Fifty Shades of Grey (book 1+ 2)

Chapter 60

"There's that word again."

"You don't like that word?"

"No. It doesn't do it for me at all."

"Oh - I don't know... it seems to have a very beneficial effect on you."

"I'm a beneficial effect, now am ICould you wound my ego any further, Miss Steele?"

"I don't think there's anything wrong with your ego." But even as I say it, I don't feel the conviction of my

words - something elusive crosses my mind, a fleeting thought, but it's lost before I can grasp it.

"You think?" His voice is soft. He's lying beside me, fully clothed, his head propped up on his elbow,

and I am only wearing my bra.

"Why don't you like to be touched?"

"I just don't." He reaches over and plants a soft kiss on my forehead. "So, that email was your idea of a

joke."

I smile apologetically at him and shrug.

"I see. So you are still considering my proposition?"

"Your indecent proposal... yes I am. I have issues though."

He grins down at me as if relieved.

"I'd be disappointed if you didn't."

"I was going to email them to you, but you kind of interrupted me."

"Coitus Interruptus."

"See, I knew you had a sense of humor somewhere in there." I smile.

"Only certain things are funny, Anastasia. I thought you were saying no, no discussion at all." His voice

drops.

"I don't know yet. I haven't made up my mind. Will you collar me?" Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

He raises his eyebrows.

"You have been doing your research. I don't know, Anastasia. I've never collared anyone."

Oh... should I be surprised by thisI know so little about the scene... I don't know.

"Were you collared?" I whisper.

"Yes."

"By Mrs. Robinson?"

"Mrs. Robinson!" he laughs loudly, freely, and he looks so young and carefree, his head thrown back,

his laughter infectious.

I grin back at him.

"I'll tell her you said that, she'll love it."

"You still talk to her regularly?" I can't keep the shock out of my voice.

"Yes." He's serious now.

Oh... and part of me is suddenly insanely jealous - I'm disturbed by the depth of my feeling.

"I see." My voice is tight. "So you have someone you can discuss your alternative lifestyle with, but I'm

not allowed."

He frowns.

"I don't think I've ever thought about it like that. Mrs. Robinson was part of that lifestyle. I told you, she's

a good friend now. If you'd like, I can introduce you to one of my former subs, you could talk to her."

WhatIs he deliberately trying to upset me?

"Is this your idea of a joke?

"No, Anastasia." He's bemused as he shakes his head earnestly.

"No - I'll do this on my own, thank you very much," I snap at him, pulling the duvet up to my chin.

He stares at me, at sea, surprised.

"Anastasia, I... " He's lost for words. A first, I think. "I didn't mean to offend you."

"I'm not offended. I'm appalled."

"Appalled?"

"I don't want to talk to one of your ex-girlfriends... slave... sub... whatever you call them."

"Anastasia Steele - are you jealous?"

I flush, crimson.

"Are you staying?"

"I have a breakfast meeting tomorrow at the Heathman. Besides, I told you, I don't sleep with

girlfriends, slaves, subs, or anyone. Friday and Saturday night were exceptions.

It won't happen again." I can hear the resolve behind his soft, husky voice.

I purse my lips at him.

"Well I'm tired now."

"Are you kicking me out?" He raises his eyebrows at me, amused and a little dismayed.

"Yes."

"Well that's another first." He eyes me speculatively. "So nothing you want to discuss nowAbout the

contract."

"No." I reply petulantly.

"God, I'd like to give you a good hiding. You'd feel a lot better, and so would I."

"You can't say things like that... I haven't signed anything yet."

"A man can dream, Anastasia." He leans over me and grasps my chin. "Wednesday?"

he murmurs, and he kisses me lightly on my lips.

"Wednesday," I agree. "I'll see you out. If you give me a minute." I sit up and grab my t-shirt, pushing

him out of the way. Amused and reluctant, he gets up off the bed.

"Please pass me my sweat pants."

He collects them from the floor and hands them to me.

"Yes, ma'am." He's trying unsuccessfully to hide his smile.

I narrow my eyes at him as I slip the pants on. My hair is a state, and I know I'll have to face the

Katherine Kavanagh Inquisition after he's gone. Grabbing a hair tie, I walk to my bedroom door,

opening it slightly checking for Kate. She is not in the living area. I think I can hear her on the phone in

her room. Christian follows me out. During the short walk from bedroom to front door, my thoughts and

feelings ebb and flow, transforming. I'm no longer angry with him, I feel suddenly unbearably shy. I

don't want him to go. For the first time, I'm wishing he was - normal - wanting a normal relationship that

doesn't need a ten-page agreement, a flogger, and karabiners in his playroom ceiling.

I open the door for him and stare down at my hands. This is the first time I have ever had sex in my

home, and as sex goes, I think it was pretty damn fine. But now I feel like a receptacle - an empty

vessel to be filled at his whim. My subconscious shakes her head.

You wanted to run to the Heathman for sex - you had it express-delivered. She crosses her arms and

taps her foot with a what-are-you-complaining-about-look on her face. Christian stops in the doorway

and clasps my chin, forcing my eyes to meet his. His brow creases slightly.

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