But desire for Christian still dominates her every waking thought, and when he proposes a new arrangement, Anastasia cannot resist. They rekindle their searing sensual affair, and Anastasia learns more about the harrowing past of her damaged, driven, and demanding Fifty Shades.
You can comment, mail or contact us and tell the problem regarding your download. Thanks for being with us. Your email address will not be published. The song ends and tears spring to my eyes. I close my eyes and let the words wash over and through me.
My tears start to flow. Or is this an invitation? Will he answer my questions? Am I reading too much into this? I am probably reading too much into this. My subconscious nods at me, trying to hide her pity. I dash my tears away. I have to e-mail him to thank him. I leap off my bed to fetch the mean machine. Coldplay continues as I sit cross-legged on my bed. The Mac powers up and I log in. I love the iPad. I love the songs. I love the British Library App. I love you. I bought one for myself.
Now, if I were there, I would kiss away your tears. His response makes me smile, still so bossy, still so Christian. Will that change, too? I like him like this—commanding—as long as I can stand up to him without fear of punishment. From: Anastasia Steele Subject: Mr. I know something that could ease that. Dream on, Sir. Flynn know? Usually consensually and in a sexual context Flynn also enjoys my sense of humor. Incidentally—you will beg, trust me. And I look forward to it.
From: Anastasia Steele Subject: Goodnight, Sweet Dreams Date: June 10, To: Christian Grey Well, since you ask so nicely, and I like your delicious threat, I shall curl up with the iPad that you have so kindly given me and fall asleep browsing in the British Library, listening to the music that says it for you. Dream of you, Christian Grey? I change quickly into my pajamas, brush my teeth, and slip into bed.
Putting my ear buds in, I pull the flattened Charlie Tango balloon from underneath my pillow and hug it to me. I am brimming with joy, a stupid, widemouthed grin on my face. What a difference a day can make. How am I ever going to sleep? By the time I arrive at the office, I have the most ludicrous grin on my face. Jack glances up at me and does a double take.
You look How inappropriate! Good morning. I switch on the computer to start work, finishing my latte and eating a banana. I missed you last night. I have not had breakfast for several days, so it is a step forward. Now leave me alone—I am trying to work. I sit grinning at the screen like an idiot. But I need to read these chapters for Jack and write reports on all of them.
Placing the manuscripts on my desk, I begin. At lunchtime I head to the deli for a pastrami sandwich and listen to the playlist on my iPad. Grey has an eclectic taste in music. Oh, Fifty has a sense of humor, and I love him for it.
Will this stupid grin ever leave my face? The afternoon drags. I decide, in an unguarded moment, to e-mail Christian. From: Anastasia Steele Subject: Bored How are you? What are you doing? I am sure I could put them to better use. In fact I can think of a number of options I am doing the usual humdrum mergers and acquisitions. Your e-mails at SIP are monitored. Oh shit. I had no idea. How the hell does he know? Promptly at five thirty, Jack is at my desk.
He looks very casual. We usually like to go for a quick one at the bar across the street. Some significance for you? The rich seam of humor that I could mine from this is endless. I look forward to seeing you there, Mr. From: Anastasia Steele Subject: Hazards? From: Christian Grey Subject: Merely Sooners rather than laters, baby.
I check myself in the mirror. I have more color in my cheeks, and my eyes are shining. A little e-mail sparring with him will do that to a girl. I grin at the mirror and straighten my pale blue shirt—the one Taylor bought me. I am wearing my favorite jeans today, too. Most of the women in the office wear either jeans or floaty skirts.
I will need to invest in a floaty skirt or two. As I head out of the building, I hear my name called. She looks like a ghost —so pale and strangely blank. Who is she? What does she want? I just wanted to look at you.
Like me, she has dark hair that starkly contrasts with her fair skin. Her eyes are brown, like bourbon, but flat. Her beautiful face is pale, and etched with sorrow. On closer inspection, she looks odd, disheveled and uncared for. Her clothes are two sizes too big, including her designer trench coat. She laughs, a strange, discordant sound that only feeds my anxiety.
My anxiety turns to fear. Holy fuck. I watch as her slight frame disappears from view, lost amongst the workers pouring out of their various offices.
What was that about? Confused, I cross the street to the bar, trying to assimilate what has just happened, while my subconscious rears her ugly head and hisses at me—She has something to do with Christian.
Jack is at the bar with Elizabeth, Courtney the other commissioning editor, two guys from finance, and Claire from reception. She is wearing her trademark silver hooped earrings. Claire smiles sweetly at me. Everyone seems very friendly. Absently I wonder how Kate is My earlier encounter with strange Ghost Girl slips further from my mind. During my conversation with Claire, Elizabeth hands me another beer. Claire is very easy to talk to—she likes to talk—and before I know it, I am on my third beer, courtesy of one of the guys from finance.
When Elizabeth and Courtney leave, Jack joins Claire and me. Where is Christian? One of the finance guys engages Claire in conversation. My subconscious narrows her eyes. Yes, I think I made the right decision. It relaxes and ignites at the same time—a weird, internal duality—and I sense that strange pulsing electricity. Christian drapes his arm around my shoulder in a seemingly casual display of affection—but I know differently.
Softly he kisses my hair. He draws me to his side, and I glance up at him while he stares at Jack, his expression impassive. Turning his attention to me, he gives me a brief crooked smile followed by a swift kiss. He looks edible. Jack shuffles back uncomfortably. Why am I apologizing? I glance up at Jack who is mentally assessing the fine specimen of manhood in front of him. Why is this so uncomfortable? I glance at Claire, who is, of course staring, open-mouthed and with frankly carnal appreciation at Christian.
When will I stop caring about the effect he has on other women? We do? And a frisson of anticipation runs through my body. Taylor is at the wheel of the Audi waiting at the curb. Christian slides in beside me, clasps my hand, and gently kisses my knuckles.
It takes all my self-restraint not to leap on him right here, in the back seat of the car. Oh, the back seat of the car My inner goddess strokes her chin gently in quiet contemplation.
Do you want to beg at my place or yours? But by way of a change, we could go to my apartment. I frown. I go crimson as my mouth drops open, and I glance nervously at Taylor. My subconscious inhales sharply, shocked. You know I have no interest in him whatsoever. He just stands too close. And before I roll my eyes at him, the realization hits me with the force of a speeding freight truck. His smile slips in response to the panic in my voice.
Oh, this just is too much. I need you safe. What a time to have a brain-to-mouth filter malfunction. My subconscious glares at me. Christian opens his mouth then closes it again and scowls at me. I glare at him. The atmosphere in the car plunges from warm with sweet reunion to frigid with unspoken words and potential recriminations as we glower at each other.
I scramble out of the car quickly, not waiting for anyone to open the door. I sigh and turn to face him. I am so mad at him, my anger is palpable—a dark entity threatening to choke me. His eyes are so intense, threatening even, but sexy as hell.
I could get lost in their steely depths. Christian steps back in stunned surprise. Have I gone too far? Goddamn it! I am mad at you, do not make me laugh! This time his lips twitch with a repressed smile. I am grinning and laughing, too. How could I not be affected by the joy I see in his smile? Though I was never cheerleader—the bitter thought crosses my mind. He nuzzles my hair and inhales deeply. Flynn about this? Christian turns and waves to Taylor, and the Audi pulls away.
The place feels too small for him. I am still mad at him—his stalking knows no bounds, and it dawns on me that this is how he knew about the e-mail being monitored at SIP. He probably knows more about SIP than I do. The thought is unsavory. What can I do? Why does he have this need to keep me safe?
What can I do to reassure him? I gaze at his beautiful face as he paces the room like a caged predator, and my anger subsides. Seeing him here in my space when I thought we were over is heartwarming. More than heartwarming, I love him, and my heart swells with a nervous, heady elation. He glances around, assessing his surroundings.
Oh crap. Why am I so nervous? I back up until I bump against the concrete kitchen island. Well, maybe not so mad. He nods slowly. Everything south of my waistline clenches. He narrows his eyes. I told you I am not going to touch you until you beg me and tell me what to do. I reach up, and immediately he steps back. I step toward him, and he steps back, holding up his hands in defense, but smiling.
Is he deliberately changing the subject? My pill. His face falls at my expression. I want to go to bed with you. My inner goddess is beside herself. He smiles at me tenderly. This is a game, part of some evil plan. He looks simply adorable My inner goddess narrows her eyes and looks thoughtful.
We need to work on this. As Christian and I gaze at each other—me hot, bothered and yearning and him, relaxed and amusedat my expense—I realize I have no food in the apartment. Crap, he looks quite angry. Jones do all the shopping?
Jones about the same. We reach the checkout and silently stand in line. I wonder idly. I think. Christian remerges empty handed, grimacing with a look of disgust. Erotic, sparkling and suspenseful, Fifty Shades Darker is the irresistibly addictive second part of the Fifty Shades trilogy. Fifty Shades Darker Fifty Shades , 2. No tags were found Short-link Link Embed. Share from cover.