by E. L. James
"Please," I beg and he grins ... a salacious, w icked. templing. all-Fift gnu
He crawls back onto the bed and trails kisses up my right leg this time . . . un-
lil lie reaches the iipos of nn thighs, lie pushes m 'legs w ider apart.
"Ah . . w ife of mine." he murmurs and then his mouth is on mc. 1 close my
eyes and surrender to his, oh-so-adroit tongue. My hands fist in his hair as my hips
suing and sway, slave to his rhythm, then buck off the small bed. He grabs my
hips to still me . . . but doesn't stop the delicious torture. I'm close, so close.
■"Christian." I moan.
"Not yet," he breathes and he moves up my body, his tongue dipping into my
"No!" Damn: 1 sense his smile against my belly as his journey continues
"So impatient. Mrs. Grey We have until we touch down on the hmerakl
Isle." Reverentially he kisses my breasts and tugs m left nipple between his lips.
Gazing up at me, his eyes are dark like a tropical storm as he teases me.
Oh my . . . I'd forgotten. Europe.
"Husband, I want you. Please."
He looms up over me, his body covering mine, resting his weight on his el-
bows. He runs his nose down mine, and I run my hands down his strong, supple
back to his fine, fine backside.
"Ana. oh Ana." he breathes .aid lie starts to move.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Christian shouts, waking me
from my very pleasant dream, lie's standing ah wet ami beautiful at the end of my
sun lounger and glaring down at me.
What have I done? Oh no . . . I'm lying on my hark . . . Crap, crap, crap and
he's mad. Shit. He's really mad.
Chapter Two
an suddenly very awake, rr
"I was on my front. I m
His eyes blaze with fury. He reaches down, sc
"Put this on!'
ds up my bikini top from his
Holy shit! Why do I keep forgetting about them? I grasp my breasts in panic,
hiding them. Ever since Charlie Tango's sabotaged demise, we are constantly
shadow ed by damned security
"Yes," Christian snarls " nd some sleazy fucking paparazzi could get a shot
of you, too. Do you want to be all over the cover of Star magazine? Naked this
Shit! The paparazzi! Fuck! As I hurriedly scramble into my top, all thumbs,
ihe color drains from my face. 1 shudder. The unpleasant memory of being be-
sieged by the papal, z outside li' i Iter our cni ..i u is leaked comes un-
welcome to mind — all part of the Christian Grey package.
"L addition! " Christian snaps at the passing waitress. "We're going," he says
"Now?"
"Yes. Now."
Oh shit, he's not to be argued with.
lie pails on his shorts, even though his trunks are dripping wet. then his gray
T-shirt. The waitress is back in a moment v. ill) his credit card and the check.
Rcluctanth Iw nto my lu i i p into my flip-flops.
Once the waitress has left, Christian snatches up his book and BlackBcrry and
masks his fury behind mirrored ax iator glasses, lie's bristling with tension and an-
ger. My heart sinks. Every other woman on the beach is topless — it's not that big
of a crime. In fact I look odd with my top on. I sigh inwardly, my spirits sinking. I
thought Christian would see the funny side ... sort of .. . maybe if I'd stayed on
my front, but his sense of humor litis evaporated.
him and placing them in my backpack.
"Too late for that," he says quietly — too quietly. "Come." Taking my hand,
he signals up to Taylor and his two sidekicks, the French security officers Phil-
ippe and Gaston. Weirdly, they are identical twins. They have been patiently
watching us and everyone else on the beach from the verandah. Why do I keep
forgetting about them? How'.' Tay lor i- slony-faced behind his dark glasses. Shit,
he's mad at me, too I'm slill nol .. eing i illy dressed in shorts
and a black polo shirt.
Christian leads me into the hotel, through the lobby, and out onto the street.
He remains silent, broodii - and b n -ten icrcd ai d i - ill nn fault. Taylor and
his learn shadow us.
■'Where are we going?" I ask lenlaliel>. gazing up al him.
"Back to the boat." He doesn't look at me.
I have no idea ol'lhe lime. ; think il musl he about fi e or six in the afternoon.
When we reach the 1 i 1 1 i Christ i ids n loth 1 here the motorboat
and Jet Ski belonging to the Lady arc moored. As ( hristian unties the Jet Ski,
I hand my backpae ! to Ta loi I gl i nci oi 1 up hint but like Christian,
his expression gi es nothing aw a . I flush, thinking about w hat he's seen on the
"Here you go, Mrs. Grey." Taylor passes me a life vest from the motorboat,
and I dutifully put it on. Why am 1 the only one who has to wear a life jacket?
1 h Mi ind Ta ir exel ing i m 1 ind I ol Ic i n illt Tayloi
too? Christian then hit! i i i> life jacket ching the middle one
tightly.
"You'll do," he mutters sullenly, still not turning to look at me. Shit.
lie climbs gracefully on to the Jet Ski and Isolds ottl his hand for mc to join
him. Grasping it tightly, 1 manage to throw my leg over the scat behind him
boat. Christian kicks the Jet Ski awa from the dock, and it floats gently into the
of traveling by Jet Ski. I hug him closely. m nose nuzzling into his back, mar-
veling that Iherc was a lime when he would no! have tolerated me touching him
this way. He smells good ... of Christian and the sea. Forgive me, Christian,
please?
He stiffens. "Steady," he says, his tone softer. I kiss his back and rest my
cheek againsl him. looking hack tow are! lite dock w here a lew holidaymakers have
gathered to watch the show.
Christian turns the key and the motor roars to life. With one twist of the ac-
celerator, the Jet Ski bucks forward and speeds across the cool dark water,
through the marina and out to the center of the harbor toward the Fair Lady. I
hold him tighter. I love this — it's so exciting. Every muscle in Christian's lean
frame is evident as I cling to him.
Taylorpullx ilontj n Ihe molorboal 1 lian glai s rt him then accel-
erates again, and we shoot forward, whipping over the top of the water like an ex-
pertly tossed pebble. Taylor -hake* iiis head in resigned exasperation and heads
straight to the yacht, while C hrislian shouts past die l-'aii Lady and heads out to-
ward the open water.
The sea spray is splashing lis. the warm wind bu Holing my face and flaying
my ponytail crazily around me 1 his is so much Inn. Mas be the thrill of this ride
will dispel Christian's bad mood. I can't see his face, but I know he's enjoying
himself earei'rec. aclit 1 ' i i i i
He steers in a huge semicircle and I study the shoreline — the boats in the
marina, the mosaic ol I 1 whit I sand-i ired ollit ind apartments, and
the cragg mountains behind. It looks so disorganized — not the regimented blocks
that I am used to — but so picturesque. Christian glances over his shoulder at me,
and there's the ghosi ol'a smile play ing on his lips
■'Again'.'" he shouts over the noise of the engine.
I nod enthusiastically. His answering grin is dazzling, and he opens the
throttle and speeds around the Fair Lady and on out to sea once more . . . and I
dunk Tin forgiven.
"You've caught the sun," Christian says mildly as he undoes my life vest. I
anxiously tr to assc lit d. 1 t t i u t leht and one of the
stewards is standing i I i iting for my hi i hristian passes it to
"Will that be all, sir?" the young man asks. I love his French accent. Christian
letting them hang.
"Do I need one?"
lie eoeks his head to one side. "Why would you say thai'.'" ills voice is soli.
"You know why."
lie frowns as if weighing something in his mind.
Oh. what is he thinking''
"Two gin and tonics, please. And some nuts and olives," he says to the stew-
ard, who nods and quickly vanishes.
"You think I'm going to punish you?" Cliri a.ian's voice is silky.
"Do you want to?"
"Yes."
"How?"
"I'll think of som I in 1 i you rink ^nd it's a sen-
sual threat. I swallow . and my inner goddess squint.- from her sun lounger where
she's in ing to catch rays \ ith a silvci relleclor fanned on! al her neck.
Christian's frowns once more.
"You want to be?"
' Depends." 1 mullet. I
"On what?" lie hides his smile.
His mouth presses into a hard line, humor forgotten. He leans forward and
kisses my forehead.
"Anastasia, you're my wife, not my sub. 1 don't ever want to hurt you. You
should know that by now. Just . . . jusl don't lake your clothes off in public. 1
don't want you naked ah ocr [he tabloids. You (inn'; want that, and I'm sure your
Oh! Ray. Holy shit, he'd have a coronary. What was I thinking? I mentally
castigate myself.
"Sil." Christian commands. I do as he says and seitle into a director's chair.
Christian takes a seat beside me and passes me a gin and ionic.
"Cheers, Mrs. Grey."
"Cheers. Mi Grc It I I i II and de-
licious. When I gaze nl him. he's ualching me carefully, his mood unreadable, ii's
very frustrating ... I don't know if he's still mad at me. I deploy my patented dis-
traction technique.
"Who owns this boat?" I ask.
"A British knight. Sir Somebody-or-Other. His great-grandlalher stalled a
grocery store. His d ughler's married ifth i tees ol Europe."
Oh. "Super-rich?"
Christian looks suddenly wary. "Yes."
"Like you," I murmur.
"Yes."
Oh.
"And like you," Christian whispers and pops an olie into his mouth. I blink
rapidly ... a vision of him in his tux and silver waistcoat comes to mind ... his
eyes burning with sincerity as he gazes down at me during our wedding
ceremony.
"All that is mine is now yours, " he says, his voice ringing out clearly reciting
his vows from memory.
All mine? Holy cow. "It's odd. Going from nothing to" — I wave my hand to
indicate our opulent surroundings — to everything."
"You'll get used to it."
Taylor appears on deck. "Sir, you have a call." Christian frowns but takes the
proffered BlackBerry.
"Grey," he snaps and rises from his seat to stand at the bow of the yacht.
number two. I am rich . . . stinking rich. I have done nothing to earn this
money . . . just married a rich man. I shudder as my mind drifts back to our con-
versation about prenups. ll \ as the Sunda alia his birlhdas . and we were seated
at iho kitchen table enjoying a leisurely breakfasl . . . all of us. L ; llioi. Kaie. Grace,
and I were debating the merit ol'b n rsus i gc lil ( aiitck and Christi-
an read the Sunday paper . . .
—
"Look al this." squeals Mia as she sc!s her nelbook on ;he kitchen (able in from of
us. "There's a gossipy item on the Seattle Nooz website about you being engaged,
Christian."
""Already?" Grace says in surprise. Then her mouth purses as some obviously
unpleasant thought crosses her mind. (. hristian frowns.
Mia reads the column out loud. "Word has reached us here at The Nooz that
Seattle's most eligible bachelor, tin Christian tire;., litis finally been snapped up
and wedding bells arc in the air. But who is the lucky, lucky lady? The Nooz is on
the hunt. Bet she's i ad g 01 hellu a ire
Mia giggles then stops abruptly as Christian glares at her. Silence descends,
and the atmosphere in the Grey kitchen plunges to below zero.
Oh no! A prenup'' Die thought has neer crossed my mmd. I swallow, feeling
all the blood drain from my lace. Phasi ground. >««far /'to up now! Christian
- ills uncomlbrtabl in hi hail i I glaiu ipprchensivcly al him
"No," he mouths at me.
"I'm not discussing this again," he snaps at Carrick who glances at me
"No prenup!" Christian almost shouts at him and broodingly goes back to
reading his papci ignorii runic el he lab 1! I ok ilternalely al me
then him . . . then anywhere but at the two of us.
wouldn't be the I'irsl lime he's made me sign something, ('hristian looks up and
"It's to protect you."
"Chrislian. Ana I think you should discuss this in private." Grace admon-
ishes ns. She glares a! (. arriek and Mia. < )h dear, looks like they're in trouble, too.
"Ana, this is not about you." Carrick murmurs reassuringly. "And please call
(. hristian narrows cold eyes at his father and my heart sinks. Hell . . . He's
really mad.
Everyone erupts into animated com ersalion. and Mia and Kate leap up to
clear the table.
"I definitely prefer sausage," exclaims Elliot.
I stare down at my knotted fingers. Crap. I hope Mr. and Mrs. Grey don't
think I'm some kind of gold digger. Christian reaches over and grasps both my
hand;, gently in one of his.
"Stop it."
How docs he know what I'm thinking?
"Ignore my dad," Christian says so only I can hear him. "He's really pissed
about Elena. That stuff was all aimed at me. I wish my mom had kept her mouth
I know Christian is Mill smarting from las "talk" will] Carrick about Elena
last night.
"He has a point, Christian. You're very wealthy, and I'm bringing nothing to
our marriage but my student loans."
Christian gazes at me, his eyes bleak. "Anastasia, if you leave me, you might
as well take everything. You letl me onee before. 1 know how that feels."
Holy Fuck! "Thai w as different." I w hisper. nun ed by ins intensity. "But . . .
yon might want to lea e me." The thought makes mc sick.
He snorts and shake, his head willi mock disgust.
"Christian, you know ] might do something exceptionally stupid — and
you ..." I glance down at my knotted hands, pain lancing through mc, and I'm
unable to finish my sentence. Losing Christian . . . Iik k
"Stop. Stop now. This subject is closed, Ana. We're not discussing il any
more. No prenup. Not now — not ever." He gives me a pointed give-it-up-now
look, whieh silences me. Then he iurns to Grace. "Mom." lie says. "Can wc have
the wedding here?"
—
And he's not mentioned it again. In loci al every opportunity he's tried to reassure
me about his wealth . . . that's it mine. loo. I shuddei as J recall the crazy shopping
I'esl C hristian demanded I go on v ith Caroline Acton die personal shopper from
Niemans �
� in preparation for this honex moon. M> bikini alone cost five hundred
and forty dollars. I mean, it's nice, but really — that's a ridiculous amount of
money for [bur triangular scraps of malarial.
"You will get used to it," Christian interrupts my reverie as he resumes his
place at the table.
"Used to it?"
"The money." he says, rolling his eyes.
Oh. Fiftv. mavbe with time. I push the small dish of salted almonds and
cashews toward him.
"Your nuts, sir," I say with as straight a face as ! can manage, trying to bring
some humor to our conversation after my dark thoughts and my bikini top faux
He smirks. "I'm mils about xou." lie lakes an almond, his exes sparkling with
wicked humor as he enjoys my little joke. I le licks ins lips "Drink up. We're go-
ing to bed."
What?
"Drink." he moulhs at me. his eyes darkening.
Oh my, the look he gives me could be solely responsible for global warming.
I pickup my gin and (Irani the glass, not taking nix exes off him. His mouth drops
open, and I glimpse the tip of his tongue between his teeth. He smiles lewdly al
me. In one fluid mox e. he stands and bends ox et me. resting his hands on the arms
of my chair.
"I'm going to make an example of you. Come. Don't pee," he whispers in m>
I gasp. Don 't pee'.' How rude. My subconscious looks up from her
book— The Complete works of Charles Dickens, Vol. /—with alarm.
"It's not what you think." Christian smirks, holding his hand out to me.
"Trust me." I le looks so sexy and genial. I low can I resist?
'Okav I pi lee lux h nd ill his. beeai i n i I trust him with my
1 Yhat has he H plan II i tarts pound i uittcipation.
The cabin has been cleaned since this morning and die bed made. It's a lovely
room. With two portholes on both the starboard and port sides, it's elegantly dec-
orated in dark walnni furniture "ill! cream walls and soli furnishings in gold and
red.
Christian releases my hand, pulls his T-shirl oer his head, and tosses it onto
a chair. He steps out of his flip-flops and removes his shorts and trunks in one
graceful move. Oh my. Will I ever tire of looking at him naked? He is utterly gor-
geous and all mine. His skin glows — he's caught the sun, too, and his hair is
.a. i lopi ng e his Ibi head I imni» li ky, lucky girl.
He grasps my chin pulling slightly m> dial 1 slop biting my lip and runs his
thumb along my lower lip.
"That's better." He turns and strides ocr to the impressive armoire that
houses his clothes. He produces two pairs of metal handcuffs and an airline eye
mask from the bottom drawer.
Handcuffs! We'v
the bed. Where the ht
He holds up one pair.
Holy fuck. My mouth goes dry.
"Here." He stalk gi ly lot rd an mds me a Do you want to try
They feel solid, the metal cold. Vaguely, I hope I never have to wear a pair of
Christian is watching me intently.
"Where are the keys?" My voice wavering.
He holds out his palm, i e ealing a small metallic kc . "This docs both sets. In
fact, all sets."
How many sets does he have? I don't remember seeing any in the museum
He strokes m> cheek w iih his index finger, trailing it down to my mouth. He
leans in as if to kiss me.
"Do you want to play?" he says, his voice low, and everything in my body
heads south as desire unfurls deep in my belly.
"Yes," I breathe.
He smiles. "Good." lie plants a fealherlighl kiss on m> forehead. "We're go-
ing to need a safe word."
What?
"Stop won't be enough because you will probably say that, but you won't
mean in" I Ie rims ins nose dow n mine the onlv conlae! bctw een ns.
My heart starts pounding. Shit . . . How can he do this w iih just words?
"This is not going to hurt. It will be intense Vers intense, because 1 am not
going to let you move. Okay?"
Oh my. This sounds so hot. My breathing is too loud. Fuck, I am panting
already. My inner goddess lias her sequins on and is wanning up to dance the
i i rhank I i 1 i t 1 1 L. Ml n i 1 c ih (i 1 1
rassing. My eyes flick down to his arousal.
"Okay." My voice is barely audible.
"Choose a word, Ana."
Oh...
"A safe word," he says softly.
"Popsiclc?" he says, amused.
"Yes."
tosses it on the floor. He holds out his hand, and I give him back the handcuffs.
He places both sets on the bedside table along with the blindfold and yanks the
quilt off the bed, letting it fall to the floor.
"Turn round."
I turn, and lie undoes im bikini top so that n falls to the flour.
"Tomorrow, I will staple this to you," he mutters and tugs on my hair tie,
freeing my hair. He gathers it into one hand and yanks gently so I step back
against him. Against Ins chest. Against his erection. I gasp as he pulls my head to
one side and kisses my neck.
"You were very disobedient," he murmurs in my ear, sending delicious
shivers through me.
"Yes," I whisper.
""llmm. \ ha rc c goint " do ho I in il 1
"Learn to live with it." I breathe. UK soft languid hisses are driving me wild.
He grins against my neck.
"Ah, Mrs. Grey. You are ever the optimist."
lie straighten-.. Taking my hair, he carefully pruts it into three strands, braids
it slowly, and then fastens my hair tie to the end. He tugs my braid gently ami
leans down to my ear. "I am going to teach you a lesson," he murmurs.
Moving suddenl h. .i I m h in .is' ils l- n on the bed, and yanks
mc across his knee 111 nn belly. He smacks
my backside once, hard. I yelp, then I'm on my back on the bed, and he's gazing
down at me, his eyes molten gray. I'm going to combust.
"Do you know lie 1 .', beautiful you are?" lie trails his fingertips up my thigh so
that I tingle . . . everywhere. Without taking his eyes off me, he gets up from the
bed and gathers both, sets of handcuffs, lie grasps my left leg and snaps one cuff
Oh!
Lifting my right leg, he repeats the process so 1 have a pair of handcuffs at-
tached to each ankle. 1 still have no idea where he's going to attach them.
' Sit up he okLi I l immediately.
"Now hug your knees."
I blink al him then draw my legs up so they are bent in front of me and wrap
on my lips before slipping the blindfold o er nn eyes. I can sec nothing, all I can
hear is my rapid breathing and the seal id id' i lie water lapping against the sides of
the yacht as she bobs gently on the sea.
Oh my. 1 am so aroused . . . already.
""What'-, the -ale word. Anasiasia?"
"Popsicle."
"Good." Taking my left hand, he snaps a cuff around my wrist then repeats
the process with nn g i 'I il ini is ied o nn i t nklc m light hand to
the right leg. 1 cannot straighten my legs. Holy fuck.
"Now," Christian breathes. "I'm going lo fuck you till you scream."
IVIui!'.' And all the air leaves my body.
He grasps both of m heels and lips me back so dial I fall backward on to the
bed. I have no choice but to keep my legs bent. The cuffs tighten as I pull agains
t
them. He's right . . . they cut into me almost to the point of pain . . . This feels
weird — being trussed up and helpless — on a boat. He pulls my ankles apart, anil I
He kisses my inner thigh, and 1 want to squirm beneath him, but I can't. I
have no purchase to move my hips. My feet are suspended. I cannot move. Holy
shit.
"You're going to have to absorb all the pleasure, Anastasia. No moving," he
murmurs as he craw Is up m> body, kissing me along the edge of my bikini bot-
toms. He pulls the siring- on each side, and die scraps of material fall away. 1 am
now naked and at h 1' I i i navel with his teeth.
"Ah," 1 sigh Hi s going lo be lough I had no idea. He traces soil kisses
and little bites up to my breasts.
"Shhh . . . ," he soothes. "You are so beautiful, Ana."
I groan, frustrated. Normalb I'd be grinding my hips, responding to his touch
with a rhythm of my own, but 1 cannot move. 1 moan, pulling on my restraints.
The metal biles into my skin.
ing me wild. He doesn't stop. It's maddening. Oh. Please. His erection pushes
"Christian." I beg and fee! his triumphant smile against m skin.
"Shall 1 make you come this way?" He murmurs against my nipple, causing il
to harden some more. "You know I can." He suckles me hard and I cry out, pleas-
ure lancing from my chest directly to my groin. I pull helplessly on the cuffs,
swamped by the sensation.
"Yes," 1 whimper.
"Oh. bab> . thai w ould be too easy."
"Oh . . . please."
"Shh." His teeth scrape my chin as he trails his lips to my mouth, and I gasp.
He kisses me. His skilled tongue invades my mouth, tasting, exploring.
dominating, but m I >n 1 ic n c i- hi Hi ngc ' ril ih g i ' liiisl his. He tastes of
cool gin and Christian ( ire . and lie smells of [he sea I le grasps my chin, holding
my head in place.
"'Still, baby. I want you still," he whispers against my mouth.
"I want to see you."
"Oh no, Ana. You'll feel more this way." And agonizingly slowly he flexes
his hips and pushes partway into me. I would normally tilt my pelvis up to meet
him but I can't move. He withdraws.
""Ah! Christian, please!"
"Again.-"" he teases, his voice hoarse.
"Christian!"
lie pushes fractionally into me again then withdraws while kissing inc. his
ii i ii a i ipi 1 I isuie overload.
"No!"
"Do you want me, Anaslasia
"Tell me," he murmurs, his breathing harsh, and he teases me once
"I want you," I whimper. "Please."
"And have me you will, Anastasia."
He rears up and slanis into me. I scream, tilling ni head back, pulling on the
restraints as he hits m; sweet spot, and I am all sensation, everywhere — a sweet,
sw eel agoin . and I cannot move. He stills then circles his hips, and the motion ra-
"Why do you defy me, Ana?"
I Ic circles deep inside me again, ignoring m plea, easing out slowly and then
slamming into me again.
"Tell me. Why?" he hisses, and I'm vaguely aware that it's through gritted
teeth.
I cry out in an incoherent wail . . . this is too much.
"Tell me."
"Christian . . ."
"Ana, I need to know."
lie slams into me again, thrusting so deep, and I'm building ... the feeling is
so intense — it swamp, me. spiraling out from deep « ilhin m belly, to each limb,
to each biting metal restraint.
"I don't know!" I cry out. "Because I can! Because I love you! Please,
Christian."
lie groans loudK and thrusts deep, again and again. oer and over, and I am
lost, trying to absorb the pleasure. It's mind-blow ing . . . body blowing ... I long
ill I t imminent 01 i i I'm hcl|
less. I'm his, just his, to do with as he wills . . . Tears spring to my eyes. This is
too intense. I can't stop him. I don't want to stop him ... I want ... I want ... oh
no, oh no . . . this is too . . .
"That's it." Christian grow Is. ""Feel it, baby!"
I detonate around bin ag u am again round ind round ,ereami z loudb n
my orgasm rips me apart, scorching through me like a wildfire, consuming
everything. I am wrung ragged, tears streaming down my face — my body left
And I'm aware that Christian kneels, ,till inside me. pulling me upright onto
comes violently inside me while m inside-, continue to tremble with aftershocks.
It's draining, it's exhausting, it's hell . . . it's heaven. It's hedonism gone wild.
Christian tears off the blindfold and kisses me. He kisses my eyes, my nose,
"I love you, Mrs. Grey," he breathes. "Even though you make me so mad — I
feel so alive with you." I don't have the energy to open either my eyes or my
I mouth some wordless protest. He climbs off the bed and undoes the hand-
cuffs. When I'm free, he gently rubs my wrists and ankles, then lies down beside
me again, pulling me into his arms. I stretch out my legs. Oh my, that feels good. I
feel good. That w is it 1 i i n t II n , Inn I h tc ever endured.
Hmm ... a Christian Grey Fifty Shades punishment fuck.
I really must misbehave more often.
A pressing need from my bladder wakes me. When I open my eyes, I'm disorient-
ated. It's dark outside. Where am 1? London? Paris? Oh— the boat. I feel her pitch
and roll, and hear (he quiet hum of ihe engines. We're on lire move. How odd.
Christian is beside me, working on his laptop, casually dressed in a white linen
shirt and chino trousers, his feet bare. His hair is still wet, and I can smell his
body wash fresh from lire show or and his ( hrislian smell . . ////;//;.
"Hi," he murmurs, gazing down ai me. hi- e>es warm.
"Hi." I smile, feeling iddenU si llo> long ha e I been asleep'.'"
"Just an hour or so."
"We're moving?"
"I figured since we ate out last night and went to the ballet and the Casino
i 1 i ine on b i i i 1 i i i ;
1 grin at him. "Where are we going?"
"Okay." I stretch, feeling stiff. No amount of training w it li Claude could hac
prepared ;nc for this afternoon.
I rise gingerh . needing the bathroom. ( irabbing no. '.ilk robe, I hastily put it
on. Why am I so shy? I feel Christian's eyes on me. When I glance at him, he re-
turns to his laptop, his brow furrowed.
As I absentmmdedly wash my hands at the vanity unit, recalling last night at
th I i in m i I i I I i li 'I i ii i i i
Holy fuck! What has he done to me?
Chapter Three
I gaze in horror at the red marks all over my breasts. Hickeys! I have hickcys! I
am married to one of the most respected businessmen in the United States, and
he's given me goddamn hickeys. How did I not feel him doing [his to me? 1 flush.
The fact is I know exactly why — Mr. Orgasmic was using his fine-motor sexing
skills on me.
My subconscious peers over her half-moon specs and tuts disapprovingly,
my reflection. My wrists have a red welt around them from the handcuffs. No
been in some sort of accident. I gaze at myself, trying to absorb how I look. My
body is so different these days. It's changed subtly since I've known him . . . I've
become leaner and finer, and my hair is glossy and well en!. My nails ar
e mani-
cured, my feet pedicured, my ey ebrows threaded and beautifully shaped. For the
first time in my life, I'm well groomed — except for these hideous love bites.
I don't want lo think about grooming at die moment. I'm loo mad. How dare
he mark me like this, like some teenager. In the short time we've been together,
he's never given me hiekeys. I look like hell. 1 know win he's done this. Damn
control freak. Right! My subconscious folds her arms beneath her small bos-
om — he's gone loo far this lime. I slalk otil of the en suite bathroom and into the
walk-in closet, carefully avoiding even a glance in his direction. Slipping out of
my robe, I pull on my ,« eatpanls and a camisole. 1 undo the braid, pick up a hair-
brush from the small vanity unit, and brush out my tangles.
"Anastasia," Christian calls and I hear his anxiety. "Are you okay?"
I ignore him. Am I okay? So, I am not okay. After what he's done to me, I
doubt I'll be able to wear a swimsuit. let alone one of my ridiculously expensive
bikinis, for the rest ur I nil i hi Idenly so infuriating.
How dare he? I'll give him are you okay. I seethe as fury spikes through me. I can
behave like an adolescent, too! Stepping back into the bedroom, I hurl the hair-
brash at him, turn, and leave though not before I see his .hocked expression and
his lightning reaction as he raises his arm to protect his head so that the brash
bounces ineffectiv ely off his forearm and onto the bed.
bow. I need some space to calm down. It's dark and the air is balmy. The warm
gainvillea from the 1 1 e I Mil through the calm co-
balt sea as I rest my elbows on the wooden railing, gazing at the distant shore
where liny lights w ink and tw inkle. I take a deep, healing breath and slowly begin
to calm. I'm aware of him behind me before 1 hear him.
"You're mad at me," he whispers.
"No shit, Sherlock!"
"How mad?"
"Scale of one to ten, I think I'm at fifty. Apt, huh?"
"That mad." He sounds surprised and impressed at once.
"Yes. Pushed to violence mad," I say through gritted teeth.
lie slays silent as i Uirn and scowl at him. watching mc with wide and wan
eyes. I know from his expression and because he's made no move to touch me
lhal he's out of his depth.
■"Christian, you hae lo slop unilaterally trying to bring me to heel. You made
your point on the beach. Very effectively, as 1 recall."
He shrugs minutely. "Well, you won't take your top off again," he murmurs
petulantly.
And litis justifies what he's done 10 mc'.' I glare at him. "I don't like you leav-
ing marks on me. Well, not this many, anyway. It's a hard limit!" I hiss at him.
"I don't like you taking your clothes off in public. Thai's a hard limit for
me," he growls.
"I think we've established that." ! hiss through my teeth. "Look at me!" I pull
down my camisole to reveal the top of my breasts. Christian gazes at me, his eyes
not leaving my lace ,. > i i n I' , not u ed to seeing
mc this mad. Can't he see what he's done? Can't he see how ridiculous he is? I
want to shout at him, but I refrain — I don't want to push him too far. Heaven
knows what he'd do. Eventually, he sighs and holds his palms up in a resigned,
conciliatory gesture.
"Okay," he says his voice placating. "I get it."
Hallelujah!
"Good!"
"You are such an adolescent sometimes." I scold him. mulishly, but the fight
has gone out of my voice, and he knows it. He steps closer and tentatively raises
his hand to tuck my hair behind my ear.
"I know." he acknow ledges softly, "i hav e a lot to learn."
Dr. Flynn's words come back to me . . . Emotionally, Christian is an adoles-
cent, Ana. He bypassed linn plww in his lift totally. Hi a channeled all his ener-
gies into succeeding in the business world, and he has beyond all expectations.
His emotional world has to play catch-up.
My heart thaws a little.
t III i i I
He doesn't flinch like he usee; to. out he stiffens. I le rests has hand over mine and
smiles his shy smile.
"I've just learned that you've a good arm and a good aim, Mrs. Grey. I would
never have figured that, bin then I constant!) underestimate ou. You always sur-
1 arch my eyebt it him Ii racti ith Ray. 1 in throw and shoot
straight. Mr. (ire;.', and >ou'd do well to remember that."
"I II endea r to do dial. . VI (ii i i , kin I lit pro t k
objects are nailed down and that you don't have access to a gun." He smirks.
I smirk back, narrowing my eyes. "I'm resourceful."
"That you are," he whispers and releases my hand to circle his arms around
mc. Pulling me into an embrace, he buries his now in lm hair. I wrap my arms
around him, holding him close, and feci the tension lea e his body as he nuzzles
"Am I forgiven?"
"Am I?"
I feci his smile. "Yes," he answers.
"Ditto."
We stand holding each oilier, no pique forgotten, lie does smell good, ad-
"1 lungr he says after a while. I have my eyes closed and my head against
"Yes. Famished. All the . . . er . . . acli ilv has gi en me an appetite. But I'm
not dressed for dinner." I'm sure my sweatpants and camisole would be frowned
"You look good i i ii K I i I ir the week. We can
dress how we like. Think of it as dress down Tuesday on the Cote D 'Azur. Any-
way, I thought we'd eat on deck."
"Yes, I'd like that."
I le kisses mc — an earnest forgive-me kiss — then we wander hand in hand to-
ward the bow where our gazpacho soup awaits.
The steward sen cs o > ind discreetk relires
"Why do you always braid my hair ! ask Christian oul of curiosily. We're
silling adjacent to each other at the table, my lower leg curled around his. He
pauses Is he s ll I pick up hi I 1 il
"I don't want your hair catching in anything," he says quietly and for a mo-
ment, he's lost in thought. "Habit, I think," he muses. Suddenly he frowns and his
eyes widen, his pupils dilating with alarm.
Holy shit' When he mnemhentl? Iks something painful, some early child-
hood memory, I guess. I don't want lo remind him of that. Leaning over, I put my
index finger over his lips.
"No, it doesn't matter. I don't need to know. 1 was just curious." I give him a
warm, reassuring smile. His look is wary, but after a moment he visibly relaxes,
his relief e idenl. I lean ov er lo kiss die corner of his mouth.
"I love you," I murmur, and he smiles his heart-achingly shy smile, and I
melt. "1 will always love you. Christian."
"And I you," he says softly.
"In spite of nn disobedience? ' i raise m> eyebrow.
"Because of your disobedience. Anastasia." lie grins.
1 crack my spoon through the burnt sugar crust of my dessert and shake my
head. Will I ever understand this man? 1 1mm litis crime bnilee is delicious.
Once the steward has cleared ot i I ristian i lies for the bottle of
rose and refills my glass. I check that we're alone and ask, "What's with the no
going to the bathroom thing?"
"You really want to know?" He half smiles, his eyes alight with a salacious
gleam.
&
nbsp; "Do I?" I gaze at him through m> lashes as I lake a sip of my wine.
"The fuller your bladder, the more intense your orgasm, Ana."
I blush. "Oh. I see." Holy cow, that explains a lot.
He grins, looking far loo knowing. \ ill I alw a; s be on the back foot with Mr.
Sexpertise?
"Yes. Well ..." 1 desperate!} hunt around for a change of subject. He takes
pity on me.
"What do you want to do for the rest of the evening?" He cocks his head to
one side and gives me his lopsided grin.
Whatever you want, Christian. Put your theory to the test again'.' I shrug.
"I know what I want to do," he murmurs. Grabbing his glass of wine, he rises
and holds his hand out to me. "Come."
i lake his hand and he leads nie inlo die main salon.
His iPod is in the i her doe] o die dn If lei il on and selects a
"Dance with me." He pulls me into his arms.
"If you insist."
"I insist, Mrs. Grey."
I 1 ees l .1 l> d) 1 in til hi < h sli n i i
at me and starts to nun e. >« coping me off my feel and taking me with him round
the salon.
A man with a voice like warm melted caramel croons. It's a song I know but
can't place. Christian dips me low, and I yelp in surprise and giggle. He smiles,
his eyes filled with humor. Then he scoops nie up and spins me under his arm.
"You dance so well," I say. "It's like I can dance."
He gives me a sphinxlike smile but says nothing, and I w ondcr if it's because
he's thinking of her . . . Mrs. Robinson, die woman who taught him how to
dance — and how to flick. She hasn't crossed my mind for a while. Christian has
not mentioned hot since his birthday, and as far as I'm aware, their business rela-
tionship is over. Reluctantly though. 1 have to admit she was some teacher.
He dips me low again and plants a swift kiss on my lips.
"I'd miss your love," I murmur, echoing the lyrics.
"I'd more than miss your love." he says and spins me once more. Then he
sings the words softly in m; ear making me swoon.
The track ends and Christian gazes down at nie. his eyes dark and luminous,
all humor gone, and km suddenly breathless.
"Come to bed w ilh me?" he w hispcrs and it's a heartfelt plea that tugs at my
( lirisiitm. you had me at I do — two and half weeks ago. But I know this is his
i ol i| ing m | n i in. hi ill is well between us alter our spat.
When I wake, the sun is shining through the portholes and the water relleels shim-
mcring patterns onto the cabin ceiling. Christian is nowhere to be seen. I stretch
out and smile. Hmm . . . I'll take a punishment luck followed b makeup sex any
day. I marvel what it is to go to bed with two different men — angry Christian and
sweet let-me-make-it-up-to-you-in-any-way-I-can Christian. It's tricky to decide
which of them I like the best.
I rise and head for the bathroom. Opening the door, I find Christian inside
shaving, naked except for a towel wrapped around his waist. I le turns and beams,
not fazed that I am interrupting him 1 hae diseoered that Christian will never
lock the door if he is the only person in the room — the reason why is sobering,
and not one I want to dwell on.
"Good morning. Mrs Circs." iie says, radiating his good mood.
"Good morning s oursclf." 1 gnu back as I w atch him shas c. 1 love watching