He wraps me in his arms, holding me close. “When I think what might have hap-

pened,” he breathes, burying his face in my hair.

“When will you learn that I’m stronger than I look?” I whisper reassuringly into his

neck, inhaling his delicious scent. There is nothing better on the planet than being in Chris-

tian’s arms.

“I know you’re strong,” Christian muses quietly. He kisses my hair, then to my great

disappointment, releases me. Oh?

Bending down I fish another item out of the open drawer. Several cuffs attached to a

bar. I hold it up.

“That,” says Christian, his eyes darkening, “is a spreader bar with ankle and wrist

restraints.”

“How does it work?” I ask, genuinely intrigued. My inner goddess pops her head out

of her bunker.

“You want me to show you?” he breathes in surprise, closing his eyes briefly.

I blink at him. When he opens his eyes, they are blazing.

Oh my.“Yes, I want a demonstration. I like being tied up,” I whisper as my inner god-

dess pole vaults from the bunker onto her chaise longue.

“Oh, Ana,” he murmurs. He looks pained all of a sudden.

“What?”

“Not here.”

“What do you mean?”

“I want you in my bed, not in here. Come.” He grabs the bar and my hand, then leads

me promptly out of the room.

Why are we leaving? I glance behind me as we exit. “Why not in there?”

Christian stops on the stairs and gazes up at me, his expression grave.

“Ana, you may be ready to go back in there, but I’m not. Last time we were in there,

you left me. I keep telling you—when will you understand?” He frowns, releasing me so

that he can gesticulate with his free hand.

“My whole attitude has changed as a result. My whole outlook on life has radically

shifted. I’ve told you this. What I haven’t told you is—” He stops and runs his hand through

his hair, searching for the correct words. “I’m like a recovering alcoholic, okay? That’s the

only comparison I can draw. The compulsion has gone, but I don’t want to put temptation

in my way. I don’t want to hurt you.”

He looks so remorseful, and in that moment, a sharp nagging pain lances through me.

What have I done to this man? Have I improved his life? He was happy before he met me,

wasn’t he?

“I can’t bear to hurt you because I love you,” he adds, gazing up at me, his expression

one of absolute sincerity like a small boy telling a very simple truth.

He’s completely guileless, and he takes my breath away. I adore him more than any-

thing or anyone. I dolove this man unconditionally.

I launch myself at him so hard that he has to drop what he’s carrying to catch me as

I push him up against the wall. Grabbing his face between my hands, I pull his lips to

mine. I can taste his surprise as I push my tongue into his mouth. I am standing on the step

above him—we’re at the same level, and I feel euphorically empowered. Kissing him pas-

sionately, my fingers twisting into his hair, I want to touch him, everywhere, but restrain

myself, knowing his fear. Regardless, my desire unfurls, hot and heavy, blossoming deep

inside me. He groans and grabs my shoulders, pushing me away.

“Do you want me to fuck you on the stairs?” he mutters, his breathing ragged. “Be-

cause right now, I will.”

“Yes,” I murmur and I’m sure my dark gaze matches his.

He glares at me, his eyes hooded and heavy. “No. I want you in my bed.” He scoops

me up suddenly over his shoulder, making me squeal, loudly, and smacks me hard on my

behind, so that I squeal again. As he heads down the stairs, he stoops to pick up the fallen

spreader bar.

Mrs. Jones is coming out of the utility room when we pass through the hall. She smiles

at us, and I give her an apologetic upside-down wave. I don’t think Christian notices her.

In the bedroom, he sets me down on my feet and drops the spreader on to the bed.

“I don’t think you’ll hurt me,” I breathe.

“I don’t think I’ll hurt you, either,” he says. He takes my head in his hands and kisses

me, long and hard, igniting my already heated blood.

“I want you so much,” he whispers against my mouth, panting. “Are you sure about

this—after today?’

“Yes. I want you, too. I want to undress you.” I can’t wait to get my hands on him—my

fingers are itching to touch him.

His eyes widen and for a moment, he hesitates, perhaps to consider my request.

“Okay,” he says cautiously.

I reach for the second button on his shirt and hear him catch his breath.

“I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to,” I whisper.

“No,” he responds quickly. “Do. It’s fine. I’m good,” he mutters.

I gently undo the button and my fingers glide down his shirt to the next. His eyes are

large and luminous, his lips parted as his breathing shallows. He is so beautiful, even in his

fear . . . because of his fear. I undo the third button and notice his soft hair poking through

the large Vof the shirt.

“I want to kiss you there,” I murmur.

He inhales sharply. “Kiss me?”

“Yes,” I murmur.

His gasps as I undo the next button and very slowly lean forward, making my intention

clear. He’s holding his breath, but stands stock-still as I plant a gentle kiss among the soft,

exposed curls. I undo the final button and lift my face to him. He’s gazing at me, and there’s

a look of satisfaction, calm, and . . . wonder on his face.

“It’s getting easier, isn’t it?” I whisper.

He nods as I slowly push his shirt off his shoulders and let it fall to the floor.

“What have you done to me, Ana?” he murmurs. “Whatever it is, don’t stop.” And he

gathers me in his arms, fisting both his hands in my hair and pulling my head right back so

that he can have easy access to my throat.

He runs his lips up to my jaw, nipping softly. I groan. Oh, I want this man. My fingers

fumble at his waistband, undoing the button and pulling down the zipper.

“Oh, baby,” he breathes as he kisses me behind my ear. I feel his erection, firm and

hard, straining against me. I want him—in my mouth. I step back abruptly and drop to my

knees.

“Whoa?” he gasps.

I tug his pants and boxers sharply, and he springs free. Before he can stop me, I take

him into my mouth, sucking hard, enjoying his shocked astonishment as his mouth drops

open. He gazes down at me, watching my every move, eyes so dark and filled with carnal

bliss. Oh my. I sheath my teeth and suck harder. He closes his eyes and surrenders to this

blissful carnal pleasure is so arousing. I know what I do to him, and it’s hedonistic, liberat-

ing, and sexy as hell. The feeling is heady, I’m not just powerful—I’m omniscient.

“Fuck,” he hisses and gently cradles my head, flexing his hips so he moves deeper

inside my mouth. Oh yes, I want this and I swirl my tongue around him, pulling hard . . .

over and over.

“Ana.” He tries to step back.

Oh no you don’t, Grey. I want you.I grab his hips firmly, doubling my efforts, and I

can tell he’s close.

“Please,” he pants. “I’m gonna come, Ana,” he groans.

Good. My inner goddess’s head is thrown back in ecstasy, and he comes, loudly and

wetly, into my mouth.

He opens his bright gray eyes, gazing down at me, and I smile up at him, licking my

lips. He grins back at me, a wicked, salacious grin.

“Oh, so this is the game we’re playing, Miss Steele?” He bends, hooks his hands under

my arms, and pulls me to my feet. Suddenly his mouth is on mine. He groans.

“I can taste myself. You taste better,” he murmurs against my lips. He tugs my T-shirt

off and throws it carelessly onto the floor, then picks me up and tosses me onto the bed.