“Are you on your own?""No. There are six people staring at me right now wondering who the hell i'm talking to."shit..."Really?" I gasp, panicked."Yes. Really. My girlfriend," he announces away from the phone.holy cow! "They probably all thought you were gay, you know.”

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

“I want you, Anastasia,” he murmurs. “I love and I hate, and I love arguing with you. It’s very new. I need to know that we’re okay. It’s the only way I know how.” “My feelings for you haven’t changed,” I whisper. His proximity is overwhelming, exhilarating. The familiar pull is there, all my synapses goading me toward him, my inner goddess at her most libidinous. Staring at the patch of hair in the V of his shirt, I bite my lip, helpless, driven by desire—I want to taste him there. He’s so close, but he doesn’t touch me. His heat is warming my skin. “I’m not going to touch you until you say yes,” he says softly. “But right now, after a really shitty morning, I want to bury myself in you and just forget everything but us.”

“You're nothing but a sick child molester, and if were up to me, I'd toss you into the seventh circle of hell and walk away smiling. Now get out of my way- or do I have to make you?”

“You love strapping me in, don’t you?” “In any form,” he says, a wicked grin playing on his lips. “You are a pervert.” “I know.” He raises his eyebrows and his grin broadens. “My pervert,” I whisper. “Yes, yours.”

“Besides... anticipation is the key to seduction, and right now, I'm really into delayed gratification.”

“[Christian Grey] didn't want me as a girlfriend. I turn on to my side. Idly, I wonder if perhaps he's celibate.”