Chapter 39
"Get into bed," he says sharply. "I''lle and lie down with you." His voice softens.
I drop my hand and frown. I don''t think I''ve ever touched his torso. He opens a chest of drawers and
pulls out a t-shirt and quickly slips it on.
"Bed," he orders again. I climb back onto the bed, trying not to think about the blood.
He mbers in beside me and pulls me into his embrace, wrapping his arms around me so that I''m
facing away from him. He kisses my hair gently, and he inhales deeply.
"Sleep, sweet Anastasia," he murmurs, and I close my eyes, but I can''t help feel a re-sidual mncholy
either from the music or his demeanor. Christian Grey has a sad side.
Chapter Nine
Light fills the room, coaxing me from deep sleep to wakefulness. I stretch out and open my eyes. It''s a
beautiful May morning, Seattle at my feet. Wow, what a view. Beside me, Christian Grey is fast asleep.
Wow, what a view. I''m surprised he''s still in bed. He''s facing me, and I have an unprecedented
opportunity to study him. His lovely face looks younger, rxed in sleep. His sculptured, pouty lips are
parted slightly, and his shiny, clean hair is a glorious mess. How could anyone look this good and still
be legalI remember his room upstairs... perhaps he''s not legal. I shake my head, so much to think
about. It''s tempting to reach out and touch him, but like a small child, he''s so lovely when he''s asleep. I
don''t have to worry about what I''m saying, what he''s saying, what ns he has, especially his ns for
me.
I could gaze at him all day, but I have needs - bathroom needs. Slipping out of bed, I find his white shirt
on the floor and shrug it on. I walk through a door thinking that it might be the bathroom, but I''m in a
vast walk-in closet as big as my bedroom. Lines and lines of expensive suits, shirts, shoes, and ties.
How can anyone need this many clothesI tut with disapproval. Actually, Kate''s wardrobe probably rivals
this. Kate! Oh no. I didn''t think about her all evening. I was supposed to text her. Crap. I''m going to be
in trouble. I wonder briefly how she''s getting on with Elliot.
Returning to the bedroom, Christian is still asleep. I try the other door. It''s the bathroom, and it''s bigger
than my bedroom. Why does one man need so much spaceTwo sinks, I notice with irony. Given he
doesn''t sleep with anyone, one of them can''t have been used.
I stare at myself in the gigantic mirror above the sinks. Do I look differentI feel different. I feel a little
sore, if I''m honest, and my muscles - jeez it''s like I''ve never done any exercise in my life. You don''t do
any exercise in your life, my subconscious has woken.
She''s staring at me with pursed lips, tapping her foot. So you''ve just slept with him, given him your
virginity, a man who doesn''t love you. In fact, he has very odd ideas about you, wants to make you
some sort of kinky sex ve.
ARE YOU CRAZY She''s shouting at me.
I wince as I look in the mirror. I am going to have to process all this. Honestly, fancy falling for a man
who''s beyond beautiful, richer than Croesus, and has a Red Room of Pain waiting for me. I shudder.
I''m bewildered and confused. My hair is its usual wayward self. Just-fucked hair doesn''t suit me. I try
and bring order to the chaos with my fingers but fail miserably and give up - maybe I''ll find hair ties in
my purse.
I''m starving. I head back out to the bedroom. Sleeping beauty is still sleeping, so I leave him and head
for the kitchen.
Oh no... Kate. I left my purse in Christian''s study. I fetch it and reach for my cell phone. Three texts.
*RU OK Ana*
*Where RU Ana*
*Damn it Ana*
I call Kate. When she doesn''t answer, I leave her a groveling message to tell her I am alive and have
not sumbed to Bluebeard, well not in the sense she would be worried about - or perhaps I have. Oh
this is so confusing. I have to try and categorize and analyze my feelings for Christian Grey. It''s an
impossible task. I shake my head in defeat. I need alone time, away from here to think.
I find two wee hair ties at the same time in my bag and quickly tie my hair in pigtails. Yes! The
more girly I look, perhaps the safer I''ll be from Bluebeard. I take my iPod out of the bag and plug my
headphones in. There''s nothing like music to cook by. I slip it into the breast pocket of Christian''s shirt,
turn it up loud, and start dancing.
Holy hell, I''m hungry.
I am daunted by his kitchen. It''s so sleek and modern and none of the cupboards have handles. It
takes me a few seconds to deduce that I have to push the cupboard doors to open them. Perhaps I
should cook Christian breakfast. He was eating an omelet the other day... um, yesterday at the
Heathman. Jeez, so much has happened since then. I check in the fridge, where there are plenty of
eggs, and decide I want pancakes and bacon. I set about making some batter, dancing my way round
the kitchen.
Being busy is good. It allows a bit of time to think but not too deeply. Music ring in my ears also
helps to stave off deep thought. I came here to spend the night in Christian Grey''s bed, and managed
it, even though he doesn''t let anyone in his bed. I smile, mission aplished. Big time. I grin. Big, big
time, and I''m distracted by the memory ofst night. His words, his body, his lovemaking... I close my
eyes as my body hums at the recollection, and my muscles contract deliciously deep in my belly. My
subconscious scowls at me... f**king - not lovemaking - she screams at me like a harpy . I ignore her,
but deep down I know she has a point. I shake my head to concentrate on the task at hand.
There is a state-of-the-art range. I think I have the hang of it. I need somewhere to keep the pancakes
warm, and I start on the bacon. Amy Studt is singing in my ear about misfits. This song used to mean
so much to me, that''s because I''m a misfit. I have never fitted in anywhere and now... I have an
indecent proposal to consider from King Misfit himself. Why is he this wayNature or NurtureIt''s so alien
to anything I know.
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