Chapter 97
Hmm... they must know what a kinky bastard he is. The thought preupies me.
He stoops to help me to my feet and leads me to the door, on the back of which hangs a grey waffle
robe. He patiently dresses me as if I''m a small child. I don''t have the strength to lift my arms. When I''m
covered and respectable, he leans down and kisses me gently, his mouth quirks up in a smile.
"Bed," he says.
Oh... no...
"For sleep," he adds reassuringly when he sees my expression.
Suddenly, he scoops me up and carries me curled against his chest to the room along the corridor
where earlier today Dr. Greene examined me. My head drops against his chest.
I am exhausted. I don''t remember ever being this tired. Pulling back the duvet, heys me down, and
even more surprisingly, climbs in beside me and holds me close.
"Sleep now, gorgeous girl," he whispers, and he kisses my hair.
And before I can make a facetiousment, I''m asleep.
Chapter Neen
Soft lips brush across my temple, leaving sweet tender kisses in their wake, and part of me wants to
turn and respond, but mostly I want to stay asleep. I moan and burrow into my pillow.
"Anastasia, wake up." Christian''s voice is soft, cajoling.
"No," I moan.
"We have to leave in half an hour for dinner at my parents." He''s amused.
I open my eyes reluctantly. It''s dusk outside. Christian is leaning over, gazing at me intently.
"Come on sleepy-head. Get up." He stoops down and kisses me again.
"I''ve bought you a drink. I''ll be downstairs. Don''t go back to sleep, or you''ll be in trouble," he threatens,
but his tone is mild. He kisses me briefly and exits, leaving me blinking sleep from my eyes in the cool,
stark room.
I''m refreshed but suddenly nervous. Holy cow, I am meeting his folks! He''s just worked me over with a
riding crop and tied me up using a cable tie which I sold him, for heaven''s sake - and I''m going to meet
his parents. It will be Kate''s first time meeting them too - at least she''ll be there for support. I roll my
shoulders. They''re stiff. His demands for a personal trainer don''t seem so oundish now, in fact,
they''re mandatory if I am to have any hope of keeping up with him.
I climb slowly out of bed and note that my dress is hanging outside the wardrobe and my bra is on the
chair. Where are my pantiesI check beneath the chair. Nothing. Then I remember - he squirreled them
away in the pocket of his jeans. I flush at the memory, after he, I can''t even bring myself to think about
it, he was so - barbarous. I frown. Why hasn''t he given me back my panties?
Belongs to ? n0velDrama.Org.
I steal into the bathroom, bewildered by myck of underwear. While drying myself after my enjoyable
but far too brief shower, I realize he''s done this on purpose. He wants me to be embarrassed and ask
for my panties back, and he''ll either say yes or no. My inner goddess grins at me. Hell... two can y
that particr game. Resolving there and then not to ask him for them and not give him that
satisfaction, I shall go meet his parents sans culottes. Anastasia Steele! My subconscious chides me,
but I don''t want to listen to her - I almost hug myself with glee because I know this will drive him crazy.
Back in the bedroom, I put on my bra, slip into my dress, and climb into my shoes. I remove the braid
and hastily brush out my hair, I then nce down at the drink he''s left.
It''s pale pink. What''s thisCranberry and sparkling water. Hmm... it tastes delicious and quenches my
thirst.
Dashing back into the bathroom, I check myself in the mirror: eyes bright, cheeks slightly flushed,
slightly smug look because of my panty n, and I head downstairs. Fifteen minutes. Not bad, Ana.
Christian is standing by the panoramic window, wearing the grey nnel pants that I love, the ones that
hang in that unbelievably sexy way off his hips, and of course, a white linen shirt. Doesn''t he have any
other colorsFrank Sinatra sings softly over the surround sound speakers.
Christian turns and smiles as I enter. He looks at me expectantly.
"Hi," I say softly, and my sphinx-like smile meets his.
"Hi," he says. "How are you feeling?" His eyes are alight with amusement.
"Good, thanks. You?"
"I feel mighty fine, Miss Steele."
He is so waiting for me to say something.
"Frank. I never figured you for a Sinatra fan."
He raises his eyebrows at me, his look spective.
"Eclectic taste, Miss Steele," he murmurs, and he paces toward me like a panther until he''s standing in
front of me, his gaze so intense it takes my breath away.
Frank starts crooning... an old song, one of Ray''s favorites. ''Witchcraft.'' Christian leisurely traces his
fingertips down my cheek, and I feel it all the way down there.
"Dance with me," he murmurs, his voice husky.
Taking the remote out of his pocket, he turns up the volume and holds his hand out to me, his gray
gaze full of promise and longing and humor. He is totally beguiling, and I''m bewitched. I ce my hand
in his. He grinszily down at me and pulls me into his embrace, his arm curling around my waist, and
he starts to sway.
I put my free hand on his shoulder and grin up at him, caught in his infectious, yful mood. And he
starts to move. Boy can he dance. We cover the floor, from the window to the kitchen and back again,
whirling and turning in time to the music. And he makes it so effortless for me to follow.
We glide around the dining table, over to the piano, and backwards and forwards in front of the ss
wall, Seattle twinkling outside, a dark and magical mural to our dance, and I can''t help my carefree
"There''s no nicer witch than you," he murmurs, then kisses me sweetly. "Well, that''s bought some color
to your cheeks, Miss Steele. Thank you for the dance. Shall we go and meet my parents?"
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