fifty-shades-of-grey

Twenty-five minutes, later he drops me outside the impressive façade that is the entranceto Escala.“In you go, ma’am,” he says, holding the door open for me. “I’ll bring up your luggageis.”H expression is soft, warm, avuncular even.Jeez… Uncle Taylor, what a thought.“Thank you for meeting me.”“It’s a pleasure, Miss Steele.” He smiles, and I head into the building. The doormannods and waves.As I ride up to the thirtieth floor, a thousand butterflies stretch their wings and fluttererratically in my stomach. Why am I so nervous? And I know it’s because I have no ideawhat kind of mood Christian’s going to be in when I arrive. My inner goddess is hopefulfor one type of mood, my subconscious, like me, is fraught with nerves.The elevator doors open, and I’m in the foyer. It is so strange not to be met by Taylor.Of course, he’s parking the car. In the great room, Christian is on his BlackBerry talkingquietly as he stares out of the glass doors at the early evening Seattle skyline. He’s wearinga gray suit with the jacket undone, and he’s running his hand through his hair, he’s. H agitated,tense even. Oh no – what’s wrong? Agitated or not, he’s still beyond beautiful. Howcan he look so… arresting? It’s such a pleasure to stand and drink in the sheer sight of him.“No trace… Okay… Yes.” He turns and sees me, and his whole demeanor changes.From tension to relief to something else: a look that calls directly to my inner goddess, alook of sensual carnality, gray eyes blazing.My mouth goes dry and desire blooms in my body… whoa.“Keep me informed,” he snaps and shuts off his phone as he strides purposefully towardme. I stand paralyzed as he closes the distance between us, devouring me with hiseyes. Holy shit… something’s amiss – the strain in his jaw, the anxiety around his eyes.He shrugs out of his jacket, undoes his dark tie, and slings them both on to the couch enroute to me. Then his arms are wrapped around me, and he’s pulling me to him, hard, fast,gripping my ponytail to tilt my head up, kissing me like his life depends on it. What thehell? He drags the hair tie painfully out of my hair, but I don’t care. There’s a desperate,primal quality to his kiss. He needs me, for whatever reason, at this point in time, and Ihave never felt so desired and coveted. It’s dark and sensual and alarming all at the sametime. I kiss him back with equal fervor, my fingers twisting and fisting in his hair. Ourtongues entwined, our passion and ardor erupting between us. He tastes divine, hot, sexy,and his scent – all body wash and Christian is so arousing. He drags his mouth away frommine, and he’s staring down at me, gripped by some unnamed emotion.“What’s wrong?” I breathe.“I’m so glad you’re back. Shower with me – now.”I can’t decide if it’s a request or a command.“Yes,” I whisper, and he grabs my hand, leading me out of the big room into his bedroomto his bathroom.Once there, he releases me and sets the water running in the far too spacious shower.Turning slowly, he gazes at me, eyes hooded.