e place,” he says.
“Kate’s parents bought it for her.”
He nods distractedly, and his bold gray eyes come to
rest on mine, staring at me.
“Er . . . would you like a drink?” I mutter, flushing with
nerves.
“No, thank you, Anastasia.” His eyes darken.
Oh crap. Why am I so nervous?
“What would you like to do, Anastasia?” he asks softly
as he walks toward me, all feral and hot. “I know what I
want to do,” he adds in a low voice.
I back up until I bump against the concrete kitchen
island.
“I’m still mad at you.”
“I know.” He smiles a lopsided apologetic smile and I
melt . . . Well, maybe not so mad.
“Would you like something to eat?” I ask.
He nods slowly. “Yes. You,” he murmurs. Everything
south of my waistline clenches. I’m seduced by his voice
alone, but that look, that hungry I-want-you-now look—
oh my.
He’s standing in front of me, not quite touching, staring
down into my eyes and bathing me in the heat that’s
radiating off his body. I’m stiflingly hot, flustered, and my
legs are like jelly as dark desire courses through me. I
want him.
“Ha一ve you eaten today?” he murmurs.
“I had a sandwich at lunch,” I whisper. I don’t want to
talk food.
He narrows his eyes. “You need to eat.”
“I’m really not hungry right now . . . for food.”
“What are you hungry for, Miss Steele?”
“I think you know, Mr. Grey.”
He leans down, and again I think he’s going to kiss me,
but he doesn’t.
“Do you want me to kiss you, Anastasia?” he whispers
softly in my ear.
“Yes,” I breathe.
“Where?”
“Everywhere.”
“You’re going to ha一ve to be a bit more specific than
that. I told you I am not going to touch you until you beg
me and tell me what to do.”
My inner goddess is writhing on her chaise longue. I
am lost; he’s not playing fair.
“Please,” I whisper.
“Please what?”
“Touch me.”
“Where, baby?”
He is so tantalizingly close, his scent intoxicating. I
reach up, and immediately he steps back.
“No, no,” he chides, his eyes suddenly wide and
alarmed.
“What?” No . . . come back.
“No.” He shakes his head.
“No
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