Chapter 132 (1/2)

“So I get to sleep with you? In your bed?”

“Is that what you want?”

“Yes.”

“I agree, then. Besides, I sleep very well when you’re in my bed. I had no idea.”

“I was frightened you’d leave me if I didn’t agree to all of it,” she says, her face a little pale.

“I’m not going anywhere, Anastasia. Besides—” How can she think that? I need to reassure her. “We’re following your advice, your definition: compromise. You e-mailed it to me. And so far, it’s working for me.”

“I love that you want more.”

“I know.” My tone is warm.

“How do you know?”

“Trust me. I just do.” You told me in your sleep.

The waitress returns with our breakfast and I watch Ana devour it. “More” seems to be working for her.

“This is delicious,” she says.

“I like that you’re hungry.”

“Must have been all the exercise last night and the thrill this morning.”

“It was a thrill, wasn’t it?”

“It was mighty fine, Mr. Grey,” she says as she pops the final piece of pancake into her mouth. “Can I treat you?” she adds.

“Treat me how?”

“Pay for this meal.”

I snort. “I don’t think so.”

“Please. I want to.”

“Are you trying to completely emasculate me?” I raise an eyebrow in warning.

“This is probably the only place that I’ll be able to afford to pay.”

“Anastasia, I appreciate the thought. I do. But no.”

She purses her lips with irritation when I ask the redhead for the check. “Don’t scowl,” I warn, and check the time: it’s 8:30. I have a meeting at 11:15 with the Savannah Brownfield Redevelopment Authority, so unfortunately we have to get back to the city. I contemplate canceling the meeting, because I’d like to spend the day with Ana, but no, that’s too much. I’m running after this girl when I should be concentrating on my business.

Priorities, Grey.

With her hand in mine, we head to the car looking like any other couple. She’s swamped in my sweatshirt, looking casual, relaxed, beautiful—and yes, she’s with me. Three guys strolling into IHOP check her out; she’s oblivious even when I put my arm around her to stake my claim. She really has no idea how lovely she is. I open her car door and she gives me a sunny smile.

I could get used to this.

I program her mother’s address into the GPS and we set off north on I-95, listening to the Foo Fighters. Ana’s feet tap to the beat. This is the sort of music she likes—all-American rock. The traffic on the freeway is heavier now, with commuters heading into the city. But I don’t care: I like being here with her, spending time. Holding her hand, touching her knee, watching her smile. She tells me about previous visits to Savannah; she’s not keen on the heat, either, but her eyes light up when she talks about her mother. It’ll be interesting to see her interacting with her mother and stepfather this evening.

I pull up outside her mother’s home with some regret. I wish we could play hooky all day; the last twelve hours have been…nice.

More than nice, Grey. Sublime.

“Do you want to come in?” she asks.

“I need to work, Anastasia, but I’ll be back this evening. What time?”

She suggests seven, then looks from her hands to me, her eyes bright and joyful. “Thank you…for the more.”

“My pleasure, Anastasia.” I lean over and kiss her, inhaling her sweet, sweet scent.

“I’ll see you later.”

“Try to stop me,” I whisper.

She climbs out of the car, still in my sweatshirt, and waves good-bye. I head back to the hotel, feeling a little emptier now that she’s not with me.