Fifty Shades Darker Part 65

"Eat," he orders.

"You're not going to touch me, are you?"

"No." He shakes his head.

What? I gasp out loud.

"Just imagine how you'll feel when we're home," he whispers. "I can't wait to get you home."

"It will be your fault if I combust here on the seventy-sixth foor," I mutter through gritted teeth.

"Oh, Anastasia. We'd fnd a way to put the fre out," he says, grinning salaciously at me.

Fuming, I dig into my sea ba.s.s, and my inner G.o.ddess narrows her eyes in quiet, devi- ous contemplation. We can play this game, too. I learned the basics during our meal at the Heathman. I take a bite out of my sea ba.s.s. It is melt-in-the-mouth delicious. I close my eyes, savoring the taste. When I open them, I begin my seduction of Christian Grey, very slowly hitching my skirt up, exposing more of my thighs.

Christian pauses momentarily, a forkful of fsh suspended midair.

Touch me.

After a beat, he resumes eating. I take another bite of sea ba.s.s, ignoring him. Then, putting down my knife, I run my fngers up the inside of my lower thigh, lightly tapping my skin with my fngertips. It's distracting even to me, especially as I am craving his touch.

Christian pauses once more.

"I know what you're doing." His voice is low and husky.

"I know that you know, Mr. Grey," I reply softly. "That's the point." I pick up an as- paragus stalk, gaze sideways at him from beneath my lashes, then dip the asparagus into the hollandaise sauce, swirling the tip round and round.

"You're not turning the tables on me, Miss Steele." Smirking he reaches over and takes the spear from me-amazingly and annoyingly managing not to touch me again. No, this isn't right-this is not going according to plan. Gah!

"Open your mouth," he commands.

I am losing this battle of wills. I glance up at him again, and his eyes blaze bright gray.

Parting my lips a fraction I run my tongue across my lower lip. Christian smiles and his eyes darken further.

"Wider," he breathes, his lips parting so that I can see his tongue. I groan inwardly and bite my bottom lip, then do as he asks.

I hear his sharp intake of breath-he's not so immune. Good, I am fnally getting to him. My inner G.o.ddess fst-pumps the air above her chaise longue.Keeping my eyes locked on his, I take the spear in my mouth, and suck, gently . . .

delicately ... on the end. The hollandaise sauce is mouthwatering. I bite down, moaning quietly in appreciation.

Christian closes his eyes. Yes! When he opens them again, his pupils have dilated. The effect on me is immediate. I groan and reach out to touch his thigh. To my surprise, he uses his other hand to grab my wrist.

"Oh, no you don't, Miss Steele," he murmurs softly. Raising my hand to his mouth, he gently brushes my knuckles with his lips, and I squirm. Finally! More, please.

"Don't touch," he scolds me quietly, and places my hand back on my knee. It's so frus- trating-this brief unsatisfactory contact.

"You don't play fair." I pout.

"I know." He picks up his champagne gla.s.s to propose a toast, and I mirror his actions.

"Congratulations on your promotion, Miss Steele." We clink gla.s.ses and I blush.

"Yes, kind of unexpected," I mutter. He frowns as if some unpleasant thought has crossed his mind.

"Eat," he orders. "I am not taking you home until you've fnished your meal, and then we can really celebrate." His expression is so heated, so raw, so commanding. I am melting.

"I'm not hungry. Not for food."

He shakes his head, thoroughly enjoying himself, but narrows his eyes at me just the same.

"Eat, or I'll put you across my knee, right here, and we'll entertain the other diners."

His words make me squirm. He wouldn't dare! He and his twitchy palm. I press my mouth into a hard line and stare at him. Picking up an asparagus stalk, he dips the head into the hollandaise.

"Eat this," he murmurs, his voice low and seductive.

I willingly comply.

"You really don't eat enough. You've lost weight since I've known you." His tone is gentle.

I don't want to think about my weight; truth is, I like being this slim. I swallow the asparagus.

"I just want to go home and make love," I mutter disconsolately. Christian grins.

"So do I, and we will. Eat up."

Reluctantly, I turn back to my food and start to eat. Honestly, I've taken my panties off and everything. I feel like a child who has been denied candy. He is such a tease, a deli- cious, hot, naughty tease, and all mine.

He quizzes me about Ethan. As it turns out, Christian does business with Kate and Ethan's father. Hmm . . . it's small world. I'm relieved he doesn't mention Dr. Flynn or the house as I'm fnding it diffcult to concentrate on our conversation. I want to go home.

The carnal antic.i.p.ation is unfurling between us. He's so good at this. Making me wait.

Setting the scene. Between bites, he places his hand on his thigh, so close to mine, but still doesn't touch me just to tease me further.

b.a.s.t.a.r.d! Finally I fnish my food, and place my knife and fork on the plate.

"Good girl," he murmurs, and those two words hold so much promise.

I frown at him. "What now?" I ask, desire clawing at my belly. Oh, I want this man."Now? We leave. I believe you have certain expectations, Miss Steele. Which I intend to fulfll to the best of my ability."

Whoa!

"The best ... of your a ... bil ... ity?" I stutter. Holy s.h.i.+t.

He grins and stands.

"Don't we have to pay?" I ask, breathless.

He c.o.c.ks his head to one side. "I am a member here. They'll bill me. Come, Anastasia, after you." He steps aside, and I stand to leave, conscious that I am not wearing my panties.

He gazes at me darkly, like he's undressing me, and I glory in his carnal appraisal. It just makes me feel so s.e.xy-this beautiful man desires me. Will I always get a kick out of this? Deliberately stopping in front of him, I smooth my dress over my hips.

Christian whispers in my ear, "I can't wait to get you home." But he still doesn't touch me.

On the way out he murmurs something about the car to the maitre d', but I'm not listen- ing, my inner G.o.ddess is incandescent with antic.i.p.ation. Jeez, she could light up Seattle.

Waiting by the elevators, we are joined by two middle-aged couples. When the doors open, Christian takes my elbow and steers me to the back. I glance around, and we're sur- rounded by dark smoked-gla.s.s mirrors. As the other couples enter, one man in a rather unfattering brown suit greets Christian.

"Grey," he nods politely. Christian nods in return but is silent.

The couples stand in front of us, facing the elevator doors. They are obviously friends- the women chat loudly, excited and animated after their meal. I think they're all a little tipsy.

As the doors close, Christian briefy stoops down beside me to tie his shoelace. Odd, his shoelaces aren't undone. Discreetly he places his hand on my ankle, startling me, and as he stands his hand travels swiftly up my leg, skating deliciously over my skin-whoa- right up. I have to stife my gasp of surprise as his hand reaches my backside. Christian moves behind me.

Oh my. I gape at the people in front of us, staring at the backs of their heads. They have no idea what we're up to. Wrapping his free arm around my waist, Christian pulls me to him, holding me in place as his fngers explore. Holy f.u.c.king s.h.i.+t ... in here? The eleva- tor travels smoothly down, stopping at the ffty-third foor to let some more people on, but I am not paying attention. I am focused on every little move his fngers make. Circling around ... now moving forward, questing, as we shuffe back.

Again I stife a groan when his fngers fnd their goal.

"Always so ready, Miss Steele," he whispers as he slips a long fnger inside me. I squirm and gasp. How can he do this with all these people here?

"Keep still and quiet," he warns, murmuring in my ear.

I'm fushed, warm, wanting, trapped in an elevator with seven people, six of them oblivious to what's occurring in the corner. His fnger slides in and out of me, again and again. My breathing. Jeez, it's embarra.s.sing. I want to tell him to stop ... and continue ...

and stop. I sag against him, and he tightens his arm around me, his erection against my hip.We halt again at the forty-fourth foor. Oh ... how long is this torture going to con- tinue? In ... out ... in ... out ... Subtly I grind myself against his persistent fnger. After all this time of not touching me, he chooses now! Here! And it makes me feel so-wanton.

"Hush," he breathes, seemingly unaffected as yet two more people come aboard. The elevator is getting crowded. Christian moves us both farther back so that we're now pressed into the corner, holding me in place and torturing me further. He nuzzles my hair. I'm sure we look like a young couple in love, canoodling in the corner, if anyone could be bothered to turn round and see what we're doing ... And he eases a second fnger inside me.

f.u.c.k! I groan, and I'm thankful that the gaggle of people in front of us are still chatting away, totally oblivious.

Oh, Christian, what you do to me. I lean my head against his chest, closing my eyes and surrendering to his unrelenting fngers.

"Don't come," he whispers. "I want that later." He splays his hand out on my belly, pressing down slightly, as he continues his sweet persecution. The feeling is exquisite.

Finally the elevator reaches the frst foor. With a loud ping the doors open, and almost instantly the pa.s.sengers start exiting. Christian slowly slips his fngers out of me and kisses the back of my head. I glance round at him, and he smiles, then nods again at Mr. Badly- ftted-brown-suit who returns his nod of acknowledgment as he shuffes out of the elevator with his wife. I barely notice, concentrating instead on staying upright and trying to man- age my panting. Jeez, I feel aching and bereft. Christian releases me, leaving me to stand on my own two feet without leaning on him.

Turning, I gaze up at him. He looks cool and unruffed, his usual composed self.

Hmm ... This is so not fair.

"Ready?" he asks. His eyes gleam wickedly as he slips frst his index, then his middle fnger into his mouth and sucks on them. "Mighty fne, Miss Steele," he whispers. I nearly convulse on the spot.

"I can't believe you just did that," I murmur, and I'm practically coming apart at the seams.

"You'd be surprised what I can do, Miss Steele," he says. Reaching out, he tucks a lock of hair behind my ear, a slight smile betraying his amus.e.m.e.nt.

"I want to get you home, but maybe we'll only make it as far as the car." He grins down at me as he takes my hand and leads me out of the elevator.

What! s.e.x in the car? Can't we just do it here on the cool marble of the lobby foor ...

please?

"Come."

"Yes, I want to."

"Miss Steele!" he admonishes me with mock-amused horror.

"I've never had s.e.x in a car," I mumble. Christian halts and places those same fngers under my chin, tipping my head back and glaring down at me.

"I'm very pleased to hear that. I have to say I'd be very surprised, not to say mad, if you had."

I fush, blinking up at him. Of course, I've only had s.e.x with him. I frown at him.

"That's not what I meant."

"What did you mean?" His tone is unexpectedly harsh."Christian, it was just an expression."

"The famous expression, 'I've never had s.e.x in a car.' Yes, it just trips off the tongue."

Jeez ... what's his problem?

"Christian, I wasn't thinking. For heaven's sake, you've just ... um, done that to me in an elevator full of people. My wits are scattered."

He raises his eyebrows. "What did I do to you?" he challenges.

I scowl at him. He wants me to say it.

"You turned me on, big time. Now take me home and f.u.c.k me."

His mouth drops open then he laughs, surprised. Now he looks young and carefree. Oh, to hear him laugh. I love it because it's so rare.

"You're a born romantic, Miss Steele." He takes my hand, and we head out of the building to where the valet stands by my Saab.

"So you want s.e.x in a car," Christian murmurs as he switches on the ignition.

"Quite frankly, I would have been happy with the lobby foor."

"Trust me, Ana, so would I. But I don't fancy being arrested at this time of night, and I didn't want to f.u.c.k you in a restroom. Well, not today."

What! "You mean there was a possibility?"

"Oh yes."

"Let's go back."

He turns to gaze at me and laughs. His laughter is infectious; soon we're both laugh- ing-wonderful, cathartic, head-held-back laughter. Reaching over, he places his hand on my knee, caressing it gently with long skilled fngers. I stop laughing.