Chapter 64 (1/2)

“You know, when you fell into my office to interview me, you were all ‘Yes, sir,’ ‘No, sir.’ I thought you were a natural-born submissive. But quite frankly, Anastasia, I’m not sure you have a submissive bone in your delectable body.” I walk the few steps that separate us and look down into eyes that shine with determination.

“You may be right,” she says.

No. No. I don’t want to be right.

“I want the chance to explore the possibility that you do.” I caress her face and her lower lip with my thumb. “I don’t know any other way, Anastasia. This is who I am.”

“I know,” she says.

Lowering my head so my lips hover over hers, I wait until she raises her mouth to mine and closes her eyes. I want to give her a brief, chaste kiss, but as our lips touch, she leans in to me, her hands suddenly fisting in my hair, her mouth opening to me, her tongue insistent. I press my hand to the base of her spine, holding her against me, and deepen the kiss, mirroring her fervor.

Christ, I want her.

“I can’t persuade you to stay?” I whisper against the corner of her mouth, as my body responds, hardening with desire.

“No.”

“Spend the night with me.”

“And not touch you? No.”

Damn. The darkness uncoils in my guts, but I ignore it.

“You impossible girl,” I mutter, and pull back, examining her face and her tense, brooding expression.

“Why do I think you’re telling me good-bye?”

“Because I’m leaving now.”

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”

“Christian, I have to think about this. I don’t know if I can have the kind of relationship you want.”

I close my eyes and rest my forehead against hers.

What did you expect, Grey? She’s not cut out for this.

I take a deep breath and kiss her forehead, then bury my nose in her hair, inhaling her sweet, autumnal scent and committing it to memory.

That’s it. Enough.

Stepping back, I release her. “As you wish, Miss Steele. I’ll escort you to the lobby.” I hold out my hand for what could be the last time, and I’m surprised how painful this thought is. She places her hand in mine, and in silence we head down to reception.

“Do you have your valet ticket?” I ask as we reach the lobby. I sound calm and collected, but inside I’m in knots.

From her purse she retrieves the ticket, which I hand to the doorman.

“Thank you for dinner,” she says.

“It’s a pleasure as always, Miss Steele.”

This cannot be the end. I have to show her—demonstrate what this all means, what we can do together. Show her what we can do in the playroom. Then she’ll know. This might be the only way to save this deal. Quickly I turn to her. “You’re moving this weekend to Seattle. If you make the right decision, can I see you on Sunday?” I ask.

“We’ll see. Maybe,” she says.

That’s not a “no.”

I notice the goose bumps on her arms. “It’s cooler now, don’t you have a jacket?” I ask.

“No.”