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I text Andrea with instructions to send the laptop to Ana’s home address, then return to the living room. Ana is sitting on the sofa, fidgeting with her fingers. She gives me a cautious look and rises. “Ready?” I ask. She nods. Taylor appears from his office. “Tomorrow, then,” I tell him. “Yes, sir. Which car are you taking, sir?” “The R8.” “Safe trip, Mr. Grey. Miss Steele,” Taylor says, as he opens the foyer doors for us. Ana fidgets beside me as we wait for the elevator, her teeth on her plump lower lip. It reminds me of her teeth on my cock. “What is it, Anastasia?” I ask, as I reach out and pluck her chin. “Stop biting your lip, or I will fuck you in the elevator, and I don’t care who gets in with us,” I growl. She’s shocked, I think—though why would she be after all we’ve done…My mood softens. “Christian, I have a problem,” she says. “Oh?” In the elevator I press the button for the garage. “W-Well,” she stutters, uncertain. Then she squares her shoulders. “I need to talk to Kate. I’ve so many questions about sex, and you’re too involved. If you want me to do all these things, how do I know—?” She stops, as if weighing her words. “I just don’t have any terms of reference.” Not this again. We’ve been over this. I don’t want her talking to anyone. She’s signed an NDA. But she’s asked, again. So it must be important to her. “Talk to her if you must. Make sure she doesn’t mention anything to Elliot.” “She wouldn’t do that, and I wouldn’t tell you anything she tells me about Elliot—if she were to tell me anything,” she insists. I remind her that I’m not interested in Elliot’s sex life but agree that she can talk about what we’ve done so far. Her roommate would have my balls if she knew my real intentions. “Okay,” Ana says, and gives me a bright smile. “The sooner I have your submission the better, and we can stop all this.” “Stop all what?” “You, defying me.” I kiss her quickly and her lips on mine immediately make me feel better. “Nice car,” she says, as we approach the R8 in the underground garage. “I know.” I flash her a quick grin, and I’m rewarded with another smile—before she rolls her eyes. I open the door for her, wondering if I should comment about the eye rolling. “So what sort of car is this?” she asks, when I’m behind the wheel. “It’s an Audi R8 Spyder. It’s a lovely day; we can take the top down. There’s a baseball cap in there. In fact there should be two.” I start the ignition and retract the roof, and the Boss fills the car. “Gotta love Bruce.” I grin at Ana and steer the R8 out of her safe place in the garage. Weaving in and out of the traffic on I-5, we head toward Portland. Ana is quiet, listening to the

E l james grey  

Fifty Shades of Grey

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