Fifty Shades Darker (book 5)

Chapter 70

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“Yes,” she says feverishly against my mouth.

I switch off the water and lead her out of the shower. I wrap her in her bathrobe and secure a towel

around my waist. Taking a smaller one, I begin to dry her hair.

This is what I love. Taking care of her.

And what’s more, for a change, she’s letting me.

She stands patiently while I squeeze the water from her hair and rub her head. When I look up

she’s watching me in the mirror above the sink. Our eyes meet and I’m lost in her loving look.

“Can I reciprocate?” she asks.

What does she have in mind?

I nod and Ana reaches for another towel. Standing on tiptoe, she wraps it around my head and

starts to rub. I lower my head, giving her easier access.

Mmm. This feels good.

She uses her nails, rubbing hard.

Oh, man.

I grin like a fool, feeling…cherished. When I raise my head to look at her she’s peeking at me

through the towel, and she grins, too. “It’s a long time since anyone did this to me. A very long

time,” I tell her. “In fact, I don’t think anyone’s ever dried my hair.”

“Surely Grace did? Dried your hair when you were young?”

I shake my head. “No. She respected my boundaries from day one, even though it was painful for

her. I was very self-sufficient as a child.”

Ana stills for a moment and I wonder what she’s thinking. “Well, I’m honored,” she says.

“That you are, Miss Steele. Or maybe it is I who am honored.”

“That goes without saying, Mr. Grey.”

She tosses the damp towel onto the vanity unit in front of us and reaches for a new one. As she

stands behind me our eyes meet once more in the large mirror.

“Can I try something?” she asks.

We’re doing this your way, baby.

I nod, giving her permission, and she runs the towel down my left arm, removing all the drops of

water that cling to my skin. She looks up, watching me intently, and leans forward, and kisses my

biceps.

My breathing stalls.

She dries my other arm and leaves a trail of feather-light kisses over my right biceps. Dodging

behind me so I can no longer see what she’s doing. She wipes my back, respecting the lipstick

lines.

“Whole back,” I offer, feeling brave, “with the towel.” I take a deep breath and shut my eyes.

Ana does as she’s told and briskly dries my back. When she finishes she gives me a swift kiss on

my shoulder.

I exhale. That wasn’t so bad.

She puts her arms around me and dries my belly.

“Hold this,” she says, and hands me a face towel. “Remember in Georgia? You made me touch

myself using your hands,” she explains. She wraps her arms around me and stares at me in the

mirror. With the towel draped over her head, she looks like a biblical character.

The Virgin.

She’s soft enough and sweet enough, but a virgin no more.

Grasping my hand that holds the face towel, she guides it across my chest, drying a spot. As soon

as the towel touches me, I freeze. My mind empties and I will my body to endure this touch. I stand

tense before her, unmoving. We’re doing this her way. I start to pant with a strange mixture of fear,

love, and fascination, and my eyes follow her fingers as she gently guides my hand, and wipes my

chest dry.

“I think you’re dry now,” she says, and drops her hand.

In the mirror’s reflection we fix our eyes on each other.

I want her. I need her. I tell her.

“I need you, too,” she says, her eyes darkening.

“Let me love you.”

“Yes,” she replies, and I scoop her up in my arms, my lips on hers, and carry her into the bedroom. I

lay her down on the bed, and with infinite care and tenderness I show her how much I honor her,

cherish her, and treasure her.

And love her.

I AM A NEW being. A new Christian Grey. I am in love with Anastasia Steele, and what’s more, she

loves me. Of course, the girl needs to have her head examined, but right now I’m grateful, spent,

and happy.

I lie beside her, imagining a world of possibility. Ana’s skin is soft and warm. I cannot stop touching

her while we gaze at each other in the calm after the storm.

“So, you can be gentle.” Her eyes are alight with amusement.

Only with you.

“Hmm. So it would seem, Miss Steele.”

She grins, showing perfect white teeth. “You weren’t particularly the first time we, um, did this.”

“No?” I take a strand of her hair and wind it around my index finger. “When I robbed you of your

virtue.”

“I don’t think you robbed me. I think my virtue was offered up pretty freely and willingly. I wanted

you, too, and if I remember correctly, I rather enjoyed myself.” Her smile is shy but warm.

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