E.L. James

“Abre sus ojos de nuevo, su expresión es desolada–sincera. –¿No ibas a escapar? –pregunta.–¡No!Cierra sus ojos de nuevo y todo su cuerpo se relaja. Cuando abre sus ojos, puedo ver su dolor y angustia.–Pensé… –Se detiene–. Este soy yo, Ana. Todo yo… y soy todo tuyo. ¿Qué tengo que hacer para que te des cuenta de eso? Hacerte ver que te quiero de cualquier forma en que te pueda obtener. Que te amo.–También te amo, Christian, y verte así… –Me ahogo y mis lágrimas comienzan de nuevo–. Pensé que te había roto.–¿Roto? ¿A mí? Oh no, Ana. Justo lo contrario. –Se estira y toma mi mano–. Eres mi vida, –susurra, y besa mis nudillos antes de presionar mi palma contra la suya.”

“—¿Te vas a ir? —susurra mientras sus ojos se amplían con miedo.No digo nada mientras intento reunir mis pensamientos.—No puedes —ruega.—Christian… yo… —Lucho por organizar mis pensamientos. ¿Qué estoy tratando de decir? Necesito tiempo, tiempo para procesar esto. Dame tiempo.—No. ¡No! —dice.—Yo…Él mira salvajemente alrededor de la habitación. ¿En busca de inspiración? ¿Intervención divina? No lo sé.—No te puedes ir. ¡Ana, te amo!—También te amo, Christian, es solo…—No… ¡no! —dice con desesperación y pone ambas manos sobre su cabeza.—Christian…—No —susurra, sus ojos amplios por el pánico, y de repente cae sobre sus rodillas frente a mí, la cabeza inclinada, sus manos con dedos largos extendidas sobre sus muslos. Toma una profunda respiración y no se mueve.¿Qué? —Christian, ¿qué estás haciendo?Continua con su mirada abajo, sin mirarme.—¡Christian! ¿Qué estás haciendo? —Mi voz es aguda. No se mueve—. ¡Christian, mírame! —ordeno con pánico.Su cabeza se levanta sin vacilar, y me observa impasiblemente con su fría mirada gris, está casi sereno… expectante.Mierda… Christian. El sumiso.”

“Anastasia, I’m not a hearts and flowers kind of man, I don’t do romance. My tastes are very singular. You should steer clear of me.” He closes his eyes as if in defeat. “There’s something about you, though,and I’m finding it impossible to stay away. But I think you’ve figured that out already.”

“In my groggy frame of mind, he looks yummy.”

“I tracked your cellphone, Anastasia.”

“From fifty shades "This will be guick and for me Not you Don`t come or I will Spank you”

“A veces me pregunto si hay algo mal en mí. Quizás he pasado demasiado tiempo en compañía de mis héroes literarios románticos y por lo tanto, mis ideales y expectativas son demasiado altos.”

“Even a pain in the ass needs someone to care about them”

“I'm drawn, Icarus to the sun. I've been burned already, and yet here I am again.”

“He's pressing me to his chest. I melt. Oh, this is where I want to beI rest my head against him, and he kisses my hair repeatedly. This is home. He smells of linen, fabric softener, body wash, and my favourite smell - Christian. For a moment, I allow myself the illusion that all will be well, and it soothes my ravaged soul”

“I have spoken to no one, not even my mother or Ray. I don't have the capacity for idle talk now. No, I want none of it. I have become my own island state. A ravaged, war-torn land where nothing grows and the horizons are bleak. Yes, that's me. I can interact impersonally at work, but that's it. If I talk to mum, I know I will break even further - and I have nothing left to break.”

“There's a joy in my helplessness, joy in my surrender to him, and to know that he can lose himself in me the way he wants to. I can do this. He takes me to these dark places, places I didn't know existed, and together we fill them with blinding light. Oh yes...blazing, blinding light." -Anastasia Steele”

“This is me, Ana. All of me...and I'm all yours. What do I have to do to make you realize that? To make you see that I want you any way I can get you. That I love you.”

“Let me love you," he says hoarsely."Yes," I answer, and turning, he hauls me into his arms, his lips seeking mine, beseeching me, worshipping me, cherishing me...loving me.”

“Sweet Jesus, you're wearing stockings."--Christian Grey”

“- "Why don't you like to be touched?" - "Because I'm fifty shades of fucked-up, Anastasia”

“You like the car. I like the car. I've fucked you in it... Perhaps I should fuck you on it.”

“I want to bite this lip,” he murmurs against my mouth, and carefully he tugs at it with his teeth.”

“He's like several different people in one body. Isn't that a symptom of schizophrenia? I must Google that.”

“You were really angry, if I remember correctly," I gasp."Anastasia, I'm always really angry.”

“Part of my role is to look after your needs. You said you wanted me to stay, so here I am. And yet I find you like this.”

“You have to kiss a lot of frogs before you find your prince”

“I'd like to bite that lip.”

“I think you can only be truly mad at someone you really love.”

“Why don't you like to be touched" Ana whispered, staring up into soft grey eyes."Because I'm fifty shades of fucked-up, Anastasia”

“Holy shit. What does that mean? Does he white-slave small children to some God-forsaken part of the planet?”

“I was waiting for you," he says softly, his eyes dark gray and luminous."That's... that's such a lovely thing to say.""It's true. I didn't know it at the time." He smiles his shy smile."I'm glad you waited.""You are worth waiting for, Mrs. Grey.”

“Oh no! My subconscious slams down her Complete Works of Charles Dickens, leaps up from her armchair, and puts her hands on her hips.”

“Why? Were you hoping for something more exotic?"My inner goddess pops her head above the parapet."Oh no. I've had enough exotic for one day."Mr inner goddess pouts at me.”

“But I'm a selfish man. I've wanted you since you fell into my office. You are exquisite, honest, warm, strong, witty, beguilingly innocent; the list is endless. I'm in awe of you. I want you, and the thought of anyone else having you is like a knife twisting in my dark soul.”

“This quote – Tess says it to her mother after Alec D’Urberville has had his wicked way with her.”“I know,” muses Kate. “What is he trying to say?”“I don’t know, and I don’t care. I can’t accept these from him. I’ll send them back with an equally baffling quote from some obscure part of the book.”“The bit where Angel Clare says fuck off?” Kate asks with a completely straight face.“Yes, that bit.”

“Perhaps Mr. Grey insists on all his employees being blonde. I’m wondering idly if that’s legal.”

“Stow your twitchy palm!”

“Anastasia Steele. I love you. I want to love, cherish, and protect you for the rest of my life. Be mine. Always, Share my life with me. Marry me.”

“I lay awake for hours and watched you sleep," he murmurs. "I might have loved you even then.”

“I'm going to say hi to my girl now”

“Don't leave me," he whispers. "Oh for crying out loud-no! I am not going to go!" I shout, and it's cathartic. There, I've said it. I am not leaving.”

“You're my lifeline," he whispers, and he kisses my knuckles before pressing my palm against his.”

“I need you Anastasia," he whispers.”

“You see, Ana men think that anything that comes out of a woman's mouth is a problem to be solved. Not some vague idea that we'd like to kick around and talk about for a while and then forget. Men prefer action.”

“Don't run, please-have a little faith in me and a little patience. Please.”

“grow up and smell the fucking coffee!”

“I hate fighting with you,” he whispers.“Well, stop being such an arse.”He chuckles and the captivating sound reverberates through his chest. He tightens his hold on me. “Arse?”“Ass.”“I prefer arse.”“You should. It suits you.”

“What is it about elevators?”

“Never trust a man who can dance.”

“He doesn’t look like a CEO—he looks like a bad boy from the wrong side of town. Holy cow, he’s so fucking sexy.”

“He makes me graceful, that's his skill. He makes me sexy, because that's what he is. He makes me feel loved, because in spite of his fifty shades, he has a wealth of love to give.”

“Christian, you are the state lottery, the cure for cancer, and the three wishes from Aladdin's lamp all rolled into one”

“i'm fifty shades of fucked up.”

“Good evening, Mrs. Grey," Christian says softly. He's standing by the piano, dressed in a tight black T-shirt, and jeans...those jeans- the ones he wore in the playroom. Oh my. They are over washed pale-blue denim, snug, ripped at the knee and hot. He saunters over to me, his feet bare, the top button of the jeans undone, his smoldering eyes never leaving mine. "Good to have you home. I've been waiting for you.”