Adams. I thought I'd go back with Anastasia. If that's okay with you?" I asked, turning to look at her.
"Of course!" she answered honestly. I was glad she was such a terrible liar that I knew she meant those words and wasn't just trying not to be rude.
"Will you have dinner with us tomorrow evening? And please, call me Carla."
"I'd be delighted to, Carla." Never had I dined with the parent of a woman I was fucking, but the prospect of sharing that first with Anastasia and Carla wasn't daunting. From what my Kitty had said, her mother wasn't overprotective and tended to overshare. I was looking forwards to learning anything she had to say about Anastasia.
"Excellent. If you two will excuse me, I need to visit the powder room."
"You must try and join us at the beach sometime," Anastasia said as Carla walked away. Anastasia in a bikini? Count me in. "You can't spend the rest of the week here, cooped up in your room working."
"I promise to make an effort. Although I don't think it would be much of a struggle to go and see you wearing a bikini."
"As long as you can behave yourself in front of my mum..."
"Something tells me she wouldn't mind if I sneaked in a kiss or two."
"She'll take pictures to save for prosperity," she answered, and it sounded like a warning. "Then, she'll convince you to give her your mother's number, she'll send her baby pictures of me, and together they'll make an album of how our future children will look like," she informed me matter-of-factly, shocking me to the core. I started choking on my drink.
"You're kidding, right?" She probably wasn't. From the things Anastasia had told me about her mother, I wouldn't put it past her. Grace wasn't the kind of person to do such a thing, but she'd be likely to indulge Carla nonetheless.
"I wish I were! My mother was very disappointed to hear you're not the one I'm planning on spending the rest of my life with."
"Hey! There's nothing wrong with me! Girls would kill to spend the rest of their lives with me," I answered affronted. Most of my Subs would have happily signed a life-long contract with me.
She snorted, completely unrepentant by her insulting words. "You're not marriage material, and you like it that way."
"It doesn't mean I can't make girls stay if I want to."
"I'll believe it when I see it."
Ha! I showed her, didn't I?
Before I could answer something witty and slightly lewd, I noticed Carla was walking towards us with a smile that could rival Mia's.
"Your mother's coming," I whispered. "Well ladies, I shall leave you to your evening," I spoke as soon as Carla had returned. "Please put these drinks on my tab, room number 612." There. If she wanted to, she could easily follow me once she was done drinking with her mother. "I'll call you in the morning, Anastasia. Until tomorrow, Carla."
"Oh, it's so nice to hear someone use her full name."
"Beautiful name for a beautiful girl," I murmured as I shook Carla's outstretched hand.
I kissed Anastasia goodbye, being chase both for the sake of property and because I was edgy after Anastasia's flippant comment about the baby album.
"Laters, baby," I whispered in her ear, knowing the effect it had on her.
As I walked away, I could feel her—their? —eyes on my back.
Once back in my room, I changed into a pair of comfortable sweat shorts and went back to work. I emailed Andrea to have her cancel my meeting with Flynn for the following day—I was both looking forward to and dreading discussing Anastasia with my shrink, so a part of me was glad I needed to postpone that conversation—and then replied to an email from Ros regarding my trip to New York and the possibility of setting up a new plant in either Detroit, Chicago or Boston. Personally, I had no wish to own a building in the city in which I had spent the worst years of my life, even if it was economically sound. I was rooting for Boston and the possibility of setting offices there, so that we could offer internships to Harvard and M.I.T. students, even if it meant too much work with small initial profits. If we wanted to be the best, we needed to employ the best.
Half an hour later, someone knocked on my door. Hoping it was Anastasia and anxious to see her again, I wasted no time in setting aside my computer and walking in long strides towards the door. There she was, standing shyly in the empty hallway.
She looked at me up and down, ogling my naked chest.
"Hello, Anastasia. I was hoping you'd come," I greeted her. "Come on in."
She followed me into the room and I went to the mini-bar, where I fetched a bottle of water for her. I knew she couldn't hold her alcohol, and it was important she stayed hydrated, especially if I was going to seduce her in front of the mirror and then fucked her until we couldn't walk.
Speaking of…
"I'll be right back. Wait here."
I left Anastasia in the main room and walked through the bedroom and into the bathroom. It was divided into two rooms, with the second holding a large sunken bath dead centre. The room was decorated in aquamarine and white limestone, and one of the walls was covered with the infamous floor-to-ceiling mirror.
I turned on the faucet, setting the temperature as hot as I dared to so the water would remain warm for longer. I opened the cabinets, looking for a little something to make the occasion more memorable, and found half a dozen candles and one of those small boxes of matches that hotels usually offered. I turned on the candles and set them around the room, away from the bath. As I put away the matches, I found a small bottle of Castile liquid soap and 'sea breath' blue bath salts, and poured a slight amount of each into the bathtub. Satisfied with how the room looked, I returned to Anastasia.
I found her sitting on the couch, holding a half-full bottle of water and chewing onto her lip nervously. With her shoulders hunched, she looked shy and uncomfortable, as if she was the one out of place when I had followed her uninvited to Georgia and interrupted her night with her mother.
"Stop biting your lip Anastasia," I spoke, fearing for the wellbeing of her poor lip, and she jumped, startled. "You know what it does to me," I added as I reached out to free her lower lip. "Now, come with me."
I reached down with a hand and she took it unhesitatingly. She stood up and followed me back to the bathroom, where she looked around the room, her eyes noticing the huge bathtub before focusing on the large mirror. Anastasia looked hilariously shocked; she clearly remembered what I had emailed her.
The bathtub—now covered in bubbles and emitting steam—was already mostly full, so I bent down to turn off the faucet. Then, I turned around to face Anastasia. She was looking at me intently, her lips slightly parted and her blue eyes dark with desire. I needed her. But first, I needed to show her she was gorgeous and belonged right next to me.
Without saying a word, I undid the buttons of her shirt slowly, making no effort to keep the back of my fingers from caressing her skin. I took off her shirt and noticed the plain ivory bra she was wearing; it was meant to be comfortable rather than alluring, but to me, she looked like a goddess nonetheless. I unhooked her bra and threw it to the floor before undoing the button and zipper of her white shorts. Ready to see all of her, I slid my thumbs on each side of both her jeans and panties and slid them down her legs.
"Step out of your shorts," I said.
She began to lift her right leg but lost her balance. Instinctually, I reached out to hold her by the arms.
"Careful, beautiful," I whispered as I looked down and realised she had tried to step out of her clothes without removing her sandals first.
I knelt to help her out of her shoes, shorts and panties before she could land herself on the floor.
When I looked up, it was to the perfect view of her sexy naked body.
I wanted to taste every centimetre of her sweet body.
She shifted her weight from one foot to another, ill at ease with my staring. But the look on her eyes… there was some self-consciousness there, but also trust and desire for me. With that look, she gave herself to me fully, body and soul, and I vowed to make myself worthy of her. To cherish her and her trust in me—her faith in me. I'd reign in my darkest side and maybe renew my efforts with Flynn's Solution-Focused Brief Therapy.
What was my goal? To be happy. To be rid of my night terrors. To get better at dealing with my anger. To allow myself to enjoy my friendship with Anastasia. And, right then and there, to show Anastasia how incredibly gorgeous she was. How she belonged with me.
Still kneeling in front of her, I watched our reflection.
I might not have deserved her—at least, not yet—but I'd be damned if we didn't look amazing together.
"Look at you. You are so beautiful," I murmured.
I watched her reflection as she looked down at my face and then followed my line of sight towards the mirror.
She seemed to like what she saw.
I stood up and grabbed her by the shoulders to turn her so she was facing the mirror. Then, I stood behind her and stared at our reflection from above her right shoulder.
We were ready to begin.
"See how you feel," I said as I clasped both of her hands in mine, the back of her hands pressed against my palms and her fingers between mine. I guided her hands towards her smooth belly. "Feel how soft your skin is."
I directed her hands so that she'd caress herself, while I got to enjoy the feeling of her skin with the tip of my fingers.
I travelled north, towards her chest, and said, "Feel how full your breasts are," as I had her palm herself. With my thumb, I played with her nipples until they were as hard as diamonds.
"They feel so heavy and soft in our hands," I continued, staring at her lovely breasts through the mirror. "They are perfect. They belong with me, just like the rest of you."
She moaned in approval and arched her back towards our hands.
Hopefully, the pleasure we were giving her body would condition her mind to believe my words. I wanted her to believe in her beauty, just like I did. Rationally, I knew I was more handsome than average, and people would think—and maybe even say—that Anastasia didn't belong at my side, but I knew they were wrong. If anything, it was me, with my black heart, that didn't belong with her.
Bottom line, I wanted her to know her body pleased me like no other, and that to me she was perfect.
Slowly, I moved our hands south, towards her waist and hips. They had the perfect shape, and I dared anyone to disagree with that.
"You have the most alluring curves. Look at them. Women envy them, men crave them. But they also belong with me. I'll make sure to never lose them. Now that I've seen them and felt them, I've grown addicted to them."
I guided our hands even further downwards, towards her sweet pussy. Anastasia spread her legs some more without prompting, giving us easy access. "Your pussy is otherworldly," I whispered in her ear just like she liked it. As I'd expected, she moaned. She was so fucking responsive to me. How could she doubt her place was at my side?
I set a rhythm as we teased her cunt, first running over it with our right hands, then with our left ones, and so on. "So sensitive and wet and tight. So sweet. I could dive into it all day long, taking occasional breaks to taste it. It belongs with me, Kitty. It's my perfect counterpart." I pressed my hard-on—still trapped in my sweatpants—against her ass. "We fit like pieces of a puzzle."
She muttered some nonsense that sounded like an agreement.
"Touch yourself, baby."
I released her hands, giving her free reign to touch herself as she pleased. I held onto her enticing hips, my fingers spread over them to cover as much of an area as possible.
Mine.
She didn't hesitate to comply with my order, so far into the scene—it didn't sound like the proper them, but I didn't know what else to call it—that she wasn't embarrassed to touch herself in front of me. Her fingers slid between her folds and she started working on her pussy with ease, following what seemed like a familiar rhythm.
"That's right, beautiful. Look at you, flushed and glowing with pleasure. You are the most gorgeous creature in the world to me."
I knelt and my hands travel towards her lovely ass cheeks. I squeezed it.
Hmm….
"I love your ass. I love watching it as you walk, or get pink as I spank it. I love touching it and fondling it and playing with it." With my right thumb, I brushed her tight hole, and she instinctually pushed against my fingers. "That's it, baby. Who does it belong with?"
"You. It belongs with you. I belong with you. And you belong with me."
"I do, beautiful."
Never had I belonged with anyone like I did with Anastasia, and I was planning on staying by her side for as long as she'd let me. But at that moment, I didn't want to dwell on what it'd become of me when she eventually decided to move on.
I caressed her legs slowly, from her butt to her ankles, while she kept pleasuring herself.
"And these legs! Toned and soft. A pleasure to look at and to feel around my hips. They give you the perfect height, a head and a half under me."
"Please," she whimpered.
"What is it beautiful?"
"I need you."
"You have me."
She truly did, in more ways than she and I had fully grasped yet.
"I want you inside me."
"I aim to please, Miss Steele. Place your hands against the mirror and hold on tight."
She complied instantly. She stared at my reflection as I took off my shorts. Then, I stepped behind her. With my left hand, I grabbed her hip, and with my right one, I guided my painfully erect dick inside her wet pussy. I took her slowly and steadily, making love to her body just like I'd done earlier with my words and my hands. Our eyes kept finding each other's in the mirror, in between looking at the enticing image that was our bodies pleasing each other.
What had E. E. Cummings said?
I like my body when it's with your body.
And while I knew I was handsome and fit, and that people desired and envied my body in equal measure, whenever I looked at myself I could only see the scars left behind by that pimp… I could only see both the permanent physical and psychological marks he had left behind.
Yet when it was pressed against Anastasia, I finally liked my body. I liked how it looked against her naked skin. I liked how it could give Anastasia pleasure, and receive pleasure in return.
"I'm close, baby. Are you?"
"Yes. Ugh. Christian! Faster, please."
I complied with her sweet request and it took her next to no time to come around me, her muscles milking me and making me orgasm with her.
"Christian!" she shouted with her head held back and pressed against my chest as I screamed her name.
"Wow," she whispered.
"I know, beautiful. I need to get a floor-to-ceiling mirror for my bedroom or bathroom," I answered, panting.
She giggled.
She was so sweet. I kissed the side of her exposed neck.
"Do you believe you belong next to me now, gorgeous?"
"I think so. I do understand what you see when you look at me."
"Good. Time for a bath now." I glanced at the tub, thinking the water had probably gone colder than I'd predicted. "I should add some more hot water."
I could feel her eyes on my ass as I bent to remove the plug from the bottom of the bathtub. I let the water level lower a few centimetres before plugging the drain again. Finally, I turned on the hot water at maximum and added some more of the bath salts.
Once the tub had filled up again, I turned off the faucet and then helped Anastasia into the bathtub.
I climbed in and sat down on the built-in seat in front of her. I reached for her feet and massaged them with deliberation, aiming to relax her.
I could feel her eyes on me. First my face, then my chest… My scared chest.
After a few seconds, I fidgeted, uncomfortable with her staring.
"I'm sorry," she whispered as she turned her head. She sounded distressed.
I knew she was curious about my scars and had been so for some time. From the moment she'd first seen them, she'd respected my privacy, but it was clear with time her desire to know the truth had grown. The closer we became, the more I wanted to know about Anastasia and the more she wanted to learn about me. I didn't feel comfortable talking about it, and it was a secret I'd rather people didn't know about me, but I trusted Anastasia.
I was ready to share the painful truth with her.
"Look at me, Anastasia," I whispered.
Slowly, she turned her head. Her eyes reflected clearly the pain and sadness she felt for me. I knew what she was about to hear would upset her, but at this point in our friendship, I felt she was ready to learn the truth. I knew in my head she wouldn't reject me or be disgusted by me.
I knew I could trust her.
"My biological mother was a crack whore. Her pimp was… abusive. That's all you need to know." That's all I could say at the moment. All I was ready to share. All I was ready for her to have in her head.
She gasped and covered her mouth. Tears of pain and compassion ran down her cheeks.
Instinctually—although God knew where that instinct had come from—I reached out for her. I grabbed her gently by the shoulders and guided her towards me.
I held her in my arms, her back against my chest, and whispered, "Shh. Don't cry, my sweet Anastasia. It happened a long time ago."
"I wish it hadn't. It shouldn't have."
"I know, beautiful."
"I wish I could kiss your scars and fears away," she said with a small voice. "I wish I could touch you and make you feel like you make me feel."
I stiffened. "You can't. I…' I wished she could. But her hands on me would only hurt. They'd only make things worse.
Especially because it was her, and the last thing I wanted was to associate Anastasia's touch with pain.
"I know," she replied. "I understand and I won't ever push you. I just wanted to be honest. That's very important for us, right?"
"Right," I agreed.
This truth was both satisfying and painful to know. It was gratifying to learn she desired me as I desired her, and she wanted to touch and kiss every centimetre of my skin just like I'd done with hers. Yet it was stressful, knowing there was this one thing she wanted and I couldn't give her. Especially when I took so much pleasure from touching her I couldn't possibly live without it. I knew it was selfish of me, to expect her to give me something—the touch of her skin, whenever and however I wanted it—when I couldn't give it to her in return.
Suddenly, Anastasia grabbed my right hand and kissed my palm, before placing it against her beating heart.
"Stop over-thinking it," she said.
"I don't want to lose you."
"I'm not going anywhere," she promised.
It was hard to believe, that none of my fifty shades of grey would eventually drive her away from me.
"I would hate it if I couldn't touch you. If you can't stand it… if you can't stand being with me…"
"Hush." She turned sideways, so that her right arm was against my front, and looked at me straight in the eyes, her Adriatic Sea blue orbs serious and determined. "I belong with you, remember? You're not as broken as you think you are." She didn't even know half of it. "Sure, you have a couple of scars, and many bad memories, but all the great heroes in my novels do."
"I'm fifty shades of fucked up, Anastasia. I'm no hero."
"I know many people wouldn't agree. Think about all the developing countries you help, all the people you feed, all the charities in which you participate. The people you employ," she insisted with passion, doubtlessly believing in what she said. "They all depend on you, that brain of yours, and your heart of gold." I grimaced. My heart was dark and shrivelled, locked between walls of concrete.
"You're their hero," she insisted, "and mine too."
She was way too good to me. I couldn't help but picture it though: the photographs of children receiving GEH's donations, and the hundreds of employees that depended on me—and who I made sure had generous salaries and the best health care possible.
"You're an angel, beautiful."
"Well, my parents sure as hell think so, but after all the stuff we've done and the fights we've had, you can't believe it too!"
Oh, but I had been sure of it for long.
Nonetheless, I chuckled slightly at her joke.
"Now, as much as I love having baths with you," she said as she turned away from me, "I'm getting cold and turning into a prune. I'm ready for bed."
Bed? I could work with that.
I'd missed having her next to me at night.
I held her steady as she climbed out of the bath, lest she fell like she was prone to do.
Once we were both dry and I had put back on my shorts, we walked into the bedroom. I offered Anastasia one of my t-shirts, and she took it gladly. We climbed into bed, and when Anastasia slithered towards me, I held her with her back against my chest.
As soon as she'd made herself comfortable, she fell asleep, exhausted after the day with her mother and our intense experience in the bathroom.
I was growing tired, as it was late into the night, but I was too wired to sleep. My conversation with Anastasia had been… unexpected. She was even more of an angel than I'd given her credit for. She was like sunshine, and she had somehow crept into the box in which I'd hidden my heart. She'd come into my life like a storm and torn apart every wall I'd ever built.
There was no more denying it. No more hiding it from myself.
I was in love with Anastasia Steele.
I'd been in love with her for a while, and I had known it for nearly as long.
As I held her in my arms that warm night in Savannah, I didn't have a sudden and shocking realisation. Rather, I allowed myself to think those words and recognise them as the absolute truth.
I loved Anastasia Steele, and every positive changes I'd brought into my life during the last several weeks were because of her.
I loved Anastasia Steele, and I knew she loved me back. But I was also aware that, just like me, she wasn't expecting romance in her life. I wondered if she had realised she loved me, and I, her. I wondered how she'd react when she found out.
I loved Anastasia Steele, and I didn't know what I'd do if I lost her. But there was no sense in dwelling on it as she lay there, between my arms, happy to have me in her life.
'I love you,' I thought as I stared at her peaceful face.
And with my sunshine in my arms, I fell asleep.
LINE
My alarm woke me up the next morning, at 5:30 a.m. I was disoriented for a few moments before I remembered I was in Georgia, with Anastasia.
I climbed out of bed slowly, trying not to awaken her yet. I went to the bathroom to relieve myself and wash my teeth before calling the front desk to ask for breakfast. It was still too early for them to start serving food, but there were perks of being extremely rich.
As I waited for our breakfast to be delivered, I picked up the pile of clothes we'd left on the bathroom floor. Then, I rummaged in my suitcase, looking for clean clothes for the both of us, including the gifts I'd bought for Anastasia in New York. Once I'd put on jeans and a t-shirt, I set aside Anastasia's bra and shorts. I gathered she'd want clean underwear and a shirt that wasn't wrinkled, so I added a pair of boxers, socks and a white 'Grey Enterprises Holdings' t-shirt to her pile. Finally, I placed the kitten sweatshirt on top, and the bag with new shoes next to her clothes.
I walked towards the head of the bed and brushed Anastasia's shoulder.
"Morning, sunshine," I whispered as her eyes fluttered open. She looked around the room, confused, and closed her eyes once again.
"No morning," she whined as she hid her face under the sheets. "Still night. Bye-bye."
"Up you go, sweetheart," I said as I pulled the bedding downwards, uncovering her.
What a pleasant sight.
Anastasia's loaned t-shirt had ridden up while she slept, revealing her naked ass. She hastily covered herself, bringing the show to an early ending.
"There's somewhere I'd like to take you," I insisted, but Anastasia continued to feign sleep. I spanked her covered ass and she jumped slightly. I had gathered that would catch her attention. "Come on, Anastasia. I won't say it again. You don't want me to get in a foul mood this early, do you?"
She sat up, groaning.
"There, was it so difficult, my sunshine?"
"I can be your Ana or your Beauty, but not your sunshine, you Beast," she grumbled, sleepy.
I chuckled. "You Beast! I've heard worse. Now, get out of bed. I want to chase the dawn with you."
"The dawn?" she asked, frowning adorably.
I ignored her question. I wanted to surprise her.
"Mia told me you can buy lots of stuff in New York which you can't get anywhere else," I said instead. "It would seem she was right. I saw this and thought of you."
I pointed towards the pile of clothes I'd left for her by the foot of the bed. She grabbed the sweatshirt from the top of the pile and analysed the cat with squinted eyes and a small smile.
"A kitty!" she suddenly exclaimed, excited. If only she'd reacted half as cheerfully months ago because of her brand-new car. "You never did tell me why you call me that."
"It's for me to know and for you to wonder."
"You're not calling me a pussy, are you?"
A pussy?
The girl who'd stepped into a BDSM club with no previous experience out of curiosity? The one who'd let me tie her up in hundreds of positions and fuck her till she couldn't walk? The one who'd allowed me to cover her eyes before doing kinky things to her?
The one who'd got pissed at me and hadn't been afraid to call me out on my shit?
Who would dare to call Anastasia a pussy?
Why would she think I'd believe her to be a pussy?
I could feel my eyes widening in surprise.
"Nobody in their right mind would call you a pussy. You're probably the bravest girl I know. Not only do you let me tie you up and do wicked things with you, but you also have a backbone and are never afraid to talk back to me."
"Why, thank you, Mr Grey," she answered with flushed cheeks and a shy self-satisfied smile. "Flattery will get you nowhere, though. I'm still not happy about being woken up this early."
I grabbed her new pair of sneakers with a book pattern. "And if I give you this?" I asked as I showed her the gift.
"Oh! They're lovely!" she exclaimed, her excitement growing. "Thank you, Christian! You've been very thoughtful."
I couldn't help but smile back at her.
I had been somehow thoughtful, hadn't I? I had gone out of my way and walked for over an hour through one of the busiest streets of New York just to get Anastasia gifts she would love—instead of an expensive gift I thought she should like—just because I wanted to get her something nice.
Because I'd wanted to make her happy.
Nevertheless, it had been only a couple of cheap things.
"It's nothing, beautiful. Now get dressed." I walked out of the room to wait for our breakfast.
Soon enough, someone knocked on the door. I opened it to find the room service and watched as the hotel employee set the tea service, coffee and half a dozen pastries on the table.
No sooner had the employee left than Anastasia got out of the bedroom, looking lovely in the clothes I'd set up for her.
She remained silent as she prepared her tea, not uncomfortable like the first time we'd had breakfast together—at a different hotel—but rather still sleepy and tired.
As she sipped her tea, she nibbled on half a croissant before setting it aside.
I frowned. That was not a proper breakfast.
"Is that all you're going to eat?"
"It's all I can stomach down at this hour of the day. I promise to eat more later. What time is it?"
"About quarter to six. We need to hurry up or we'll be late."
A few minutes later, we were climbing into my rental car.
"Nice ride," she commented. It was a sleek sports car, as enjoyable to ride as it was to look at.
"Sometimes it's nice being me" I answered with a smug smile.
"Where are we going?" Anastasia asked five minutes into the drive.
"To indulge in my second favourite pastime."
"Second?"
"You are the main one, Anastasia. Are you ready for another first?"
"After meeting your sister, I'm ready for anything."
I chuckled. "She's a tornado, isn't she?"
"A lovely one. And the reason they name them after women," she answered with a small smirk, her tone teasing yet pleasant.
That was a good one.
"I have to check if there's a tornado named Mia," I said to myself.
"Elliot would love that."
Just then, we drove into the airfield.
"You don't fly planes apart from helicopters, do you?"
I laughed softly. "No, beautiful, I fly gliders."
"And you're taking me gliding? Awesome!" she exclaimed, making me smile. I was glad she was anticipating it as much as me, even if she wasn't a fan of heights.
I was looking forward to chasing the sun with my sunshine by my side.