Chapter 92


    We shake hands, and I know she''s one of those women who doesn''t tolerate fools dly. Like Kate. I


    like her immediately. She gives Christian a pointed stare, and after an awkward beat, he takes his cue.


    "I''ll be downstairs," he mutters, and he leaves what will be my bedroom.


    "Well Miss Steele. Mr. Grey is paying me a small fortune to attend to you. What can I do for you?"


    After a thorough examination and lengthy discussion, Dr. Greene and I decide on the mini pill. She


    writes me a pre-paid prescription and instructs me to pick them up tomorrow. I love her no-nonsense


    attitude - she has lectured me until she''s as blue as her dress about taking it at the same time every


    day. And I can tell she''s burning with curiosity about my so-called rtionship with Mr. Grey. I don''t give


    her any details. Somehow I don''t think she''d look so calm and collected if she''d seen his Red Room of


    Pain. I flush as we pass its closed door and head back downstairs to the art gallery that is Christian''s


    living room.


    Christian is reading, seated on his couch. A breathtaking aria is ying on the music system, swirling


    round him, cocooning him, filling the room with a sweet, soulful song.


    For a moment, he looks serene. He turns and nces at us when we enter and smiles warmly at me.


    "Are you done?" he asks as if he''s genuinely interested. He points the remote at a sleek white box


    beneath the firece that houses his iPod, and the exquisite melody fades but continues in the


    background. Standing, he strolls towards us.


    "Yes, Mr. Grey. Look after her; she''s a beautiful, bright young woman."


    Christian is taken aback - as am I. What an inappropriate thing for a doctor to say. Is she giving him


    some kind of not so subtle warningChristian recovers himself.


    "I fully intend to," he mutters, bemused.


    Gazing at him, I shrug, embarrassed.


    "I''ll send you my bill," she says crisply as she shakes his hand.


    "Good day, and good luck to you, Ana." She smiles, her eyes crinkling as she does when we shake


    hands.


    Taylor appears from nowhere to escort her through the double doors and out to the elevator. How does


    he do thatWhere does he lurk?


    "How was that?" Christian asks.


    "Fine, thank you. She said that I had to abstain from all sexual activity for the next four weeks."


    Christian''s mouth drops open in shock, and I cannot keep a straight face any longer and grin at him like


    an idiot.


    "Gotcha!"


    He narrows his eyes, and I immediately stopughing. In fact, he looks rather forbidding. Oh shit. My


    subconscious quails in the corner as all the blood drains from my face, and I imagine him putting me


    across his knee again.


    "Gotcha!" he says and smirks. He grabs me around my waist and pulls me up against him. "You are


    incorrigible, Miss Steele," he murmurs, staring down into my eyes as he weaves his fingers into my


    hair, holding me firmly in ce. He kisses me, hard, and I cling on to his muscr arms for support.


    "As much as I''d like to take you here, now, you need to eat and so do I. I don''t want you passing out on


    meter," he murmurs against my lips.


    "Is that all you want me for - my body?" I whisper.


    "That and your smart mouth," he breathes.


    He kisses me again passionately, and then abruptly releases me, taking my hand and leading me to


    the kitchen. I am reeling. One minute we''re joking and the next... I fan my heated face. He''s just sex on


    legs, and now I have to recover my equilibrium and eat something. The aria is still ying in the


    background.


    "What''s the music?"


    "Vi Lobos, an aria from Bachianas Brasileiras. Good, isn''t it?"


    "Yes," I murmur in total agreement.


    The breakfast bar isid for two; Christian takes a sd bowl from the fridge.


    "Chicken caesar sd okay with you?"


    Oh thank heavens, nothing too heavy.


    "Yes, fine, thank you."


    I watch as he moves gracefully through his kitchen. He''s so at ease with his body on one level, but then


    Text ? by N0ve/lDrama.Org.


    he doesn''t like to be touched... so maybe deep down he isn''t. No man is an ind, I muse - except


    perhaps Christian Grey.


    "What are you thinking?" he asks, pulling me from my reverie. I flush.


    "I was just watching the way you move."


    He raises an eyebrow, amused.


    "And?" he says dryly.


    I flush some more.


    "You''re very graceful."


    "Why thank you, Miss Steele," he murmurs. He sits down beside me, holding a bottle of wine.


    "Chablis?"


    "Please."


    "Help yourself to sd," he says, his voice soft.


    "Tell me - what method did you opt for?"


    I am momentarily thrown by his question, when I realize he''s talking about Dr. Greene''s visit."Mini pill."


    He frowns.


    "And will you remember to take it regrly, at the right time, every day?"


    Jeez... of course I will. How does he knowI blush at the thought, probably from one or more of the


    fifteen.


    "I''m sure you''ll remind me," I murmur dryly.


    He nces at me with amused condescension.


    "I''ll put an rm on my calendar." He smirks. "Eat."


    The chicken caesar is delicious. To my surprise, I''m famished, and for the first time since I''ve been with


    him, I finish my meal before he does. The wine is crisp, clean, and fruity.


    "Eager as ever, Miss Steele?" he smiles down at my empty te.


    I look at him from beneath myshes.


    "Yes," I whisper.


    His breath hitches. And as he stares down at me, I feel the atmosphere between us slowly shift,


    evolve... charge. His look goes from dark to smoldering, taking me with him.


    He stands, closing the distance between us, and tugs me off my bar stool into his arms.


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